The art of listening

I rarely go out in the evenings, but when I saw that Kate Rusby was coming to Sidmouth Folk Festival I could not resist the temptation.  Expensive, but as S had given me £50 for my birthday I thought, "Yeah, go for it!"  

Kate sang a number of songs from her excellent new album to a full house and several of my all-time favourites from her considerable catalogue.

This one gets me every time.

Unfortunately, I was ever so slightly disappointed.  I had expected to enjoy a live performance a lot more than listening to her studio recordings, but - dare I say it - I think she sounds better on CD.

In fact I came home wondering what had gone wrong – I know it was a cold night and she may have been feeling a little under par.  However, when I listened again, this morning, nothing was so very different. A lot of the perceived 'faults' I found in last night's performance can be heard in the recordings (if you listen out for them).  I’d just not heard her properly: her timbre really is that husky, and she does take audible intakes of breath.  Last night I was fondly imagining that she was too close to the microphone (!)  

Don’t get me wrong: I love my recordings of her - they still move me - and I am glad I saw her, particularly as T said of her band, "They weren't just playing; they were performing."  Trust a musician to say that.  

Hmmmmm, I can now hear what he means when he says the arrangements on her CDs aren’t that interesting.  (He'd never heard of Kate Rusby before last night).  But what do I care?  She sings like a nightingale.

Ooooh, the irony: T, who went with me, to keep me company, got more out the evening than I did.  Come the end he gave the band a standing ovation!