There is no black and white to Patti Smith. An outspoken artist, poet, writer, actress and singer; she exudes intelligence, thought and creative edginess that popular female singers of today either hide or are frustratingly lacking in writes Beth Squires...
Smith’s many talents and opinions have earned her staying power that seems elusive to many female singers. Now 60 years old, she has brilliantly retained the fiery attitude and incredible talents that made her name in the seventies as I found out at Camden’s Roundhouse last week.
With no want or need for a separate support band, Patti Smith was the only name on the bill. The sold-out venue contained a vibrant mix of people of all ages, every one of them excitedly anticipating a two hour set performed by a living legend. Her backing band stepped out first; to a smattering of applause and cheers for her long-time guitarist Lenny Kaye. And then Smith herself confidently strode out on to the stage, her long straggly her over her face, dressed in her unfussy trademark skinny jeans, t-shirt and blazer, which she always manages to put together as the coolest outfit possible.
Her opening song was a storming performance of Gloria, during which I saw audience members glancing round at each other with grins on their faces as they sang and shouted along, all in disbelief that this punk goddess was performing for them. Her throaty, sexy voice was on fine form as she stomped and spat her way round the stage; every bit the true rock star.
The reason Smith is touring again is the recent release of her covers record Twelve. Some press have given her a lot of flak for not producing original material on this album, alternately saying that her record company made her do it, or she’s lost inspiration… Smith characteristically shot down these claims on stage. Speaking about recording the covers, she shrugged,
“…Truth is… I just fucking wanted to!”
The record itself is a little patchy in parts and with some songs the pay off is better than others, but that night every cover was a crystal clear hit with the audience. Her live performances bring levels that cannot be captured on record; a look here, an improvised poem there; bringing in elements that may seem clichéd or grating from lesser performers, but Smith pulls them off with a panache that only someone of her skill and experience can.
She wonderfully transformed Jimi Hendrix’s Are You Experienced? into a song that was soulfully dark and eerie; a slow, sultry version that sent chills up my spine. Later, Smith began a story about her visit to see the Rosetta Stone at the British Museum, before shifting gears into a rambling, psychedelic tale that she effortlessly segued into her cover of Jefferson Airplane’s White Rabbit. Smells Like Teen Spirit was another highlight; Smith slowed it down into a despondent, lost anthem, which superbly reflected the themes of disaffected youth that permeate the song. As the song came to a close she improvised a spoken, poetic and angry tribute to Kurt Cobain, the lost boy of grunge, which moved all that were present.
Alongside the covers, Smith performed a few of her own stunning songs, including Piss Factory, Free Money and Because the Night, to rapturous applause and cheers. She began the encore with a cover of Tears For Fears’ Everybody Wants to Rule the World which was surprising and probably the closest to a low point of the night, but then ended with the magnificent Rock ‘N’ Roll Nigger, jabbing at her guitar violently as she shouted the lyrics and threw herself around the stage during the outcast anthem.
It was a staggeringly powerful evening; Smith proved she is ageless, with the stamina to rock out with the best of them, her voice was as strong and her lyrics as poignant as ever, and her inter-song banter was both funny and thought inducing. She told anecdotes, motivated us on self-empowerment and discouraged the audience from taking pills to cure all ills… At 60, Smith proved to London that she is still the High Priestess of Punk and there’s no way she’s passing on the title for a long, long time.
