“It’s not often you get to see one of your favourite artists backed by an orchestra,” opener Carl North says from the stage tonight. “And for free, too.”
With this one utterance Carl makes my own review redundant, because this is the appeal of the night in a nutshell. Toria Wooff has become one of my favourite artists in the half-year since I first came across her music and heard her play in a packed basement in Manchester, delivering an evocative Gothic folk sound with sophisticated songwriting and powerfully clear vocals. And tonight she’s not only backed by four members of the Manchester Camerata as a string quartet, but it’s free entry too – part of the Camerata’s charity-driven celebration of music across the ten boroughs of Greater Manchester.
Tonight is the third time I’ve seen Toria live in the six months since I first discovered her music, with a fourth soon to come as she embarks upon an autumn tour in the next couple of weeks. That fourth will make her joint-top of the list of artists I’ve seen live (with Kassi Valazza). Having written reviews of her Manchesterand Liverpool gigs in so short a span of time, is there anything new I could say a third time around? Would it be best, perhaps, to just leave the night with Carl’s succinct summary?
In one sense, no – I can’t say anything new. Toria is as good as ever – strong in voice, picking out melodies on her acoustic guitar, and after the show devoting her time to those who wish to meet and speak with her. But in another sense, the presence of the Manchester Camerata on this unique night gives me a new perspective, an opportunity to reflect on the talent and achievements of this artist.
Not all songs would stand up to the scrutiny of a classical rearrangement, but Toria’s do, which speaks to the quality of her songwriting. The bones are strong, and in the capable hands of Polly Virr, one of Toria’s regular collaborators, who has reworked their arrangement for the camerata tonight, they remain as impressive as ever. Toria’s self-titled debut album is played in full tonight, and in the same sequential order. The balance, the flow of the music, is excellent, giving us an opportunity to doff our cap to James Wyatt, Toria’s partner who produced that exquisite album at Sloe Flower Studios.
One thing that’s clear is that Toria has chosen her collaborators well, not only Polly and James but Carl North, her friend who opens the night with his own acoustic guitar and deeply soulful voice. His original songs, including ‘Hard Times’, ‘Thorn in Your Side’ and ‘Pearl’, are able to stand tall alongside his covers of Hank Williams, Jerry Reed and, as the last song in his set, the Bob Dylan song ‘Corrina, Corrina’.
And, of course, there are the members of the Camerata itself, one of whom (Katie Foster) played on Toria’s album too. Tonight’s string quartet consists of Sarah Whittingham, Katie Foster, Alex Mitchell and Graham Morris (the latter on cello) and, with Polly Virr watching on from the audience, they bring an orchestral magnificence to Toria’s songs, whether that’s the pensive roaming of ‘Lefty’s Motel Room’, the thoughtful rumination in ‘Sweet William’, the dreaminess of ‘Mountains’ or the soaring catharsis of ‘See Things Through’. They bring out the haunting depth of ‘The Waltz of Winter Hey’ and conjure a sound like rustling autumn leaves on ‘Estuaries’. Falling glissandos from the cello add an element of danger to ‘The Flood’, the swelling music drawing deep smiles from the quartet. There are few better harmonies of sight and sound than an orchestra swaying as they move across their strings.
The smiles are even warmer on their faces at the end of the show, as Toria leaves the stage and they remain seated, looking in her direction as the audience cheers for an encore.
“I genuinely didn’t have anything prepared,” Toria says after she returns to the stage in her long black dress and lifts the strap of her acoustic guitar back onto her shoulder. She decides to treat us to a new song, telling us she’s finished writing her second album and it’s currently in tracking. The song was written while she was reading the Gothic horror novel The Woman in Black, and “this song is loosely attached to that”.
‘House on the Hill’ is the song in question, and if tonight has been an impressive recreation of her first album, ‘House on the Hill’ shows that Toria’s second is to be eagerly anticipated. You can hear a pin drop as her clear voice fills the hall with one of those memorable folk melodies she has proven to be so good at creating. The song is played solo by Toria on her guitar: an unprepared encore, no arrangement from Polly, the four members of the Camerata now just four more additions to an admiring audience of hundreds at the Derby Hall. It’s not the free entry that appeals. It’s not the orchestra that keeps us fixed in place, remarkable as they are. The draw remains the woman in black, Toria herself.
Setlist:
(all songs from the album Toria Wooff and written by Toria Wooff, unless noted)
I’ve been blessed to experience many fine concerts, from stadia hosting legends such as Paul McCartney and Nick Cave to the likes of Kassi Valazza singing a Neil Young song in a bakery in York or her own remarkable songbook in churches of her own. But no concert has been so unique as this warm, bright Saturday evening in Liverpool, hearing Toria Wooff’s voice soar in the Nordic Church.
The Gustav Adolfs Kyrka is an impressive sight as you approach. It is a Swedish stave church, a rarity outside Scandinavia, though built out of familiar British redbrick. While its tall greyed spire is dwarfed by the more recent tower-block developments that encroach upon it along Liverpool’s waterfront, the church dominates the sky and steals the heart in a way those more soulless buildings never could.
By English standards the church is young; built in 1884 for itinerant Norse sailors and emigrants on their way to America, you enter under the black-and-gold sign that names this ‘Skandinaviska sjömanskyrkan’ (Scandinavian Seaman’s Church) and walk up two flights of narrow stairs to enter the nave. Unlike the conventional rectangular shape found in a typical English church, the nave of the Nordic Church is an eye-catching octagonal lantern shape. Bride-white walls host Gothic lancet windows through which the sun pours as I take my seat on an empty pew in the front row. I gaze up at the roof high above. More learned eyes than mine would be able to draw out the nuances of the kyrka‘s architecture, but I know enough to recognise the Gothic Revival elements both inside and outside the church.
This, perhaps, is why Toria Wooff has chosen the venue to host her night of music. Wearing a long black dress and black boots to match her jet-black hair, this self-professed Goth is undergoing a Gothic Revival of her own. In March she released her self-titled debut album, a powerful, nuanced collection of self-penned folk songs with tasteful touches of country and Americana. In May I saw her live in a packed basement in Manchester as part of her successful album tour and, after tonight, I will surely see her again in the autumn, for she reveals to the audience in the Nordic Church that she will be touring again in October. In the meantime, she is busy recording and tracking her next album with James Wyatt, her partner and producer, and we’re treated to five unreleased songs in the setlist tonight.
There’s no opening act; instead, Toria performs two sets with an intermission, during which she mingles with the audience. She does not perform alone: as on her earlier album tour, Toria’s voice and acoustic guitar are supported by Polly Virr, who seats the endpin of her cello into a strap extending from the leg of her chair. Unlike in Manchester, where my view of Polly was obscured, tonight I’m able to not only hear but see her cello’s vibrato and tasteful glissandos complement Toria’s songs. The luxurious sound of the cello has never felt so essential.
Appropriately enough, the opening song in this singular church is ‘The Bargain’, an unreleased song that seems to be about a deal made with the devil (“he appeared in trusted clothes, cuffed and collared around his throat”) that also doubles brilliantly as a song about an independent woman who risks being ensnared by a controlling man (“the only thing I ask you to be: a doting mother, a wife to me”). It’s a fine introduction to Toria’s sound: a powerfully-sung, intelligent song with a timeless folk melody.
‘The Bargain’ is one that Toria has picked alone on her guitar, but Polly now joins for a flurry of songs from the album; ‘Lefty’s Motel Room’, ‘Song for A’ and ‘Sweet William’, her cello sounding particularly fine on the latter song. Toria then goes solo again for ‘Mountains’. This was one of the first songs of hers that really grabbed my attention, and while, like ‘Lefty’ before it, the subtle country touches of the recorded version are missing from the live duo of guitar and cello, it still resonates from the eight walls of the Nordic chamber.
Many artists are diminished by having their songs stripped back. Toria Wooff’s songs, by contrast, feel like they could bloom in arid desert. There’s a strength to her songwriting that allows for flexibility, and the songs work just as well on stage with Polly’s cello as they do with the more textured soundscape James Wyatt helps provide on vinyl. Quite by chance, and without fanfare, I have in the North of England stumbled across one of the more impressive young songwriters I’ve had the privilege to hear live. Toria proves it further with a series of unreleased songs to end her first set: ‘House on the Hill’, inspired by Susan Hill’s Gothic novel The Woman in Black, is a future fan-favourite, while ‘Good Mother’ showcases her gift for melody. The closer, ‘Battering Ram’, is one Toria says she has never played live before. Picked softly and sung gently as a folk song, it fits my above thesis about the songs’ flexibility to a tee: I could easily imagine it being recorded as heavy metal.
‘Battering Ram’ is met with applause – as, deservedly, has every song before it. In contrast to the gig I witnessed in the basement in Manchester a couple of months ago, where Toria told jokes and anecdotes to a heaving crowd, each round of applause tonight has been met with an almost shy thank-you from the lady at the mike.
It’s almost certainly due to the nature of the venue: a sacrosanct church with an audience lined in pews implicitly demands a more consciously demure approach than the rowdy crowd who backed into that dark Manchester basement. Certainly, during the intermission Toria is as bright and outgoing as ever.
She greets me with a hug and is pleased I came; she had placed me on the guest list tonight as a token of gratitude for purchasing one of her canvases recently. (She’s a talented painter as well as a singer-songwriter. As for me, it feels good to be an art patron, like I’m a 16th-century Italian count.) Toria signs a concert poster for me, as does James. (“Some people care about the producer,” he teases her.) She glides around the room and smiles and chats, offering her attention to anyone who wishes for it. As I return to the front row, a corgi pokes its nose out from under the pew, roaming around in search of pats and rubs. It’s a good night.
I know you just want to see the doggo.
As Toria and Polly return to the stage for their second set, the stagelights brighten due to the slowly failing light outside. Perhaps inspired by the intermission’s canine concierge, Toria opens with ‘Black Shuck’, which she says is about “the demon dog of East Anglia… and what the dog did in a church in the 1500s”. I check under my pew to make sure the corgi hasn’t also been doing things in a church. Jokes aside, ‘Black Shuck’ is a fine song, as yet unreleased, with another bona fide English folk melody from Toria.
Now comes ‘The Flood’, a highlight of the night as it looks like both Toria and Polly particularly enjoy playing this one. The picking required on Toria’s guitar seems to energise her, as do the opportunities the song gives her voice to wail and soar. Polly is given her head too, weaving some cool vibrato flourishes into the performance. After the song ends, Toria is full of praise for Polly Virr from the mike. “She’s so good that in the set before, I actually played a song in the wrong key and didn’t know, and she just ran with it. So that’s why I keep her around.”
To reciprocate, Polly is moved to provide some of the most gorgeous cello sounds of the night, joining Toria’s voice in flight as the two soar on ‘Author Song’ and giving a cinematic through-line to ‘The Waltz of Winter Hey’. The latter is a real testament to Toria’s verisimilitude; she loves ghost stories, she says, and there’s not enough of them in Lancashire, so she decided to make her own. In her poet’s hands, this non-descript street of shopfronts in her hometown of Horwich (there’s an Aldi at one end of Winter Hey Lane, a nail parlour at the other) becomes a potent and foreboding place plagued by jealousy and the returning dead.
After another song, the sweet and simple palate-cleanser ‘That’s What Falling in Love Will Do’, Toria thanks the venue promoters, Mike Phoenix and Jon Edwards, for making the night happen (“they have such a good ethos with musicians”). At the end of the show, they will hold a raffle and hand out chocolates and wine to the winners, but in truth we’re all winners tonight. The venue, the seating, the audience and, of course, the music, have all been top drawer. My own ethos is never to seek out an artist before or after the show unless it happens naturally, and tonight it happens naturally. At the end of the night, I get another hug from Toria after she signs my setlist – another welcome surprise, for usually these sheets are swiped by fans before the artists’ footsteps have even finished echoing from the stage. But I stand around at the front to see if anyone else wants to take it before I do. No one does, and a beaming Toria is only too happy to sign it for me.
But before that time comes, Toria and Polly are still on stage, and they are yet to provide their finest moment. ‘See Things Through’ starts with Toria alone on her guitar. About a minute in, Polly comes in with that rich and resonant cello sound we’ve been so blessed with tonight. It’s an excellent song, one of those that indisputably deserves a wider audience. It’s sung with both vulnerability and remarkable power by an almost transcendent Toria Wooff; that chiaroscuro effect this lady in black in a white church is able to capture so impressively.
The song builds to its epic finale, Toria’s voice and Polly’s strings soaring in unison and falling in release. The applause which has greeted every song’s end tonight bursts spontaneously into roars for an encore. The duo oblige, with a gentle and calming rendition of ‘Estuaries’ to end the night. They are presented with garlands of flowers by Mike and Jon, and I grin as a sheepish James Wyatt is also called to the stage to take a deserved round of applause for his role in this music.
“You leave without saying goodbye,” Toria sang in that final song, and as an invited guest I determine not to slip out quietly into the night as I normally do at concerts. Toria signs the setlist for me, as I mentioned, but I’m also moved to thank her for the invitation and promising that I’ll certainly be coming to many more nights like this to witness her talent. I’m able to thank Polly too, and we talk about the night in Manchester. James is in a back-room somewhere, so as Toria walks past I touch her gently on the arm and ask her to say goodbye to him for me. It feels silly as I do so, and yet also natural; the warm welcome they have extended to me makes this moment feel like one of those gatherings of friends where you part and know you will come again. I descend the stairs to the exit, where Mike and Jon shake the hands of those who leave. I walk down the road on a summer evening that, despite the efforts of tonight’s Gothic revival, refuses to truly darken.
Setlist:
(no opening act; two full sets with intermission after ‘Battering Ram’)
(all songs from the album Toria Wooff and written by Toria Wooff, unless noted)
“I’m a big Goth. I love ghost stories,” Toria Wooff says from the stage, to the surprise of nobody present. With her raven-black hair and bride-white laced blouse, she already looks as though she has stepped through time, down from the Lancashire moors which overlook her hometown of Horwich.
Toria is about to launch into her own ghost story, the haunting self-penned folk song ‘The Waltz of Winter Hey’. But before she does, she has borrowed another ghost story she wishes to tell us, that she heard up in Scotland.
The Piper and the Dog is a story of Edinburgh Castle. Hundreds of years ago, a tunnel was discovered near the castle dungeons, and while it appeared to travel all down the Royal Mile underneath the city, nobody knew exactly where it went. The townsfolk sent down a brave piper to explore, and his dog followed him. Up above, the townsfolk could hear the man’s pipes as he played and so could follow where he went.
At some point the sound of the pipes ended suddenly, as though stopped by an external hand. In telling the story, Toria does not evoke the name of Great Hand, the spirit that is said to dwell in these accursed underground paths. Perhaps it is just as well, on a night where 66 souls have packed into a close, dark underground basement of their own to hear her vocal pipes play. But she does tell us that the piper was never found. And that when the dog made its way out, the townsfolk found its hair singed as though by flame.
The basement on Charles Street in Manchester does not appear to have any ghosts of its own, none apparently having passed over with the lease in 2018, when this antiques warehouse built in 1912 was converted into a music, food and events venue. But it is a worthy setting regardless for Toria Wooff’s haunting brand of Gothic folk. After descending the steps to the basement, I am enveloped by its thick darkness. With the exception of the red lights of the stage, the prevailing light comes from dim orange conches scattered around the room.
My own discovery of this artist came not from dungeons, but has proved just as fascinating to explore. Just a few short weeks after first hearing her name (pronounced like “roof”) and deciding to listen to her sole, self-titled album many times over, I am here listening to the whole thing played live. I marvel not only at the swelling power of her vocals, which are as immaculate as they are on the record, but at how quickly these songs have become familiar to me. The bones of the songs are strong, and in Toria’s performance she fills them with body.
It is a night of bones, for the six-song set of the opening act also proves strong. Appropriately enough, there is in this basement a Creepy Crawly, the stage name of Rachel Cawley. One of the things I find so rewarding on nights like this is the opportunity to take a chance on new music and have that vindicated; to not only experience a talented local-born artist like Toria Wooff take flight, so soon after discovering her name, but to hear emerging talent like Rachel’s.
Backed by Tom Latham on electric guitar, Rachel sits at her keys and sings a compelling set of deep and meaningful songs, including ‘Afraid to Fail’, ‘Slowly Goes the River’ (“a song lamenting the linear passage of time,” she says) and ‘December ’88’, a song which becomes even more profound when you learn the story behind it. This is true art. Rachel ends by picking up a banjo, warning that this “could go badly”. However, ‘All the Stars in the Sky’ proves anything but. A banjo on a strong-boned song is a memorable feeling, and I’m sure I’m not the only new fan Rachel has acquired from the basement tonight.
But the night truly belongs to Toria. She shapes it to her will. Backed by her friend Polly Virr on cello, a resonant instrument that fills the room and swells our hearts, she performs the entirety of her remarkable album in sequential order, as well as a trio of unreleased songs neatly placed between what would be ‘side A’ and ‘side B’.
With such a concise setlist, it is hard to pick out moments and the magic of the night can only be recalled in its grand sweep of melody and feeling. Some songs stand out, of course. The crowd-favourite ‘The Waltz of Winter Hey’. The tender ‘That’s What Falling in Love Will Do’. The new songs which tantalise us with evidence that Toria’s incipient flight may prove to be broad and lasting. And then there’s the stunning and mature ‘See Things Through’, a song that burns slowly and doesn’t seem like it’s going to knock you over until you realise you’re already on your arse.
In between songs, Toria morphs from ethereal song-bride into pure Lancashire lass, grinning and telling deliberately crap jokes and connecting with people in the crowd over the Susan Hill novel The Woman in Black, which inspired her ‘House on the Hill’ song tonight. While on paper such things may seem to risk dispelling the delicate, haunting tone of Toria’s music, in reality it does not. Such moments earth her, allow us to recognise her as genuine, and make it all the more remarkable when after a laugh she picks on the strings of her guitar again and casts another spell.
There is a sense of everything being correct, of this being one of those nights of live music where everything falls into place and it is remembered: the pure, soaring voice which seems to have carried down from the Wilderswood moor; the confident folk picking on Toria’s acoustic guitar; the times when Polly’s cello bursts with a violently beautiful sound at the optimal moment of a song’s release, as in ‘The Flood’ – a concoction of timing and beauty and flowering expression that together makes the experience as a whole truly special.
It is Toria’s biggest gig of the tour, and while the 60-plus people who have filled the Yes Basement may not seem like a large number in the scheme of things, the enthusiasm and the energy of the fans here – and the same from Toria in response – have made it seem like 600. The basement has heaved like a living thing, and while Great Hand himself may not be here to silence the music, when Toria chooses to end it herself she receives her own great hand of applause. As the crowd slowly filters out, I think of us as pipers who, having descended, have heard such music in the dark that we have no wish to return to the surface. But in the dissipating magic of the basement, I morph reluctantly from the piper into the dog who is marked by his experience. I walk up the stairs and out onto Charles Street, a light rain falling in the night to soothe my singed skin.
Setlist:
(all songs from the album Toria Wooff and written by Toria Wooff, unless noted)
Recent Comments