GRACE PETRIE | LIVE REVIEW
The Moon, Cardiff, Wed 10 Oct
“Who in the crowd is a leftie?” shouts Grace Petrie, cradling her acoustic guitar on the Moon’s tiny stage. The crowd hollers.
“OK, that’s good,” she nods. “Because if that’s not your thing, you are not going to have fun tonight.”
She’s not joking. For the past 12 years Petrie, 31, has been slowly but surely building a rep as Britain’s next voice-of-a-generation protest singer. Starting small in her hometown of Leicester, she self-released a handful of albums before the election of everyone’s favourite ham-faced toff in 2010 steered her songwriting in a decidedly more political direction. Relentless touring of student unions and leftie anthem Farewell To Welfare sent her star soaring, landing her a place on Billy Bragg’s list of favourite artists and a support slot on the upcoming Frank Turner arena tour.
For now, though, she’s still connecting with her diehard fans in venues that barely need a microphone. Petrie’s unwavering voice is powerful enough to move mountains and the crowd is dead silent as she sings, hanging on to every word, because when she sings you don’t want to miss a thing. Her songs are incisive, funny, and informative as hell – sitting through her two-part set is like receiving a punchy news bulletin of every current affairs topic from the last three years.
There’s the obligatory Fuck Trump song, which is never not going to go down well, and a casual “fuck Jeremy Clarkson” remark that goes down even better. You Build A Wall is a wry dig at self-righteous assclowns who chuck the ‘snowflake’ label at anyone who takes their politics with a pinch of compassion, and Black Tie tackles gender identity with class and humour. She gently mocks the Guardian’s claims that there is no such thing as a protest singer in I Wish The Guardian Believed That I Exist, then switches briefly to sweetness with an ode to her new-born niece Ivy.
But what’s most charming about Petrie is her humility. Though confused, she laughs along when a spontaneous ‘oggy oggy oggy’ chant breaks out, and chuckles mid-song when some goon revs up his motorcycle outside. In the interval she jumps into the crowd and chats with the audience, before the sound guy reminds her that she’s needed back onstage. Enjoy it while you can, Grace – arenas beckon.
words BETTI HUNTER