Kate is great

U.K. sensation Kate Nash gives Hollywood anglophiles something to adore

By Melissa Bobbitt
Published: January 15th, 2008 | 7:17pm

January 14, 2008, in West Hollywood, Calif. — It's befitting that British singer/multi-instrumentalist Kate Nash's introductory music at her first-ever Los Angeles show was the opening score to “The Wizard of Oz.” With her doe eyes and illustrious red tresses, she had that incredible “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” aura about her. (She even strutted around in ruby — OK, fuchsia — slippers.) And L.A.'s denizens, usually so jaded and careworn on sluggish Monday nights, greeted Nash with enthusiasm akin to that of the Munchkins welcoming the mysterious moppet Dorothy Gale for the first time. Bespectacled emo girls and aging newspaper critics alike tittered and smiled through the hour-long performance, all eager to brag that they go to see her at the tiny Troubadour before she became the next “it” girl.

Though repeatedly compared to fellow Englishwoman Lily Allen, Nash's “it” factor makes her compatriot look like the Wicked Witch of the West. Sure, Allen, too, fiddles with guitars, but Nash nails down both guitar and keyboards (albeit, at separate times). Her breadth of emotions on her ace new album, Made of Bricks (Interscope), is even more evident live. In such an intimate venue as the Troubadour, one could see her lower lip quiver when mewling over unrequited love during the acoustic tearjerker “The Nicest Thing.” Empathy is her strongest suit, especially in concert. Many a “you go, girl!” was shouted during the deceptively cheery “We Get On,” in which she sings about conducting “a plan to bump into you most accidentally.” A particularly enthusiastic group of gals near the stage ate it up, most likely because they were trying those exact moves on blokes beside them.

More so than Whitney Houston or Chaka Khan, Nash really is “every woman.” She can embody an innocent fairy-tale dreamer on one track (the solo piano paean “Little Red”) and morph into an unabashed bitch on the next (the scornful tune “Foundations”). She humbly thanked the fans between songs, but then exposed virginal ears to lyrics containing the words “twat” and “dickhead.” It's rare that a young artist — she's 20 — so adeptly plays up both her naughty and nice sides.

As for the opening act, Karin Tatoyan, well, there was nothing very nice about her set. She unintentionally portrayed herself as a Björk for Dummies, spazzing and expectorating almost exactly like the Icelandic legend. Samples of “snow — feet walking through the snow,” (as she curtly told the audience) crunched over warbling that sounded like the copyright infringing cousin of “Human Behaviour.” Now there's one ruffian who belongs in Oz.