What a difference three weeks make. At the Glastonbury Festival, Polly Jean Harvey, the flesh and blood human being that fronts, inhabits some might argue, PJ Harvey, was in a fine mood. Beaming the smile of a truly happy individual, she exuded strength, raw passion, playfulness, fire, brimstone and tenderness, all without seeming to break a sweat. Tonight, she appears deflated, as if something's punched the emotion out of her between then and now.
Don't get the wrong idea. PJ Harvey at half steam is still a sight to behold. She throws herself into the start, moving like a predator, hips defiantly apart in short yellow dress, prowling the stage, screaming "don't marry uh huh her" and "you will remember me" during a startling "Uh Huh Her". At this point, all is well. "The Letter", "Who The F*ck?" and an excellent "Evol" - Polly doing an exaggerated shrug when she delivers the line "what do you know about love?" - are exhilarating. But not long after that she begins to run out of energy.
What's happened? Either something's upset her in the last fortnight or the lack of audience reaction is throwing her off kilter a little. Although there are plenty of devotees in attendance, this is a well-heeled, politely-mannered, Mercury Music Award album buying crowd (a guy behind LAUNCH talks his companion through a recent dinner party - apparently they had "roquefort trifle" for dessert, if that's possible). And they only really get excited when Polly reaches "Big Exit", four songs in.
This is the price we pay for having such an affecting artist whose emotions lay only a millimetre under her skin. When she's on form (in a good mood, inspired, exuberant, in love), she plugs those feeling directly into her songs and her performance. When she's troubled (and by something that a bout of simple noisy catharsis can't fix), she loses her focus a little, becomes uncertain. Before "You Come Through", she sits next to her drummer and leans over for a hug, looking like she really needs one.
In this context, it's the songs she can hide behind (the prettier likes of "Good Fortune" from "Stories From The City, Stories From The Sea") that feel more natural. Perhaps, you consider, that's why they were written in the first place. But tonight's set list is old school: feedback and blues, hormones and body parts. And it's hard not to think about whatever problems you might have when you're screaming "love you got a lot to answer for" over and over and over again.
Miraculously, the hug seems to work and she ends on a high. She cracks-up with laughter halfway through "Down By The Water", delivers another astonishing "Taut", and rips through "Dress" like she's cashing in on a grudge. That's the essence of being unpredictable, of course. As quickly as you can flip from confident to defeated, you can flip back to triumphant without a moment's warning. Long may she continue.
