We always had PJ Harvey down as a terse madam, possibly a bit of a narcissist, difficult to be around certainly, challenging to work with probably, cold, guarded, fiercely creative, protective. Etcetera. She’s got a back catalogue of musical open wounds, gothic death-stares in photoshoots and less than forthcoming public image to thank for that. But she’s not, none of it! Not all of it anyway. She’s bloody lovely, so she is. In a when-are-they-bringing-out-the-PJ-edition-of-Barbie, put-her-in-your-pocket lovely. We watch her here goofing about, endearingly, gushing under the influence of tequila post-show, adorably, breaking into distracted giggles during ‘Down By The Water’, sweetly, and candidly unveiling her thoughts with quite some consideration and class. Softly. Along with the occasional unexpected splash of a West Country accent. We’d probably be disappointed if this whole manner didn’t suit her so well and make for such an insightful ride.
“I’ve always hated live DVDs, live albums, I wanted to try and do this differently,” utters she with thoughtful composure at one point, “I wanted it to be a real patchwork quilt of what it’s actually like, I didn’t want a smooth, slick concert, I wanted the ramshackle feel of how it is everyday, the changeability”. And while she hasn’t so much innovated with her first DVD release, she has fashioned an intimate portrait of a tour that never goes so far as to feel directed (no slight intended, director Maria Mochnacz – take it as a compliment!). It has a very natural momentum and hops about with a giddy, involved interest.
It judders alternately between rough and more controlled captures of performances on the ‘Uh Huh Her’ tour last year, to self-conducted interviews with a handheld camera, words with the band and crew, grabs of soundchecks, rehearsals, en route, and so on. The performances themselves, with material spanning her entire career and not at all tilted towards recent works, are things of wound-up, caustic, static beauty, reassuringly ragged around the edges – it’s a sensual texture and it remains constantly. It showcases Polly Jean the performer, the rock chanteuse, as the antithesis of the inner composure on display elsewhere. It reminds us that she’s not any kind of extroverted disaster-in-progress a la Courtney Love or Pete Doherty – that’s not her appeal – but an artist in precise control of all she creates.
There are 2 previously unreleased non-album tracks included too. ‘Uh Huh Her’ is like a Stooges song with bits chopped out and moved around like one of those cheap rearranged picture puzzles locked in a square of plastic, solved by Patti Smith. It’s rough, startling and sticky sweet. ‘Evol’ creeps and stutters similarly, grubbying itself, shrieking with spontaneous necessity.
Age has not mellowed Polly Harvey. Which is perhaps what you presumed was at least in part behind her recently announced intention to retire from traditional live performance and choose her public appearances more carefully. But that is at complete odds with the evidence on display here of a lady with an undimmed lust for life, a bubbling passion for every detail of her art and an amicable appreciation of everything around her. It would be a crying shame if this documented her final forays in this arena. Perplexingly, or perhaps thankfully, she may not be a major player. But still, without her things would you fear be a little too quiet.