Sea of Bees – review

4 / 5 stars
The Bowery, Sheffield

"A lot of our shows have been disturbingly quiet," says Sacramento singer-songwriter Julie Ann Bee. "It's actually nice to have a bit of rowdiness." She's performing in the unlikely setting of Sheffield's weekend drinking quarter, but when she sings, the boozy chatter subsides into the rapt attention that she's experienced at other shows. When each song ends, she is cheered to the rafters.

The 26-year-old has been winning over everyone from musicians such as Grandaddy's Jason Lytle to the reviewers who have acclaimed her Songs for the Ravens album. Singing so close to the microphone that she scrapes it with her nose, her vocals are simultaneously childlike and aged, intimate and astonishing. Her unchained melodies reflect the twin blossoming of her musical talent and her sexuality. "I wrote this for my girlfriend," she trills, excitedly. "That's a secret for you!" However, there has been agony as well as ecstasy: another song is about "someone I used to love".

Armed with only a guitar and a backing singer but able to conjure instantly memorable tunes from an echoey twang and a couple of chords, watching the denim-jacketed, bowl-haired performer is like riding an emotional rollercoaster. Willis is a sublime, almost giddy anthem to a love "bigger than the sea, bigger than me". By contrast, the exquisite The Woods hinges her existence on the prospect of one elusive kiss. "Maybe I could die" she cries, holding this chilling note for what feels an eternity. "Happy as a bird!" she squeals, and the choir of boozy voices cheer her once again.