It's all about as alternative as a nice Sunday roast.
It’s all a bit [I]Watership Down[/I]. [a]Kathryn Williams[/a], Mercury Music Prize nominee, and emotional cottage industry walks on to the stage and is immediately caught – rabbit-like – in the headlights of the London music business. The question is, will she, or will she not, get squashed?
Things don’t look too promising at first. Williams informs us that today she got recognised on the tube, and that she’s not that comfortable with her new found fame. Or the London Underground system. “It makes me go all shaky,” she complains. And then apologises for being “shit” at telling stories.
But when she finally starts to strum her guitar – accompanied by the icy blast of a cellist – it soon emerges that Williams is brilliant at telling musical stories. She knows the power of moments; simple emotions, glances and sensations that can stay with you forever. She captures these minute epiphanies and bottles them up in sparse, strolling songs.
It’s true that this is not the music of the big city, and if you suspect that Williams leaves the hard stuff alone, and has a meaningful and supportive relationship with her family you’d probably be right (her dad runs her record label). It’s all about as alternative as a nice Sunday roast. But unlike many of her contemparies, she thankfully leaves the psychodramas bubbling under rather than making them her raison d’jtre.