BAC, LondonThere's a moment halfway through Kate Tempest's spoken-word theatre show when the gloom intensifies and the vaulted ceiling is lit up by the glow from the streetlights outside, pouring in through squares cut in the blacked-out window. At this point, Tempest's growling sandpaper voice takes on a mesmerising sing-song quality, and Nell Catchpole's score pulses and soars. Suddenly it feels as if we are not in…
SOURCE: The Guardian at 01:18PM on September 10, 2012