With a voice of crystal clear melancholia, slicing through the still air of the auditorium like so much cut glass, PJ Harvey is

A completely captivating statue, but a statue nonetheless

undoubtedly one of the most talented singers in the UK. The sheer clarity and haunting tone is unique in its ability to send a shiver up your spine and raise the hairs on the back of your neck, captivating the audience in spellbound wonder. It is a voice that only truly reveals itself in a live performance; a recording just can’t capture the delicate and brittle quality of it. Just to sit and listen to PJ Harvey sing even while blind folded is more than enough reason to see her in concert.

However, I did not have a blind fold, and I did expect to see something of a performance. Sadly, I may as well have been staring at a photograph. Polly Jean Harvey is renowned for her aloof and theatrical stage performances. Wearing a black draped dress held together by a loose leather corset, complete with a black feathered head dress, the audience was prepared for an outstanding performance from this unusual and strange woman. As she fixed her rose printed autoharp to her chest and stepped into the pool of white light to sing, she was the picture of baroque macabre. And then, quite suddenly, and surprisingly I felt, all the life seemed to go out of her. She stood, and she played, and she sang her beautiful songs of death and war that could have moved the audience to tears, but she just wasn’t present as a performer. She hardly moved throughout the entire set, and as captivating as she is, I did find my eyes wandering to the one lively member of her band: drummer Jen-Marc Butty. Further, each song was divided not by small talk, or a visible change, but by the lights going out, plunging the stage in darkness only to be raised once more as the first chords were struck. It was almost as if the concert was in fact a recitation, performed by exquisite clockwork figures that needed that minute long pause in darkness to be wound up once more.

Perhaps I am merely too familiar with the wants of a Glasgow crowd: we expect some banter, some life. We heckle, and we aren’t afraid to speak our mind. The devoted in the crowd yelled out their love and appreciation, and were rewarded with silence and stillness. At moments it appeared that PJ was slowly loosening up, breaking down some of the invisible wall shielding her from the crowd, but the momentary twitching dances would never go beyond the final thirty seconds of a song, ending as they all did: in total darkness.

PJ Harvey gave a perfect and exquisite recitation of her latest album, Let England Shake; she did not give a performance of it. Her conduct on stage irritated me only because I know that this concert had the potential to be one of the most outstanding and memorable concerts I have ever had the privilege to witness. And yet it didn’t quite make it. Excellent, yes. Outstanding, not especially. I might seem nit-picking, but it really does raise one concert above another if the artist appears to be enjoying themselves as they play. And Pj should have been enjoying herself: Let England Shake is a masterpiece, as proven by her recent acceptance of a second Mercury Prize, making her the first artist ever to be awarded the prestigious accolade twice. The first was in 2001 for her seminal indie rock album Stories from the City, Stories from the Sea. It too was a major departure from her previous post-punk style work, as Let England Shake is also a serious break from the blues rock style she has become famous for. Dealing in the horror of war, and the passions which drive men to murder, Let England Shake is a terrific expression of grief for those who have fought, forcing the listener to sit up and pay attention to the mass murder being sanctioned in the name of  victory.

Musically, this concert was one of the most enjoyable to listen to I have been to in a long time. The sound was pitch perfect, and I was blown away by the strength and supple nature of PJ Harvey’s voice. Was it one of the best I have ever been to? Sadly, no, though I really wish it had been.