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18 September 2003

Bleeding UK Tour
London, Borderline

Review by Matt Thompson

Agitated, Carina Round kicks her shoes into the audience and scrambles bare foot around the stage. Face contorted and hair draped over an acoustic guitar, she's a vision of demented complexity. And, like the Cure fronted by PJ Harvey, her music is equally intriguing - droning and shrieking as Carina quakes. Between songs there's an uneasy calm as punters survey the room to check the evening hasn't been sabotaged by some mad woman from the asylum. They have good reason to be doubtful. Shaken by the strength of her own lyrics, Carina works the tiny stage like a space shuttle in a car park; crashing around with the grace of a schizophrenic pill-head. Like this, her safety - both physical and mental - looks in serious doubt. Thankfully, she makes it to the set's end and storms quickly into her dressing room. The rest of us stand motionless in wonderment.

Originally printed in The Fly magazine - Oct 2003