There are many ways to act in this world. One, if you have the rare talent, is to write the words Kate Tempest writes. Another, if you have the good fortune, is to listen to them.
Tonight I listened. She turns words into molten silver and the motes that flicker in the light as you grasp for them into barbs.
I was delighted at the end that she rejected the increasingly fatuous and inflationary encore game. She came back onto the stage and, in more of the accent I bask in, told us, 'I do not want you to be disappointed but I have said what I came out here to say'. Then she left.
I'm sorry you weren't there.
Hold your own