The Bush Hall, in West London’s Shepherd’s Bush, is an unlikely spot for sensitive beauty, situated as it is on the Uxbridge Road, home to as diverse a collection of sights and smells as you’re likely to find in this patchwork capital.
Tonight, however, it is acting as a temporary home to Shearwater, creators of rather learned folk rock that ranges from the poetically ethereal to the scarily loud and fragmented.
Formed by Jonathan Meiburg and Will Sheff to showcase songs deemed too quiet for their main act, Okkervil River, Shearwater have become a bit of a cult favourite among fans, so much so that Meiburg has now left his old band to concentrate on the side project full time.
It’s a bold move, but one that seems to be paying off, and the crowd in this intimate venue are loyal, dishing out a very warm welcome and shouting out requests from the word go.
They’re also very well behaved though, and as Meiburg begins with On the Death Of The Waters (the opener from latest album Rook), you could hear a pin drop between his milky Nick Drake vocals and tinkling keys.
That is until the song explodes with brass, bass and crashing drums – a sudden quiet to loud trademark move from a group who rarely deliver the expected.
Whether they are skipping down an Anthony And The Johnsons‘ style route on the heart-stopping I Was Cloud, or coming across all Radiohead with Snow Leopard, they are never far from building up their wonderfully controlled sound to a brain bashing wig out.
These moments are the true highlights, and with Meiburg’s eyes almost manic as his versatile voice soars in any direction, the only reaction is to stand and stare, amazed.
Meiburg isn’t the only draw though, and the band are superb throughout- particularly drummer Thor Harris who at one point manages to play a clarinet with one hand and a glockenspiel with the other. The fact that he appears to have arrived dressed as a member of Spinal Tap also helps, and with his orange trousers, plaited hair and furry bodywarmer, his every move is welcomed by the audience.
There’s precious little engagement by the band, but it shouldn’t be mistaken for a lack of confidence. Century Eyes, a short angry blast of madness, is briefly dedicated to John McCain, and we are treated to a cover of Talk Talk‘s The Rainbow before the whole group decamp to the grand piano right at the back of the room for an Arcade Fire style impromptu encore.
Again, the crowd is rapt as the evening finishes on a quieter note and the band pick their way back towards the stage door holding their instruments before everyone else steps back out onto Uxbridge Road, dazed.
Shearwater proved to be beautifully eccentric and a thing of wonder, but not too scholarly to rock out. And with those flashes of bonkers brilliance, you just know they’re not above stumbling outside to wolf down a kebab on the way home too.