Make no bones about it, Michael Kiwanuka is one hell of a talented fella, his 'Love and Hate' being certainly my album of last year. Even this bunch of motley curmudgeons agreed with me, well, to a point, give or take a a death or 3. And it's one that had me running into the house, on first listen in the car. "Listen to this", I gasped, "just listen!" So we did. Again and again and again.
"When's he on tour?", she said.
So here we are in London, lording it up in the choir seats at the Royal Albert Hall, using the excuse to spend a few days in Greenwich around the gig.
Support band Clean Cut Kid were on first, seemingly a next big thing, with their well-reviewed album released the very same day of this show, so they were celebrating. Uncertain whether they were gifted with traditional support band muddy sound, because it was, or whether the songs were just dull, I am afraid we were drinking wine in the bar after 3 songs. (Singer has a fabulous beard tho'.)
Choir seats are a thing. I hadn't realised on booking that these were behind the stage, more fool me, but I would choose them again, certainly compared to previous RAH experiences, way up in the gods and higher. Excellent view, albeit of the back of the band, but great for a nerd like me, the keyboard and drums being in prime sight. Even watching the set-up was a delight, working out what and who would be where. Backing singers stage? Tick. String section? Tick. 5 keyboards forming 3 sides of a square? Tick. 2 drum kits, one conventional, one the full bongos plus set-up. Tick again. Excitement and anticipation building bigtime.
No secret how the show starts, youtube and similar have given that game away long ago, that mattering little. This was real and we were here. So it was houselights down, stage lights still down, the slow build of keyboards gradually swelling in the darkness. The string section joined in and then, a cheer announcing a silhouette being handed his guitar, for it was Michael, the Gilmouresque opening motif raising further cheers. I was, of course, weeping, by now. Step by step, band member by band member, instrument by instrument joined in, and it was utterly rapturous. Cold Little Heart.
A set mainly derived from Love and Hate, with only a couple of songs from 2012's 'Home Again', everything went from strength to strength, totally denying his naysayers. "All gets a bit boring after first 3 tracks......" Utter bollocks. Indeed, those earlier songs showed their core strengths of composition, with the allowances of the more acute interpretation this band could offer against the worthy but dull recorded versions. An early highlight was 'Black Man in a White World', which made perhaps more sense than on the record, benefitting from an extended work out, showcasing the excellence of the dual drum section. With perhaps maybe only a smattering of black faces in the audience, the lyric was never more apt, for reasons I don't fully understand. How can a singer of such soul have such a bleached demographic?
Another highlight was a cover: the Avett Brothers' 'I'm Getting Ready'. Featuring just Kiwanuka on acoustic guitar and his bassist, this was a revelation. Already known for his recorded covers of Townes Van Zandt, this exemplified the folk and country hues on his palette, minding me of Richie Havens. Indeed, Havens seems far more potent a reference than the more frequent comparisons with Marvin Gaye, especially if you factor in the undoubted guitar competencies. Back to the full band, and the songs kept coming, with concern as to what could possibly left in reserve. All to soon and it was the final song, 'Fathers Child', also benefitting from a drawn out fade, musician by musician leaving the stage, until (I think) Paul Butler was, as the show began, alone over his keyboards, the plaintive electric piano motif on repeat , slower and slower, until the inevitable pin drop.
Of course there was an encore, a respectable delay belying the certainty, the title track of his first
album segueing into the title track of his second, the sudden realisation that this had not yet been played, so superlative already were those that had. The repeated chorale vocals went on forever, a high amongst highs. Perfection, countered by apology for knowing no further material. Nonsense, this was exactly enough. Little over an hour, plus encores but we were satiated.
He's playing Symphony Hall, Birmingham, in October. There aren't many tickets left. I know, because I bought a couple on Friday night, at midnight.
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