Pushing through the bridge-and-tunnel afterwork crowd clad in city regalia, I headed for the gig space tucked at the back of the Strongroom Bar on Curtain Road. Catching my friend, we slipped in as solo support act Shaun Curtis took the stage, delivering a remarkably unfussy set with just an acoustic guitar and sampling keyboard. Dedicated to a recently passed friend, his ambient performance emerged like slow-burning catharsis laced with world-burning lyricism.
His pining falsetto, which bore resemblance to Thom Yorke but filtered through a raw, Scouse inflection, unfurled with surprising tenderness. At times, perhaps, he lost his fragile composure, his voice turning gruff and gasping as if inhaling debris that ricocheted off his vocal cords to make them tremble. He sang of Christ, death and the ether, but curved his voice in such a way that their meanings drifted past like a fading trail of incense from a swinging thurible, reaching for liturgical revelation but not quite landing. I would be interested to hear his lyrics read as poetry.
SHAUN CURTIS, COURTESY OF RAE TAIT
Curtis’ introduction of synthy samples over his acoustic strums uplifted his set, which tumbled towards a quietly experimental coherence, but it was his final piece that had the most conviction. Ambient keyboard loops reminiscent of Brian Eno’s Music for Airports ascended above his folky acoustic lilt, emulsifying with female choral samples to develop a complex, genre-evading soundscape of alt-indie, folk and art pop. Curtis’s performance, at once tender and unflinching, articulated a universal experience of pain and beauty that caught the audience palpably off guard.
Headlining the night was multi-instrumentalist Bastien Keb, supported by his band in a performance that was both compelling and refreshingly unpretentious. Impressively switching between trumpet, vocals and guitar, played with quick, clipped strums, Keb narrated instrumental passages that teased apart genres before deftly latticing them together with technical precision. The band conjured up a mélange of jazz ballads that bled into syncopated hip hop beats, while floaty folk textures were undercut by crisp, funky inflections. Bounding onto stage came an animated saxophonist, injecting a new dimension to the performance by borrowing familiar cadences from the South London jazz scene of artists like Nubya Garcia and Joe Armon-Jones.
BASTIEN KEB ON STAGE, COURTESY OF RAE TAIT
With multiple albums under his belt, including Songs for Lost Travellers, a collaboration with Confucius MC released earlier this year, Keb’s work is defined by his soft, disarming voice that attaches itself to downbeat aural languages of ouroboros loops and percussive beats. It also carried an analogue, unpolished quality, where raw samples meandered in a deliberately loose style, evoking the distinctive sounds of Alfa Mist.
CROWD AT THE STRONGROOM BAR, SHOREDITCH. COURTESY OF RAE TAIT
The performance was a stellar display of originality, free from any noticeable critique. Coupled with his modest stage presence and shy reluctance to make eye contact, he delivered a fantastic show that entirely charmed the audience. In an arid desert of musical unoriginality, Bastien Keb stands as the much-needed oasis.
Feature by Florence Marling
Read Florence’s latest Review: ‘Paradise Lost (Lies Unopened Beside Me)’ – Divine Failures: Ben Duke and Sharif Afifi’s Re-imaginings of Milton’s Epic, Battersea Arts Centre, until 5 April – Abundant Art
Featured Image: Bastein Keb and Bandmates, courtesy Rae TaitBastien Keb tracks and albums The Only Angel I Ever Saw Wore Black | Bastien Keb
