Kate Tempest
Arriving at 7:45 to a three quarters full Waterfront on a foggy and freezing winter Monday can only be seen as good sign; those gathered were from all walks and ages and were buzzing in advance, all items on my checklist of potential special nights. The failure to see Kate when she blew up the room with love at the Norwich Arts Centre still haunts me, so I had high hopes for being part of a happening, an experience.
Support were Boxed In, a band who I had heard a few times on 6 Music and seemed a strange fit considering the crowd were waiting for a performance poet, but they came out strongly with their take on early eighties dub funk and high tempo indie dance. Shack Up by A Certain Ratio meets Mylo’s Pressure would be a good comparison. Extremely tight, fully formed tunes and occupying a place musically that seems empty of competitors, I was impressed and surprised that I knew less about them. They have a good presence and I would be happy to see them headlining a smaller venue, and getting seen on this tour will only grow the audience for future shows.
Kate Tempest emerged to cheers and whoops - she’s tiny with tousled locks and a winning smile. Charismatic and sincere, she ended a preamble with a request for no phones held aloft which roused a cheer from all. She announced that her latest album Let Them Eat Chaos would be played in full, and while that could sound formulaic, memorising a million syllables a minute all delivered in street Shakespearean meter would trouble Eminem as much as it would Cate Blanchett.
The concept is a street in London at 4:18 am where seven people lay awake, all with their own demons, but sharing a common malady, that we are no longer joined to those around us and feel disconnected from events and society through a lack of empathy and love. A deeply powerful message that so badly needs spreading that my heart almost burst with every vignette. Kate has a perfect style and voice for performance poetry, and every scene is set with articulate precision and clarity. As issues developed and each dark portrait reached a peak, the bass and drums kicked in, strobes distorted our vision and the bars started spitting at an alarming rate. At some points I realised I wasn’t breathing as she hadn’t been either, long urgent lines of incredible flow delivered with punishing sympathy, holding our faces to the souls of those in her songs. The depth of the bass was overwhelming and relentless at times - imagine being locked in a boiler room with Leftfield and the most breathtakingly eloquent MC and you’ll be getting there.
Her words are a call to empathy, kindness and love; in many ways December is an ideal time to engage with what amounts to British society being shown A Christmas Carol for our age. Her humour, empathy and appreciation of the vital elements of humanity all speak of a brave soul, fired up with purpose and enriched with her vocabulary and life experience. Watching Kate Tempest made me feel alive, radicalised and more prepared to engage with politics and injustice than ever. Where have all the protest singers gone is a common complaint, but go experience one of Kate's shows and you will see one of the world's finest exponents of social commentary and documentary. She’s furious at the status quo, and verbally acrobatic, wrapped up in electronic dub beats with a bass juddering so low and heavy you’d believe the floor was about to crack in two.
We got just one song in the encore, a previously unheard piano-led piece called People’s Faces, a more personal and intimate song about gaining strength through knowing others are thinking like you, a message that underlined the concept album’s themes.
Wow, a truly life affirming event, so the sooner we ditch the selfies and start paying attention to each other through a true connection, maybe anything is possible.
