Kathryn Williams, The Speakeasy, Voodoo Rooms, Edinburgh

Image: Paula Cuccurullo

In the dimly lit Speakeasy of Edinburgh’s Voodoo Rooms, the low stage is barely visible beneath a spaghetti junction of pedals and cables. Guitars line the rear wall of the tiny platform and a keyboard sits with chair precariously near the edge. The snug room is lined with already full seats and those in the audience of roughly 50 who didn’t bag one stand or sit on the floor in anticipation. The cosy venue is suited perfectly to the upcoming performance from singer/songwriter, Kathryn Williams, as she presents tracks from her new album, Hypoxia.

Before Williams take the stage her support act appear; a blonde, red-lipped singer clutching a glitter-edged guitar, and a slim, suited young man straddling a cello. They announce themselves almost shyly, leaving us unsure what the band name is, before launching into a breathtaking performance of Southern-style harmonising and Bluegrass, voices melding perfectly and the versatile cello singing like five different instruments. The songs are sweet and mournful, and we discover later they are The Jellyman’s Daughter. I thoroughly recommend you seek out one of their live performances.

Kathryn Williams is then onstage with backing musicians Andy Bruce – teetering on the piano chair and somehow squeezing in a guitar too - and Simon Edwards, on bass. Williams begins with a couple of Crown Electric tracks including ‘Underground’, penned as she sat on the floor of Kings Cross Station. Then she practically apologises that she’s going to play Hypoxia from start to finish, which nonetheless delights the crowd. Williams is enchanting throughout the evening, making quips about the dark songs as they depict the events of Sylvia Plath’s, The Bell Jar and its protagonist, Esther’s, descent into mental illness. Before playing opener, ‘Electric’, she describes how the lyrics portray Esther’s fascination with the Rosenburg trial then proceeds to croon wispily about the electric chair. She hesitates before explaining the next track, seeking audience approval (to a resounding, “Yes!”), although she often allows her evocative lyrics to speak for themselves.

To take Hypoxia from recording studio to live performance, Williams says, required reconstructing the tracks. In ‘Battleships’, the bass is used cleverly as the ticking clock and she prepares some songs on stage by recording layers of vocals, then using a loop pedal to control them while singing, with wonderfully atmospheric results. Perhaps due to this complexity, there is a brief glitch with sound control that unfortunately affects the tremendously acerbic ‘Tango With Marco’. Williams’ vocals don’t falter, though, and she manages to carry the track.

A barer rendition of ‘When Nothing Meant Less’ showcases the clarity of Williams’ voice as she sings about Esther’s relationship with Joan, a fellow hospital inmate who, like Esther, suffers suicidal thoughts. More upbeat, ‘The Mind Has Its Own Place’ resounds almost cheerily through the intimate setting before a bluesy rendition of ‘Part of Us’ with bittersweet – perhaps pertinent – lyrics; “The last time I felt lonely / the room was full”

Williams’ rendition of ‘Cuckoo’, penned with Ed Harcourt - “In his bath…It’s a good bath” - is one of the most haunting parts of the evening as she sings the disturbing viewpoint of a mother ashamed of her daughter’s illness. An echoing “cuckoo” call fills the dimly lit space and the hair on the back of my neck stands up: in interpreting The Bell Jar, Williams did not sugar-coat the pill.

Finishing Hypoxia, Williams rounds off her performance with a cover of Neil Young’s, ‘I Believe In You’ and her own ‘Heart Shaped Stone’, dipping behind an imaginary curtain (her hands) before reappearing (removing said hands) to complete an encore. Williams’ gentle, self-deprecating wit is so charming that in spite of the sinister element of her new album the audience leave smiling and upbeat, perhaps resolving to settle down soon with Plath’s book and Hypoxia as the perfect accompaniment.