I delighted the aural and visual senses at a Bishi gig last night with my dear friend Mr Clarke. The Shoreditch church setting could not have been more fitting, the venue was bedecked with jewel coloured tea lights and the heady waft of mulled wine hung in the air. The atmosphere commanded a certain holy reverence.
Bishi delivered a hypnotic performance, imagine a Hindi Deity with Bardotesque features, Alison Goldfrapp's diminutive yet powerful stage presence, Ravi Shankar's virtuosity on sitar and street poetry issuing from her glorious voice box.
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