Like a big helping of sticky toffee pudding, Avery Sunshine’s performance never ceases to comfort. 

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I felt both exhausted and liberated as Avery Sunshine, the stage name of Denise Johnson (née White), finished her set at South London’s Hideaway last night. Performing the final sold-out show of her two day residency, the singer-songwriter bantered brilliantly, sang beautifully, and professed a fondness for Hideaway’s sticky toffee pudding. The House That Soul Built will have to inspect the latter on our next visit.

Born in Philadelphia, Sunshine began playing piano at the age of eight. She majored in piano at Atlanta’s Spelman College before switching, perhaps surprisingly in retrospect, to philosophy. Raised in the gospel tradition, Sunshine’s skills as a choir director have attracted the likes of Jennifer Holliday, Michael Bublé, and David Foster for various projects. In 2010, she released her debut eponymous album to critical success. In 2014 she returned with the equally lauded The Sun Room. Last week saw the UK release of her latest studio album, Twenty Sixty Four – the source of most of last night’s setlist.

‘Sunshine’ is indeed a fitting stage name. Her material – a shimmery blend of jazz, soul, and gospel – drips with optimism and humour. ‘Come Do Nothing’, with a hint of Lauryn Hill in its chorus, conveys Sunshine’s longing for an old flame, despite conceding that both have moved on. With coy charm, Sunshine tries to entice her past lover with homemade gumbo. On the other end of the spectrum is ‘Jump’, a message of warm reassurance to her children. The audience were clearly spellbound by her earnest delivery, her voice filling up the room even as she sang away from the microphone.

Sunshine’s rapport with her husband – guitarist, lyricist, and co-producer Dana Johnson – anchors most of the material on Twenty Sixty Four. The bond is so strong that Sunshine even claims she would give up ice cream for her husband (‘The Ice Cream Song’). On ‘Used Car’, a playful exercise in sexual metaphor, she asserts her confidence in her ‘tried and tested’ model to a funky, throwback arrangement. After dipping briefly into Gladys Knight’s ‘Midnight Train to Georgia’, Sunshine also treated the audience with a radiant cover of Aretha Franklin’s (much neglected) ‘Day Dreaming’.

Vocally, she is meticulous in phrasing and tone, but can release a flat-footed gospel wail too. There is a gutsy exuberance to the way she performs, often improvising with her band and stomping on her keys with frenzied passion.  A standing ovation thoroughly deserved.

(As an aside, the impromptu performance by singer Phebe Edwards, invited on stage by Sunshine for a brief gospel interlude, was a wonderful moment of musical spontaneity. Maybe she will be headlining her own show at Hideaway some day?)

(Image taken from Hideaway website with permission)