Kele Okereke at The Basement, Sydney
It’s Good Friday and between the closed bars, the heat and the quietness of town, Kele Okereke takes centre stage at Sydney’s soon to be closed venue, The Basement. The room is burning hot and although air-conditioning ducts run rife above our heads, not a single breath of cool air is spared on this sweaty room. Whether it’s the last legs of a venue days from closing saving on cost or a cruel joke on an Englishman, it’s hard to say.
It’s a busy room but not a full one. Completely stripped back and accompanying jazz style seating by candlelight, it’s not like the places I used to sweat to Bloc Party. Instead of the electronic and high-energy sets I’ve seen Kele play solo and with band, tonight is a far more folksy occasion. There’s nothing but a mic and guitar onstage designed to perform a record that perhaps serves as more of a tool for the artist to find himself, rather than any hits. But that’s the thing about legacy, I’ll take the woodsy songs for a taste of real talent on any day, at any temperature.
Kele quietly introduces himself to the room and delicately strums his way through a soulful and moving performance of ‘Streets Been Talkin’’. This type of venue invites the kind of intimacy the music scene hardly sees anymore, especially with someone as famous as Kele. Say what you want about the latter years of Bloc Party, the band single-handedly changed the landscape of electronic music in 2005 with their debut record, Silent Alarm. To be in a room where exchanges take place between the crowd and the artist, as intimate banter weaves stories of song origins along with the artists personal sentiments is very special. Kele elegantly whisks through a Fatherland-focused set mixed with gorgeous covers including one special version of Fleetwood Mac’s ‘Landslide’ and a few favourites
from Trick.
It’s around this time I notice a group of young men huddled together at the edge of the stage embracing and singing every word. You see, Kele was one of the few famous musicians in his era of music to come out as gay man. He was gay, black and one of the biggest names in music. It spoke to a youth used to oppression, even in the beachy Liberal small towns of Australia where I come from. It didn’t matter who this guy was at home, he was Kele and he was one of the best musicians in alternate/electronic music. I am certain his story, his success and his bravery to not be whatever the record labels wanted him to be ignited a kinship with LGBTIQ communities. These men all stood together, moved to tears by the acoustic beauty of their favourite Bloc Party songs, sang in unison and created a choir to ‘This Modern Love’. Filling in only where the single acoustic couldn’t, these men sang as a back-up chorus, duetting with their idol. As the song came to an end, one man broke down in tears. It was truly beautiful to see the emotion we all have for music and what it means to be intimate with your idols in a crowded room.
As the hour-long performance winds up, Kele drops a few hints that we may just be seeing him and his band very soon. Having just announced a leg of European shows playing Silent Alarm in full, it wouldn’t be out of place at say some northern NSW winter music festival now, would it? Kele wraps with a beautiful cover of The Temptations’ ‘My Girl’ however amending rightfully to ‘My Guy’ and a stunning version of ‘Sunday’. Before leaving the stage, Kele made his way to his unofficial back-up singers, thanking them and shaking hands. I think one guy almost died and if you’re reading this my friend, nice harmonies!
Review by Samantha Dickson.
