"Now you see them, now you don't/Faces, limbs, a bouncing skull," she sings against rushing acoustic guitars, braying sax and circular hand claps on "The Wheel," a survey of the cyclical nature of war.
Harvey traveled to Afghanistan and Kosovo, and spent time in Washington, D.
He’s more willing to talk about PJ’s record than he is his own.
She is very sensitive, cautious, and shy about showing others her feelings.
In intent and execution, a more or less perfect show.
Drawing heavily from last year’s , a travelogue account of her travels to experience post-war Afghanistan and Kosovo, and the clearance of housing in Washington DC, the set is political without being preachy, personal without being self-obsessed, human but with no sense of desperation for acceptance.This is music so powerful that it pulls you into its orbit, from the broken, two-saxophones-in-one-mouth oddity of “The Ministry of Defence”, thundering out as a modernist concrete wall rises into place behind the band, to the visceral evocation of a bloody battlefield on “The Words That Maketh Murder”.also shapes the political tone of the show, and the feeble rallying sound of a bugle on “This Glorious Land” speaks to a different kind of imagined solidarity than “The Community of Hope”, an airy, upbeat ode to people power.As unlikely as it sounds, at first it’s difficult to spot PJ Harvey – not because she isn’t the only woman out of ten performers onstage, or that she isn’t an unmistakably charismatic figure, but because she seems wilfully disguised amid the doleful procession drumming themselves onto the stage.There’s no showbiz entrance for her; only when the instrumental introduction to “Chain of Keys” has finished does the woman modestly hanging around amid the other musicians, saxophone in hand, step forward.
Harvey can also be very manipulative, in a subtle way.