LIVE REPORTS
majid jordan
for clash magazine
Live Report: Majid Jordan - Kentish Town Forum
Toronto duo bring a neon-lit jam session to London...
09 · 03 · 2018
“London, thank you for the best show of our tour, and I mean that from the bottom of my heart,” singer Majid Al Maskati declares a few times throughout the set. A grandiose statement, oft utilised by acts wanting to sate the crowd’s appetite for endearment in exchange for feedback. Given the packed-to-the-brim venue, the voluble sing-alongs with the crowd and the conviction with which Maskati and producer Jordan Ullman deliver their brand of digital R&B - in a set that clocks in at a very generous 90 minutes – it’s a sentiment that is more than justified.
Clash is present on the sold-out London show of the duo’s ‘The Space Between Tour’, currently on its European Leg. The pair have a symbiotic relationship, showcasing one another’s gifts but thriving as a collective - Majid the vocalist, serenader and hype man, Jordan the production whiz kid and technician.
Jordan arrives first, blue hair and all, the stage set-up at first glance austere. As soon as the first keys were struck, the structure lit up, beaming in synchronicity with the notes, leading into the distortions and sonic distillation of ‘Intro’ from sophomore LP, his interpolations thriving through a Daft Punk-level, audio-visual experience.
The neon illumination proved to be a nifty, multi-purpose backdrop, setting the tenor with each segment of the show. For the more sedate part of the show, which included ‘Decisions’ and the shimmery boudoir ballad ‘You’, the lights would creep slowly from one side to the other, when the set amped up with newer tracks ‘One I Want’ and the infectious Digi-funk of ‘Body Talk’, the neon lights would resemble stars falling. An aesthetic mood board, it coincided nicely alongside Jordan’s retro-futurist production, built on a foundation of 80s synth-pop and techno energy, making it a technicolour reverie for the audience.
The duo progressed with their set, respectful of their earlier material - a narcotic blend of smoky, progressive R&B, crowd favourites such as ‘Small Talk, ‘OG Heartbreak, and ‘My Love’ garnering a substantial back and forth between Majid and the crowd, whom never really relented in their energy. Majid succeeded as the focal point of the act, covering swathes of stage, employing some MJ-level audacity in his moves, ushering the miscellaneous crowd to sway along with him. His voice, although pitched to provide a greater clarity and resonance, took on different shades and auras as the tempo shifted. Some of the nuance in his voice got lost in the ether, at times drowned out by the reverb, but he’d make up for it by employing some Arabic melisma, a nice idiosyncrasy in a set fashioned from referential sounds.
The set mirrored the seamless transitions of their newer record, playing like a continuous mix, only ever intercepted by the duo’s past hits. The newer songs moved away from the darker tints of their previous album, instead painting in an upbeat, sunset tones. This gave Jordan license to veer a bit further off course, employing ambient, Kraftwerk-level synth flourishes and even some Italo-disco, a genuinely thrilling, off-kilter component part of the show.
There is something refreshing about Majid Jordan who exist as an anomaly in a genre that thrives on nihilism and dark debauchery. The duo evade profanity and the excessively crude in favour of a sound that pursues something a bit more enduring. It is radio-ready, but that translates to a universal experience, no more evident than in a live setting. Majid Jordan aren’t particularly laden with whether or not it works, so much as crafting a neon-lit jam session where everyone is invited.
DANIEL CAESAR
for clash magazine
Live Report: Daniel Caesar - KOKO, London
A communion for those who live through young love in a synthetic age...
07 · 02 · 2018
Jesus walks and gospel talks. Born Ashton Simmonds in Ontario, Canada, to a gospel singer Father, religiosity and nuanced devotion imbue his debut offering, ‘Freudian’. Released to universal acclaim back in August, venerated by the Grammys and Barack Obama respectively - selected twice in his ‘Best Songs of 2017’ - Daniel Caesar’s hype train is gathering steady steam, offering up a tender, neo-soul antidote to the harshness of trap-radio homogeneity.
Clash is here on the second of two packed-to-the-brim nights at London’s KOKO, primed for deliverance, and boy does Daniel Caesar deliver. He instils his set with ritual-like piety, the experience of falling in and out of love akin to being consecrated. The set opens with the ‘if you love me, won’t you let me know” gospel refrain of his dazzling ‘Best Part’ duet with H.E.R, flanked by three backing vocalists, the soaring harmonic interplay drawing deafening cheers from the crowd. The stage is dimly-lit, incense burning, draped in Moroccan rugs, as if we’ve been invited to a partake in prayer at his family home. It’s warmly intimate and personal, a communion for the many millennials in the audience who like Caesar relive the peaks and troughs of young love in a synthetic age.
Live, Caesar mirrors the reluctant awkwardness of Frank Ocean, but where Ocean is crippled by an overriding anxiety, Caesar uses his boy-next- door charm (he’s dressed in a tee, tapered trousers and sneakers) to ingratiate the audience to him. Of course his love songs do the bulk of the work, odes to unrequited love that have the girls pining and the guys singing along, but that personable quality is rare, and can’t so easily be replicated. It’s evident by the sing-alongs that Caesar incites, with generous feedback from the audience, that he’s in tune with his performance.
And it’s not all one-note. Caesar and his supporting musicians interpolate the gospel-based chord progression of Kirk Franklin’s ‘Hold Me Down’ with soft-funk and reverby guitar, Caesar’s dreamy reverie brought to life by lush, organic instrumentation. There are nice but subtle ethereal touches, take the synthy gossamer edge of soft-psychedelia on ‘Neu Roses’ that evokes some of Solange’s spectral polemic ‘A Seat At the Table’.
Daniel Caesar is refreshingly unadorned live. His set isn’t clinical and technically clean - the pauses linger, the vocal interplay between the backing vocalists and Caesar could have been even enhanced more. Yet he’s only 22, with room to evolve. Already, Caesar has an understanding of the contours of his voice - the airy falsetto and the softness of his lower register – and an appreciation of the immersive art of live performance, serenading the girls in the front and interacting in a delicate, poised manner throughout.
As the set draws to a close, Caesar repeating the line “coming back home”, the narrative has come full circle, ending on a note of cathartic redemption, the crowd completely and unequivocally at his behest.
james blake
for clash magazine
Live Report: James Blake - Village Underground, London
Electro-soul troubadour returns to London with an eye on the dancefloor…
07 · 07 · 2016
“Thanks for being guinea pigs to this big test...”
James Blake is as self-effacing as ever, further telling the audience packed to the brim with lovers, ex-lovers, stoners and parents, that the ensuing set list would consist of mostly new material. Material taken from his third release ‘The Colour in Anything’, a surprise release that shook the industry earlier this month. Still, Blake cherry picks from an assorted mix of older, more lived-in songs, mostly from his Mercury Prize-winning ‘Overgrown’. Backed by a guitarist and a drummer, simplicity is the key as Blake and his band bounce off each other playfully, each performing dual roles as the synthetic and organic are blurred together.
Blake opens the night with the electronic wizardry of ‘Life Round Here’, a fitting opener as the gig serves as a homecoming of sorts, London the biggest influencer on Blake’s blend of after-dark R&B and downtempo electronics. The choice of venue is Shoreditch’s Village Underground, a dilapidated warehouse converted into a cultural hotspot, Blake this generation’s premier PC producer at home and in perfect synchronicity with the venue’s multi-purpose emphasis on creative art. Blake’s gospel-tinged voice soars throughout the venue, amplified in volume and strength as it hits the very back. It’s a supple voice that Blake loops and contorts with expert ease as is evidenced on new track ‘Radio Silence’, featuring his trademark falsetto.
The set could have solely consisted of Blake’s hybridised, piano-laden slow burners, it’s these songs that have garnered the Goldsmith alumni his legion of lovelorn followers, transcending generations as evidenced from the eclectic crowd Blake performs to. ‘Retrograde’ is met with a warm applause, the track home to Blake’s most confessional lyrics, his live laments piercing and genuinely heartfelt, as is the Frank Ocean-assisted ‘My Willing Heart’, a glacial ballad that receives an equally fervent feedback from the audience.
Yet, club culture is given equal counterpart status, his newer material the perfect paradigm through which Blake’s excels, creating disjointed but sophisticated pieces that evolve and shift gear at exhilarating pace. The middle-section of the set serves as a thrilling, continuous mix of dizzying house, funky and tribal rhythms, Blake succeeding in upping the ante. Kicked off with new LP standout ‘Timeless’, segueing effortlessly into the treated chime of ‘Voyeur’, Blake reclaims his ex-lover’s focus through a looped “her mind was on me” refrain. It’s abundantly clear as the set comes to a crescendo with ‘Modern Soul’, that Blake caters to the soul as well as the body. The pain of heartbreak ever palpable, in that moment you realise no other existing artist is able to occupy the point between desolate electronica and soul quite like Blake.
kelela
for clash magazine
Live Report: Kelela - XOYO, London
Her very own floor show...
17 · 06 · 2015
Upon releasing her 2013 Mixtape ‘Cut 4 Me’, Kelela never truly basked in the glory of the hype train that ensued. Her refreshing take on dismantling 80s and early 90s R&B into trippier, dislocated sounds found a small but vociferous legion of supporters. Since then, Kelela has set her own mellifluous pace, honing her craft in the peripheries and releasing the odd track here and there.
What is evident from her show at XOYO is that her material has found its place in the music ether, the crowd surprisingly receptive to the older mixtape cuts. Opening with signature track ‘Bankhead’, Kelela coos her way through summer bliss, the singer making a statement of intent with the line “I need to let it out”, as if she’s ready to blaze her trail once again. The hazy introduction gives way to ‘Send Me Out’, reworked by frequent collaborator Nguzunguzu, half-way through becoming something more fervent, the crowd lapping up the tempo change, already a highlight in their eyes.
Kelela’s stage at XOYO is one of stark bareness; a DJ and Kelela herself the sole occupants of the small, intimate setting, all smoke and pyrotechnics creating a heady concoction for tracks that ooze an almost sensual pang of angst and tension. It’s this exposure (and full disclosure) that befits Kelela’s electronic experimentation. Initially wary that a more authentic, live sound would supplement her performance, it soon becomes evident that there’s no need for obscuring her vision.
A vision all the more affecting through the clarity and simplicity of Kelela’s voice. It’s not an instant knockout voice, but that’s not the point. Harking back to 90s girl-group harmonies, Kelela’s vocals can be warm and honey-sweet whilst also cutting a bit deeper, take ‘Do It Again’ – revamped into a house-inflected affair, Kelela ushering her lover to keep up the relentless pace. A message she delivers to the audience as well, occasionally reminding them that she wants to see movement, and the audience abides willingly.
While Kelela insisted on distressing a genre of music on her original cuts, favouring loops and distorted synths, it’s all the more impressive that there is an awareness of London’s underground heritage. Reining in the off-kilter approach slightly, what’s left is a set with an underlying, discerning groove, most tracks re-worked into club-ready accessibility. ‘Go All Night’ segues effortlessly into the furious droned-out bass of ‘The High’, the tempo slowing, Kelela cooing in a lower register ripe with tension.
Certainly, Kelela is a multi-faceted show-woman, her stage presence flitting from dainty and distressed to playful and seductive at the drop of a beat. Her performance mode is occasionally peppered with anecdotes, her appreciation for “her second home” not feigned, but entirely earnest, the singer not taking London for granted.
It’s admirable that the theatrics are kept to a minimum in favour of a more honest, vocal showpiece. Not to say that a more pronounced visual injection of her love for glossy electronics would be welcome next time round. The penultimate track of the set is the Arca-produced ‘A Message’, just one of two new tracks performed from the upcoming ‘Hallucinogen’ EP. A definitive highlight, Kelela’s lovelorn despair is on full display, backed by sentient, slow-burn drums, which leaves you wishing more new tracks would have been spilled for a fully-amenable crowd. Still, these are very minor gripes in otherwise consummate version of Kelela’s very own ‘floor show’.
fka twigs
for clash magazine
Live Report: FKA twigs Live at Heaven
A live performer of true gravitas....
04 · 08 · 2014
FKA twigs – real name Tahliah Barnett – is riding the perennial hype train. Teasing her blend of minimal R&B and Massive Attack-like atmospherics through visual EPs and a full-length, she’s due a homecoming having toured extensively around the globe across the last year. Heaven is the choice of venue, and the eagerness with which the crowd await their mythical chanteuse is telling.
Her entrance alone is something to behold. twigs prowls a smoky, dimly lit stage in a racy cat suit, adorned with golden chains as suspenders, snarling and purring at the crowd, almost as if she’s goading her prey. It’s a ballsy statement of intent, beckoning her transformation into a seductive siren on opener ‘Weak Spot’, a song brimming with harsh whispers backed by a relentless trippy backbeat and mechanical clangs.
The first taste of LP material arrives in the form of ‘Lights On’, a highlight featuring an intricate, arabesque dance break. twigs contorts her body like Shakira might, but with more dynamism and urgency, as if her life truly depends on it.
The set list mixes familiar EP tracks and a healthy handful of new offerings, all seamless in their exploration of reverberating bass, snares and snaps. Backed by three male musicians, twigs navigates the stage to off-kilter, cold electronics, daring the audience to look her in the eye. It should be said that she isn’t all about the histrionics. Her confessional lyricism belies a mournful nature that comes with being exposed to another through physical intimacy, never more evident than on ‘Pendulum’, on which she’s wounded by the hands of an ambivalent lover. There is, after all, a human behind the otherworldly aesthetic.
On ‘Hide’ a melodic, down-tempo number, she conveys a surprising emotional punch in her vocal runs, all the more effective against a backdrop of minimal percussion and pronounced space. Throughout the set, Barnett’s vocal flits between Aaliyah’s sugary croons, and Kate Bush’s siren-like operatic trills, possessing assured control and awareness of her own limitations.
Between songs, twigs is modest and almost child-like in her sentiments, a stark contrast to the predatory, overtly-sexual nature of her live alter-ego. Still, a conscious decision to interact less with the crowd means her performance is unremitting and relentless. It’s almost as if she’s been spurned by a lover, and the visual showcase is there for her to prove her sexual prowess against lesser competition.
Take single ‘Two Weeks’, met with a generous applause by the audience, a song that serves as a not-so-subtle parading of her feminine charms in the boudoir. She is clearly unafraid of being a purveyor of sex and ecstasy, closing the night’s proceedings with the hazy, noir-ish ‘How’s That’. By then we’re already convinced FKA twigs possesses true gravitas as a live performer. She’s no one trick pony.