Anna Calvi has a lot to live up to. Heralded as ‘the biggest thing since Patti Smith’ on her arrival in 2011, the musician’s cavernous and romantic debut album earned her a Mercury Music Prize nomination, a reputation as a guitar virtuoso, and comparisons with PJ Harvey.

Calvi herself has since invoked a different lineage: Edith Piaf and Jimi Hendrix were formative influences; while last year’s follow up ‘One Breath’ found inspiration in composers John Adams and Steve Reich. This second full-length release brought intimate vocal lines and processed percussion to bear on already prodigious songwriting skills. The result was a less theatrical, more internalised sound, inviting parallels with latter day Scott Walker, and contemporaries such as St Vincent.

As such, tonight’s venue is an interesting choice. With its sculpted recessions and hard reflective stone, All Saints Church is a study in Gothic Revival. Many will find this in keeping with Calvi’s established aesthetic, though how any newfound subtleties will withstand such an unforgiving, if beautiful, interior is uncertain.

All doubts are soon put to rest. Opener ‘Suzanne & I’ swoons and wails with impressive clarity, drifting into sweetly harmonic vocals less typical of the Calvi of record. Instrumental ‘Rider To The Sea’ is no mere showcase of touch and technique, more a reflective lull before the frenetic offerings that follow. ‘Love Of My Life’ is aggressive but witty, its many false stops teasing, but never gratuitous.

A dark rendition of Springsteen’s ‘Fire’ finds Calvi alone on stage, steady of gaze and demonic of whisper. Her more than proficient backing return for a rousing ‘Desire’, but although a clear favourite, it’s with ‘Love Won’t Be Leaving’ that the show finds its peak. Beguiling enough in its existing structure, Calvi wrenches from the song arguably the most violent and hypnotic improvisations of the evening.

Calvi’s music thrives on dichotomies: feral yet sophisticated, intimate but expansive. The adoration she inspires seems borne of these very extremes. Drawn in, pushed back, drawn in once again, not only the crowd but the walls of the church appear to shrink and swell in sympathy with her movements.

For all this rapport, Calvi speaks little. When she does it’s with a restraint seemingly at odds with the force of her delivery. But such modesty merely suggests that, though cataclysmic in its energy, there lies beneath her performance a persistent generosity; one that lingers long after we’ve left the church for streets that are cold and still. The hail and gales of recent weeks may not be with us tonight, but the storm raised by Calvi will be far harder to shake off.

All Saints Church, Tuesday 11th February 2014
Words by Paul Ord