Patrick Wolf, Rough Trade East review - the Kent-based bard refashions his new album ‘Crying the Neck’

After the evening’s second song “The Last of England,” Patrick Wolf cautions “I’ve got nothing left to say.” During the shows leading up to this outing promoting his new album Crying the Neck, he says he felt “like I’ve been drag-queen story hour” and, in Kingston, “a preacher.” He’s talked out. All that there is to say has been said.

Of course, this does not prove to be the case. There is tons to relate. He says the album’s “On Your Side” was written on bus journeys between central London’s Gray’s Inn Road and the Royal Marsden Hospital. How, now he lives in Kent rather than London, that returning to the city is “like visiting a haunted house [with] all kinds of ghosts and monsters.” That to live in the capital “your spirit has to be moving at 500 miles per hour.” He explains that the lyrics of “Better or Worse” draw from his interpretation of the East Kent tradition of the Hooden Horse – in the parallels between the story of the overworked horse which dies and then comes back to life to his own return to making records, playing live and all those things which follow on from releasing a new album. It makes sense. The folk-inclined Crying the Neck, issued last week, is his first album since 2011’s Lupercalia. This return is a form of resurrection.

'Crying the Neck' is grand. This show is a test of how the album's songs work outside the studio environment

During the period away, there’s been bankruptcy, family bereavement, treatment for addiction and the move from London to East Kent. He declares “I’m a country boy now.” Wearing a leather trousers and waistcoat combination with heavy boots, his garb crosses that of a 19th-century drayman with someone from the same period in the process of assembling a hay stack. Fitting, as the album title Crying the Neck borrows the name of the harvest festival custom of holding aloft the season’s final sheaf of corn.

This live appearance explains a lot about Crying the Neck. Add in further pointers such as the voices of Aleister Crowley and Vita Sackville-West, both heard on the album. There is also the hand bell ensemble The Bedford Ringers, who contribute to “Song of the Scythe.” The title of the album’s third cut "The Last of England” clearly nods to Derek Jarman’s 1987 film of the same name. That featured Tilda Swinton, who has worked with Wolf. Despite the length of time it took to arrive, neither he or his grand new album exist in a vacuum.

And Crying the Neck is grand. The sonic architecture surrounding its songs is ornate. This, then, is a test of how the songs work outside the studio environment. Instead of – as would be expected from playing a stage at the back of a record shop – performing with perhaps just an acoustic guitar or some other instrument, Wolf chooses to play a full, just-short of an hour show. Ten songs from the album are performed.

Patrick Wolf knows who he is and how he wants to be perceived. Who wants Mr. Average?

Wolf is accompanied by Sophie Crawford (dulcimer, accordion, tenor guitar – she has made two solo albums), Tom Falle (keyboards – he records as Rhumba Club) and Charlie Stock (viola – she is member of the band Bas Jan, which also includes Serafina Steer, who is on Crying the Neck. Stock also regularly plays with FKA Twigs). None of the trio are on the album. No matter. This is different. It is not minimal. However, and equally, there is no attempt to recreate what is on the album. “Song of the Scythe’s” bells are replaced by Wolf’s Celtic harp. Set closer “Foreland” is performed solo at what seems to be an electric harmonium. It comes across like Nico or a modified Shirley and Dolly Collins.

In this context, Crying the Neck is revealed to be as much about its songs as its lyrics – lyrics of renewal, lyrics also reflecting Wolf’s allusive version of a state-of-the-nation commentary. His voice is astonishingly powerful. More theatre stage than rock venue. Again, the unforeseen (though very welcome) decision to deliver this as a show as such rams home a seriousness of intent. Yes, he is droll, funny and his asides are seemingly spontaneously incautious, but he knows who he is and how he wants to be perceived. Who wants Mr. Average? Not Patrick Wolf. Or this audience.

Following this charming, magnetic performance, the next stage of evening. Seemingly all 200 or so of the sell-out audience line up to get their albums signed. Presumably, the feeling of having “nothing left to say” has fully dissipated.

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