After I being swept away by Ghostpoet at Reading Festival in August, there was no question I'd have to go to Manchester next time he was playing. Before the performance, he Tweeted that he was feeling ill, and then that he'd had a bad day; I wondered if this gig could possibly live up to that previous experience. I'm happy to report that any concern was misplaced. After a run of gentle and seated folk performances this month, the audience interaction in this small venue restored my faith in the power of live music to lift the weary soul. First though, Jaedia proved to be a more than credible opener. This young band from Halifax, previously called Tibetan Youth, has been compared to Wild Beasts, and blended electronics, guitar, and atmospheric vocals.
Obaro Ejimiwe's first album gained him a Mercury Prize nomination, and propelled him from a 9 to 5 job with an insurance company in Norwich to the life of a professional musician. Some Say I So I Say Light, released in May 2013, maintains a continuity of style with his debut, and has also earned much critical acclaim. Yet, Ghostpoet is an artist whom you simply must see live. His music is a mixture of lo-fi pop, electronica, dub-step and even industrial: it's not immediately the most accessible listened to in isolation. He stresses that he is not a rapper: he doesn't use rhyme strictly, and his low pitched voice sounds halfway between the spoken word of an MC and the melodic line of a singer.
Critical opinion has made much of the eerie tone of the music, The Guardian talking of songs set early in the morning, dream walking through quietly narrowish scenarios. Many of the songs are downtempo and anxious, yet they are always mellow rather than aggressive. My strongest memory of this gig is the sheer joy of moments such as Meltdown and Dial Tones, with female vocal backing, and the irrepressible energy of the guitar led Plastic Bag Brain. There was only brief narration between songs, but still an incredible and tolerant warmth from stage. Ghostpoet kept urging the audience to party, and his dancing and energy on stage was infectious. It's no coincidence that he asked us to applause ourselves at the end, and he possesses that elusive ability to make the crowed feel loved, and special.
The audience wasn't reverential though: in some of the lower key numbers, there was chatter, but overall Ghostpoet overcame the challenge of presenting electronic music live. The band was key to this success: he was backed by a live acoustic drummer, keyboardist and a sampler / guitar player, blending acoustic and electronic sounds in unexpected juxtapositions. The lyrics are surprisingly mundane: he speaks honestly of the monotony of everyday life, speaking in metaphors. The subject matter may appear prosaic, but the intensity of the live performance is striking: it really was an immerse experience, aided by a moody lighting set-up and that dancing.
Ghostpoet's music is inclusive, crossing cultural and stylistic boundaries, yet he has the confidence to challenge the audience rather than simply to seek to be liked by everyone. He explained recently: 'No-one’s told me how to make any of my music, it’s very much me just trying to be creative. I don’t know, I just feel I can do anything I want to do'. His sincerity is clear: he understands social media as a means of connecting with fans personally, and is diligent and kind in responding to them. Yet the act isn't about his personality, but the drama and life enhancing energy of the music. I'm really excited to see how Ghostpoet's imagination develops: I doubt it will be predictable. In the mean time, I'd strongly recommend that you check his live schedule so you too can experience this hypnotic joy.
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