Live Review: Laura Mvula, Marcus Whale

It was fitting that for Laura Mvula's Australian debut that her stage was seasoned by Sydney's very own Marcus Whale. Whale's opening hit all the notes that have afforded him his well-deserved notoriety: full body performance, clear emotional precision and charm. He was also, as always, remarkably generous. When Mvula took the stage, Whale joined the crowd at her feet and soaked up her performance with full conviction. But who could blame him? She's excellent. 

Centre stage with her keytar across her chest, Laura Mvula's demeanour was chatty, warm and almost as rich as her music. She seemed to sing with her whole body as she moved with uncanny elasticity across both musical and emotional registers. Overcome in performance was chillingly focused and sparse; she rightfully thanked her bassist afterwards - much of the song was played by the two of them. Let Me Fall was pure, infectious joy and for Bread she managed to get the audience so entranced that she had to actually stop us from singing the song's bridge (she stopped us after at least two minutes of uninterrupted chanting). Father Father got two renditions - because apparently she screwed up the first - and no one batted an eyelid. Her audience watched, mesmerised and slack-jawed. Sing To The Moon felt like a series of revelations. 

Her band, of course, had something to do with this. Her drummer's clarity in particular made her incredible control all the richer and her lithe staccato even punchier.

Between epiphanies, she was charming and generous, cracking jokes and poking fun at herself. "There was a time when going from Birmingham to Glasgow was far," explained the Birmingham-bred Mvula. "Now this... is far."