Live at the Marquee: Imelda May

TO her credit, Imelda May has achieved the improbable, attaining mainstream success as a rockabilly artiste.

Not since The Stray Cats, Shakin’ Stevens et al in the ‘80s has anyone engaged with the genre to such spectacular effect.

It undoubtedly helps that May’s fashion sense has struck a chord with a new generation of Fifties-fixated young ladies. But it’s not as if the Marquee, thronged as it is, is simply full of Betty Page wannabes or potential Suicide Girls; the singer’s audience is far broader than that. It is also the case that she possesses that elusive wow factor that would surely have propelled her to the top in any genre she chose.

And as it happens, May’s interests are by no means confined to rockabilly. After all, the instrument she is most closely associated with is that much-maligned monster of percussion, the bodhrán. As a singer, she has also mastered the blues, and early in her set, she makes light work of Howling Wolf’s Poor Boy, a song not often tackled by a woman.

May’s tender side is also much on evidence on Kentish Town Waltz, which one could imagine the Pogues having their way with on a wet afternoon in some London-Irish den of iniquity. After that, it’s a string of original numbers that includes Sneaky Freak and Big Bad Handsome Man.

May does a nice line in banter with the audience. “I just want to thank yous all!” she exclaims more than once, in a Dublin accent that’s completely at odds with her sultry singing voice.

May is well aided and abetted by her husband Darrel Higham on guitar — Duane Eddy to her Wanda Jackson — and a band of musicians whose sound is as tight as a teddy-boy’s trousers, with Al Gare on double bass truly getting into the swing of things. This was the first of two shows at the Marquee. May will return to headline again next week, on Thursday, June 23. Expect Mayhem and magic to be present and correct again.

Verdict: 4/5