So, here we are in The Lexington with a stage decorated with tarot cards and naïve art angel dolls, and with Ann Liu Cannon who is no mean keyboard and guitar player, who writes literate and somewhat esoteric songs and sings with a distinctive and well trained voice that occasionally recalls Joni Mitchell. She’s strikingly dressed and her songs are accompanied as often as not with dramatic hand and arm gestures which reflect the fluidity of tai-chi: there’s a hint of Kate Bush about this stage presence.
Ann Liu Cannon has a new album – “Clever Rabbits” – and this is the album launch gig, which she has chosen to honour by playing the album all the way through, with a couple of extras towards the end. “Clever Rabbits” is eleven songs that address emotional changes – love affairs that don’t last, the effect of moving from the Marlborough Downs to London, thoughts about life and death.
Starting solo at keyboards for a sparse version of ‘Jealous God‘ in which Cannon pitches herself as the deity within a relationship, observing herself from a third person position – it’s passionate, and with the declaration that “my God is a jealous God“, carries more than a little of a threat should temptation ever be acted upon “Well I’ve been honest / I don’t trust her motives / And you have a wandering eye.”
Photo: J. Aird
‘Good Submarine‘ starts solo with Cannon’s band joining her on stage halfway through. It’s playful, with an off-kilter piano solo midway which then sends the song off in a different direction from piano ballad to folk-rocker. The title song is a playful description of keeping one’s options open and of feeling out of place as the country raised Cannon finds “moving round London is like a minefield / getting where you want to go / teaches you lessons you don’t want to learn.” There’s an “oh well” shrug of acceptance to lines like “downstairs Daisy’s making moves on my man – again” that doesn’t carry forward to the softly swaying passionate confusion of ‘Lost On You‘, which belies its soft jazzy mood and disappears completely in the toxic relationship described in ‘Tangle‘ where jealousy pirouettes around a simmering violent tension and an unwillingness to be fully emotionally dragged in: “I wake up in your web and I run for the open door / no-one had ever tangled me up like you before“.
There’s a slight lightening of mood for ‘No You Don’t‘, a song which Cannon explained she wrote when she was eighteen, having declared her love only to be told that she was wrong. To prove a point she stayed with him for a “really long time.” It’s a sad, slow, folky ballad that has that feel of the innocence of first, or at least young, love – and shows the soft side of Cannon’s vocals to great effect.
Another side to Cannon is the inspiration she draws from standing stones and monuments in the landscape: ‘Men An Tol‘ is a beautifully delicate folk song of loss, with Cannon’s vocal a spine-tingler. The album version of ‘Movement of Standing Stones‘ was recorded at West Kennet Long barrow and Avebury, and there’s something of a ‘Stonehenge‘ feel to the introductory bass lines for a song that carries a weight of unusual drum patterns, shaking bells and an examination of self-image and how well one can really be understood by another.
Cannon noted a few times during the gig that she was talking more than she would usually – but the background to the album was well worth the hearing. Early recordings had found their way to Ethan Johns and he’d agreed to produce the album – that was around four years ago, and she’d had to hold back the release due to a clause in the contract that required “Clever Rabbits” to be given that time to be offered to a major record label. The independent release now (with distribution via Proper Records) showed that no-one had had the wisdom to pick it up. This explanation perhaps also explains why the non-album, and more recent song, ‘Sinking Foxes‘ was so notably different from what had gone before – bouncy, literally jumping up and down bouncing, and rocking out to the declarations that “I don’t drink I don’t dance/ … / my youth passed me by on the dance floor.” The recorded version is even more pure pop, this live rendition keeps a foot in a more organic sound and is probably the better for it, but there’s maybe a nod towards the direction a follow up release might be taking.
The opener for the evening was Esme White, who was something more than a support act having a full band, including Ann Lui Cannon on additional vocals and extra percussion. Her songs were a lively mix of vibrato rich vocals and music that drew in a lot of country as well as folk and a bluesy rockabilly. Topics ranged across the spectrum of human experience touching on relationships, breakups, rampant consumerism, the unreliability of God and, naturally, death. The sound of a good time in other words.
‘Pearly Gate Crashers‘ was a humorous protest by the souls of the deceased at not being allowed into heaven, rightly berating the deity that they were no more than what he made them. ‘Ask the Dust‘ set carpe diem to a rockabilly rhythm with a call to enjoy the “boring blessings” as even they are better than the alternative offered by the finality of a dusty decay.
Lively, and a striking contrast in style to the later and more serious toned appearance of Ann Lui Cannon, Esme White propelled the evening in a lively direction as well as laying down a friendly “top that” challenge. Both artists worth – for different reasons – catching.
