Live Review: Ghostpoet, Oscar Key Sung

Oscar Key Sung, electro darling and head honcho at Oscar & Martin and Brothers Hand Mirror, is a perfect support for Ghostpoet with his glitchy, quirky beats. The elegant combination of laptop, sampling and looping devices is impressive. He apologises for being low key, but says he wants to make us dance and the front rows are bopping. He carries himself like some musical Basquiat and is so perfectly comfortable in his tech-musical universe that it's like watching him in his living room. Oscar Key Sung's angelic falsetto is beautiful. He thanks us as he sips his tea and the curtains are drawn shut. 

We're interested to see how London MC/producer Ghostpoet (aka Obaro Ejimiwe) will translate his gentle, moody, curiously chilled beats and slurring, abstract poetry into a live format. He arrives onstage – an ominous presence in a huge hooded overcoat. Supported by a three-piece band – keyboard, drums, bass and synths – Ghostpoet operates samples with his right hand. A lot of the offbeat, down-kilter of his latest record is much more energised for the live show. He opens with Gaaasp, a sludgy track from his first record, and moves on to more recent material such Them Waters and Plastic Bag Brain. Compared to the gloomy, woozy version on the record, Meltdown is pretty hype and ups the tempo for a bit before Cold Win brings the monotonous atmosphere back again. His abstract, poetic lyrics are lost in smudgy mic technique and slurry intonation, but there's something else missing. There's a blurry, intelligent, gloomy atmosphere to his records that doesn't translate live. Like Tricky, who makes amazing records but plays terrible live shows, there's a confused sense in how Ghostpoet brings these tracks to life.  Ghostpoet has some pretty interesting material but it feels like he's an artist finding his feet in the live format. Survive It is played almost like a dance track and loses all its bereft, lonely softness. And the odd decision is made to play Cash And Carry Me Home like a club anthem. He admits the band are jetlagged as he fucks up the lyrics to Dial Tones and has to start again. The track loses most of its magic with the absence of Lucy Rose's haunting voice. The keyboard player stands in to supply this vocal part, but it's just not the same. Someone chucks a bra on stage and Ghostpoet doesn't seem fazed by it. 

For an encore, Ghostpoet brings out Finished I Ain't and Us Against Whatever Ever and with these he finally finds his groove.