Lauren Pritchard – Jericho Tavern, Oxford 07/03/10

It’s never a good sign when you hear someone that might be the bar manager utter the words “I didn’t know there was a gig tonight, that’s why the heating’s not on”. A cunning plan to cut the pub’s carbon footprint has led inevitably to a venue that resembles the climate of an ice box in an igloo trapped inside a glacier. In other words, it’s cold. It’s so cold that the entire gig is enjoyed whilst wearing a hat, a coat and thick jumper.

Nikki Loy is first to attempt to warm the cockles of the crowd (who clearly knew there was a gig, but sadly didn’t have access to the thermostat). Sadly she’s forgotten to bring any songs with her. That is not to say that there she isn’t talented – far from it. Diminutive guitar patterns provide a skeletal framework for her to sing over, and they are bludgeoned into relative silence by her voice. Loy can sing with a force that is quite frightening. Despite this being an acoustic set, earplugs are quickly jammed into lugholes to prevent dizziness and certain deafness. She impeccably hits every note and fills her performance with clever nuances. Sadly her songs meander somewhat, almost into jazz territory at times, and although she’s clearly a talented singer, she doesn’t have the songs just now.

We Thieves and their audience spend most of Loy’s set discussing important things – like themselves – and so it is instantly difficult to warm to them when they start their set. They make it even harder by being resolutely devoid of original ideas. Early on we think of renaming them “We thieve ideas from Morrissey’s dustbin” and then they drop some violins into their folk infused set that remind us of Led Zeppelin’s Battle of Evermore (only out of tune). Without anything in the way of a defining feature, we eagerly await Lauren Pritchard.

By the time Pritchard takes to the stage, the audience has visibly thinned out, but this doesn’t seem to affect her whatsoever. Instantly likeable thanks to her bubbly personality, she draws the crowd in with her well crafted songs. Vocally she’s immense, with a thunderously powerful voice that is at odds with her winsome, delicate instrumentation. She brings to mind Joss Stone at times, albeit a Joss Stone with a natural American accent and some real soul. Her guitarist Paul Sayer is the unsung hero of the night. It would be easy to miss the gentle runs and flourishes but they add vibrant, incidental colouring to what would otherwise be fairly straightforward songs.

The brooding nature of ‘When Night Kills the Day’ is arresting, kicking off like a heartfelt Joni Mitchell ballad before it soars towards a Joplin inspired chorus. It’s rather glorious. Wasted in Jackson’s rolling lyrics tumble over each other like a reworked Subterranean Homesick Blues as Lauren indulges the cuter side of her delivery and wraps the whole thing up in a dreamy fug.

It’s a shame more people aren’t here to see her, but with a voice this good, it’s surely a matter time before she sells venues like this out.