- Music
- 29 Jun 06
By the end of Damien Rice's set, the crowd is clapping wildly, roaring with appreciation. Fiona Apple, for her part, is the closest thing to Janis Joplin we have in 2006.
Damien Rice strolls on stage alone with just his acoustic guitar, as the sun begins to set over Los Angeles' historic Greek Theatre.
Dressed in a short-sleeved grey shirt and grey pants, Rice is greeted with a mixture of excitement and awe by the nearly half-full amphitheatre.
Solemnly, he plunges into the mournful 'Cannonball' from O, his vulnerability laid bare for all to see.
Backed by an exceptional collection of musicians (cellist Vyvienne Long is a standout), Rice employs the full range of his vocals: fragile and breathy, deeply resonant, an unabashed falsetto, and even a tuneful scream.
He also exploits all of the (musical) toys at his disposal - when he feels like rockin' out, he manipulates his guitar with effects pedals and uses a distortion mic.
By the end of Rice's set, when he began the opening strains of 'The Blower's Daughter' from the 2004 film Closer, the crowd is clapping wildly, roaring its appreciation.
Fiona Apple, for her part, is the closest thing to Janis Joplin we have in 2006. She sings the absolute heart out of every song, including the sonically bombastic 'Not About Love' and the delicate show tune-inspired 'Extraordinary Machine', both from the album of the same name. Sometimes her vocals are rich and soulful, but on other occasions she manipulates her voice in ways that sound downright painful.
As Apple stands in a low cut, floor length, spaghetti strapped gown, there was no mistaking her beauty, yet she showed no disinclination toward flailing her body about the stage in a most unladylike way.
Apple makes good records, but live she dazzles.