Reviewed on Thursday January 21 (photo by Jamie Williams)
The Sydney storm was welcome in its way, but clearly caught many audience members off guard. It was a sodden crowd packed into the Magic Mirrors Spiegeltent, which may account somewhat for the time it took folk to truly warm into Kate Tempest’s set (and honest to God, I’ve only now made the connection between the name on the marquee and the wild weather outside). It was a diverse crowd, with many a white mane in attendance – making one wonder how many Sydney Writers’ Festival pundits were here, still enamoured by Tempest’s outstanding spoken-word performances back in 2013 – and you couldn’t help but note the odd formality of those who may have been anticipating something closer to a recitation than the beat-driven lyricism on offer.
For while Tempest’s lyrics remain the star attraction here (that and her utterly unnatural talent for recalling such vast reams of verse in the first place), her Sydney Festival appearances are a very different beast. Accompanied by Claire Uchima on synth (doppelgänger to House Of Cards’ Molly Parker) and Kwake Bass on electro-drum fusion, this was soul-searing hip hop at its occasional finest. Occasional, since in a gig spanning 75 minutes a good portion of these celebrated lyrics were lost in beats that were well-crafted, but overbearing.
Tempest’s words can flow like a river, and while there’s a pleasure to be had in simply standing there and letting these currents wash against you – isolating the odd phrase or word, making connections between characters and vibrant, earnest imagery – after a while you start longing for clarity. ‘Lonely Daze’ and ‘Circles’ were both strong, though ‘Bad Place For A Good Time’ was the band’s stand-out. Even then, Tempest’s delivery was largely lost in this admittedly evocative soundscape.
Perhaps acknowledging this, Tempest often breaks from her band and performs a capella, and it was here the South London poet was most arresting. That may arguably say more of my own listening preferences, but these moments sans music seemed to most captivate the crowd as well. Though the show was in no way short of riveting moments, the blistering pinnacle was her closing poem, ‘Europe Is Lost’. With no electronic drum effects or synthesised sounds, Tempest had us galvanised.
Tempest’s is a vital voice, in hip hop and spoken-word alike. It is simply that in the latter, she is damned near peerless, and that can’t help but cast a formidable shadow.
