The acoustic set is traditionally regarded as the litmus test of a pop artist, a host of whom have, for the past week, been unplugging to play short sets at the Union Chapel to raise money for the charity Mencap.
Unbilled but making a surprise last-night appearance, Chris Martin is accompanied by a single violinist as he strums through two Dylan numbers, I Will Be Released and Buckets of Rain, and the Killers' When You Were Young. He then switches to piano for a song he wrote the night before ("So it might be shit"). Martin improvises Noel Gallagher-themed lyrics to the Nick Cave-lite track before abandoning the whole exercise after just two minutes.
Few clues there, then, to Coldplay's next musical direction.
Martin's warm reception palls next to that received by local girl Lily Allen. "My mum and dad got married in this chapel," the scarlet-clad singer tells the crowd, the majority of whom appear to be related to her. "It didn't last long, obviously." It's easy to resent Allen's current media ubiquity, but she is an engaging performer and her lightweight anthems work well in this context. Smile and the lilting white reggae of LDN suggest a street-sharp Minnie Ripperton, and she has the grace to look abashed when she forgets the lyrics to Everything's Just Wonderful, until someone runs backstage to Google them for her.
The Automatic apologise for the lack of mastery in their acoustic art, lurching through their Kaiser Chiefs-like summer hit Monster and a breathtakingly bad version of Kanye West's Gold Digger. White soul boy James Morrison rounds off the night and is its biggest disappointment. Possessed of a great Motown-esque voice, Morrison wastes it on trite pseudo-confessionals and sub-Simply Red musical trifles. The over-emoting of The Letter is as grotesque as any X Factor hopeful. Morrison fails the acoustic test Martin and Allen pass: he needs to go away and get real.
Source: http://music.guardian.co.uk
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