Ethereal from the outset, Fire In Her Eyes create something haunting with little more than spectral keys and sweet harmonies. Sisters Natasha and Daniella “Topaz” Livingstone usually perform with a seven-piece band, but stripped back like this, the songs feel intimate without losing their depth.
They have just released their debut album, Look Into The Sky, after working on it for three years. “Written Within” is delicate and dreamlike, while the title track reveals a darker, earthier side to their sound, still illuminated by those entwined voices.
“Never”, one of the earliest songs they wrote, was inspired by the realisation that, wherever you go, you cannot run away from yourself. It is lovely but never straightforward, switching direction and meandering through subtle prog overtones as though following its own thoughts.
Fire In Her Eyes are already looking beyond the album, too. Two new songs appear tonight, neither included on Look Into The Sky, and one features double harmonies as warm as a summer breeze.
For the finale, Natasha puts down her guitar and moves to the piano for a beautiful cover of “Woodstock”. Written by Joni Mitchell and immortalised by Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young, it suits them perfectly. Fire In Her Eyes seem gloriously out of their time—and are all the more compelling for it.
No beard. Hair cut. And he’s got shoes on. It’s a brave new world.
“I’m gonna talk to you a lot, but I’ve got your money,” jokes Jay Buchanan early in his performance at The Glee Club. He’s as good as his word. This is as much a night of stories, memories and reflections as it is a conventional gig – and it’s all the better for it.
“High And Lonesome”, like the rest of Weapons Of Beauty, was recorded in an underground bunker on an old friend’s property in the Mojave Desert. Inspired by the sight of a pack of coyotes, it immediately establishes the intimacy of the evening. And what a voice, by the way. Removed from the power and volume of Rival Sons, its depth and character are somehow even more striking.
“True Black” deals with redemption and accountability as Buchanan searches for forgiveness for the things he’s done. “For all I might have cost you, I hope to make it right,” he sings, and the line hangs heavily in the room. “Sway Patience”, a love song for his wife, sounds as fragile as anything does tonight. There’s something of Jeff Buckley about him here.
He has to tune up before “Tumbleweeds” because he’s only brought one guitar, but the pause simply makes everything feel more personal. She loved him before the money; he needs her now that it’s gone. This is Buchanan’s story, and the emotion is palpable.
“Deep Swimming” brings more catharsis. Buchanan talks about burning all his old memories and how the release of it “smacks right into you”. For “The Great Divide”, he switches to a lap dulcimer and discusses the divisions within his country created by an increasingly toxic political culture. It’s a heavy subject, but the tenderness of the performance remains.
There is beauty everywhere, too – quite literally. After a long story, Buchanan explains that “Beauty Everywhere” effectively got him his new house, while also acknowledging the debt he owes to folk hero John Jacob Niles. Then comes a wonderful reworking of Black Sabbath’s “Changes” in an old-fashioned country style. His love for Ozzy – and for music itself – is obvious.
Not everything needs an explanation. There’s no story attached to “Caroline”, but none is required. Buchanan is simply a superb songwriter. Rival Sons’ “Shooting Stars” translates beautifully into this setting as well. It is noticeable that as the show moves towards its conclusion, Buchanan quickens the pace.
“Weapons Of Beauty” was the first song he wrote after a month of producing nothing, although the track that eventually gave the album its title almost didn’t make the record. “Feel Better”, meanwhile, comes from an unreleased album called Locust And Wild Honey. Its line, “At best, we are a rip-off of who we’d like to be,” seems to underpin the entire evening as Buchanan continues striving to understand himself.
He played with Rival Sons at the weekend. “I’m feeling it,” he admits.
A performance such as this will always divide opinion, just as Eric Church’s similarly stripped-back Birmingham show did last year. Like Church, though, Buchanan makes the format feel rare, tender and vulnerable.
“I just enjoy talking with my friends,” he explains.
“I’m this guy right now,” he says at one point.
It suits him.
