I have a new infatuation, and her name is Camille O’Sullivan.
Concerts can sometimes be pedestrian affairs but with O’Sullivan this isn’t just about fantastic music, it’s also about overwhelming spectacle.
The Irish singer has a world-class voice that flexes from gravelly and aggressive rock to the purest, tenderest tones and a stage presence that demands to be observed.
Each song is a piece of theatre in miniature: her skirt hitched up for a raucous rendition of Jacque Brel’s Port of Amsterdam; wearing masks for an intimidating romp through Tom Wait’s God’s Away on Business; still and pensive for a tear-jerking performance of Declan O’Rourke’s Galileo; perched intimately on the edge of the stage for Leonard Cohen’s Chelsea Hotel No 2; donning killer sparkling red heels and ending up on her back for Kirsty MacColl’s In These Shoes?
It’s clear that O’Sullivan loves to perform and she should: she is brilliant at it. Her personality – and love for spontaneous miaowing – is infectious, and it’s obvious why she has a loyal following for her live shows: after just one show I’m joining it.
There are a few tickets left for her final show on Wednesday: snap them up if you can, it’s a festival must.
