Review: Ghostpoet, Spiegeltent

Christmas is at its most decadent when enjoyed at the Spiegeltent. Now considered an institution in Bristol’s festive calendar, this luxurious venue, all mirrors and bevelled glass, hosts weeks of performances by artists who would ordinarily play to much, much larger crowds. And lo, the luminous star that is double-Mercury-nominated artist Ghostpoet appears to us tonight.

Music critic Alexis Petridis likened a performance by Ghostpoet to “An insomniac muttering to himself in the dead of night against what you might loosely describe as a stark monochromatic alt-rock.” And I couldn’t disagree. The alt-rock direction of last year’s “Shedding Skin” is downbeat and dark, but extremely powerful. His focused lyricism is thoughtful and compelling. The choreographed synergy of Massive Attack’s Daddy G appearing on the bill later in the night with a DJ set makes perfect sense when you hear the hints of old school trip hop oozing through Obaro Ejimiwe’s set, occasionally channelling the spirit of Tricky Kid from his Karmacoma era.

There is something impressively restless and urgent about Ghostpoet’s artistic path. A self-confessed “massive Radiohead fan,” there is no doubt the Oxford art-rockers have had an impact on Obaro’s new direction; the early minimalist electronica of 2011’s Peanut Butter Blues & Melancholy giving way to an eerie, abstract yet gritty formula. Foggy but direct, metronome-precise but off-kilter and glitchy.

Boasting a conventional stage lineup (vox, guitar, bass, drums, keys), the band perform a healthy mix of tracks from all three Ghostpoet albums. Kicking off with Better not Butter, through X Marks the Spot, and Survive It, the entire set channels that Bristol sound. The sense of loss when That Ring Down the Drain Kind of Feeling is performed is made all the more poignant by the powerful female backing vocals of the keyboard player.

The set never veers from its insistent beat as Obaro delivers track after track of urban soundscape. This is city music; dark corners, street lamps and stuttering traffic. The band works hard to ensure The Pleasure in Pleather, Garden Path and Yes, I Helped You Pack are all carefully presented with an impressively deft exactness.  Ghostpoet completes his set with the jazz-inflected wish for escape of Off Peak Dreams and the upbeat populist classic from his first album, Liiines.

A superlative performance from each band member delivers a set that is a careful balance of soul and sorrow, of redemption and self-loathing, of gleeful optimism and impending doom. Few artists have the ability to churn their audience through the entire spectrum of emotions in an hour, but Ghostpoet does just this. And although the experience can be emotionally draining, the alchemy he works on you is the stuff of magic. And who doesn’t want a smattering of magic in Christmas week?