Mesmerising desert magic - in Camden - from Mark Lanegan

The amount of adoration that fills the room is impressive and all encompassing. With the soaring energy of opening song “The Gravedigger’s Song” taken from 2012’s Blues Funeral, the tone of the evening is set. The drums provide a pounding energy that drives every along while deranged guitars melt over the top, and Lanegan’s dark tales take centre stage.

2014’s Phantom Radio contained some of Lanegan’s strongest solo material to date. With a heavier focus on electronic instrumentation, it was released to much critical acclaim across the board, but highlighted something else about Lanegan: you are either completely obsessed with or oblivious to his work. The man of Screaming Tress and Queens of the Stone Age fame has worked tirelessly for years, with more collaborations under his belt than you can actually get your head around. Tonight, an expectant crowd that stand back and remain nearly completely silent during songs, eager to take in as much of the experience as they possibly can.

Lanegan’s greatest weapon is undoubtedly his voice, which is completely whole and timeless, a kind of deep growl that is impossible to ignore, yet one that also strains and frays at the seams, becoming increasingly interesting as the night progresses. It’s as battered as it is shining. The power of his voice also adds to tonight’s experience of being transported and it feels as though we are no longer standing within the sweaty confines of Camden’s Electric Ballroom, and instead we have been swept away to dusty desert and the dark depths of Lanegan’s mind and soul. “Hit The City” and “Floor of the Ocean” provide highlights as they permeate through the thick air and bring to mind strong whiskey and smoky nights.

Lanegan comes across as a solitary soul and although his band surrounds him, he looks engulfed in his own world, almost lonely at the front of the stage. He speaks few words, and looks as though he is trying with all his might to make it appear that is not enjoying himself. Instead, he retains a nonchalant exterior that perfectly matches the riveting darkness that permeates throughout his songs. However, for all the desert magic that transcends through the set, it doesn’t quite retain its spark or do complete justice to the brilliance of Phantom Radio. On record, there’s something so timeless and mesmerising about the songs, but in the live setting it has moments where it drags. There’s little contrast between tunes, no low points as such but also few highs. It’s a set that remains at one tempo, a feature that becomes frustrating as it develops.

There is no doubt that Lanegan has something compelling about him with that thick American drawl that effortlessly encompasses the classic nonchalant rockstar stereotype, and he is evidently incredibly adored by the loyal fanbase that stand transfixed throughout the set. However, after the final blows of “I Am The Wolf” and “The Killing Season”, you leave just as sure as you ever were that Lanegan will remain something of an acquired taste.