The show was packed to the rafters with what seemed like every French person in town to hear the Gallic answer to Bjork perform — and I mean perform — live
Dressed for the most part in a flowing orange robe, Camille swooshed and pranced around the north London stage in a series of odd movements. The set consisted almost entirely of a cappella. Mixing barbershop and beatbox techniques to create the musical backing to her eccentric style of singing. The Camille of her first album came back occasionally with the rich melodies and clever harmonies but for the most part the new Camille has to her fans become increasingly experimental and to other ears carried away with her own precocious talent.
A series of peculiar sketches including a mystifying episode with Camille asking random questions pulled from a newspaper added to the cabaret air of the show. Camille is charming and at times funny, her hiccuping treatment of ‘Too Drunk (to Fuck)’, for example definitely had its moments but can easily veer into just being silly. And it would be churlish to castigate any performer for wearing a dress that showed off the crack of their bottom, especially as it is a very nice bottom.
I have to add as a disclaimer that the crowds were so dense by the time I arrived that I was near the back, better positioned to hear the sound of the bar than the sound of Camille. Perhaps if I had been closer the suspension of belief would have kicked in and I might have enjoyed the concert as much as the vast majority of the audience clearly were.
In an ideal world, it would be great to hear her perform in a smaller, less-rammed venue but that time has passed; for Camille is an odd but undeniable star.