Aldous sits on a stool at the front of the stage in a large ballroom on a rainy Sunday night. She is hunched over, almost engulfing her acoustic guitar, and struggling to find the right tune in the strings. She is surrounded by the heavy instruments and amplifiers of the full bands that perform on either end of her humble set.
Her face is tense while her keyboardist holds notes to help her tune, and this tension - a kind of torture - never leaves her face all the time she is on stage. Her expression and her posture are somehow more eerie because she is beautiful.
The music that Aldous Harding picks and croons is as deep and dark as it is delightful. Her style is dynamic and sincere - the music reflecting the joy and struggle of lyrics that are obviously teased out of her life.
And yet there is a timelessness to her song. Her themes, and the scenes she paints in the darkness of a ballroom could have come from the last century, or the next. And perhaps they have, and will.Words by: Matt Smoot