Lows and Highs with Sara Jane Morris

By Tamara Lee

Friday night, I went up to a local hotspot, Rime, where the food is a little mediocre and the wine is served just a touch too warm, but there’s often a good live show to tame any tempers ready to ignite.

This particular night did not disappoint.

After a so-so snack of mezes and mojitos, my friend and I settled into our seats only half-expecting to be fully entertained.

Tucked in between two acoustic guitar-playing brothers, Neill and Calum McColl, sons of the late great singer/songwriter/activist Ewan McColl, was Sara Jane Morris. Some of you oldsters (and youngsters dipping into the ‘80s music vault) will remember her as the female voice on the Communards’ big hit cover, Don’t Leave Me This Way.

These days, Morris doesn’t just sing, she emotes and acts and story-tells and jokes. She uses her body, her face, her hands to get the tale across (‘Imagine a song sung from a prison cell, by a woman who has just murdered her lover, after catching him in bed with her best friend, but he’s dressed like the scorned woman… It’s a London thing’).

Her range is something like four octaves, reaching lows that only her didgeridoo-playing husband David Coulter (Tom Waits, Marc Ribot, Kronos Quartet) might reach, and highs that rally, well, Jimmy Sommerville. That she didn’t get to play Janis Joplin in the biopic that was never released (the role was foolishly given to Renee Zelweiger) exemplifies the depth of the fickle nature of the entertainment industry. The execs-that-be obviously had not heard Sara Jane's loose and lovely rendition of Piece of my Heart.

We were treated to two solid acoustic sets of songs from her 25-year repertoire, opening with a Nick Cave cover, making their way through blues, ballads, folk, jazz and R&B, covers and originals, and ending with the Communards hit (unintentionally, because the much-jet-lagged trio caught the giggles and couldn’t make it through their earlier attempt). It was a catchy sort of bosa-nova version. For an encore, she sang Ewan McColl's The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face, and though I'm not fond of the song, the way Ms Morris sings it, I couldn't help but pay attention.

But it's a funny thing when the musicians who sang the disco hits return to play the Folk or Jazz Festival; going from black-and-white suspenders and pill-box hats to layers of paisley cotton. It reminds you where you've come from, and that's not always a good feeling.

So, although this intimate affair was a precursor to the full-band gigs she was meant to play at the Folk Festival later on the weekend, I think seeing her in such a small venue allowed us to appreciate more how beautifully she and her voice have aged.

And for those few hours, we could pretend we too had aged with grace.


(image courtesy of n16)