Ghostpoet at The Button Factory | Review

Ghostpoet at The Button Factory, Dublin on Friday 25th of October 2013

You know those days when you can’t believe how cool you are? Your usual awkward, shy Richie Cunningham is replaced by The Fonz, just having stepped out of the freezer, smoking. You give a slight slap to your conversational jukebox and suddenly captivating conversation comes spilling out. You’re Ryan Gosling in Drive, when yesterday you were Ryan Gosling in Lars and the Real Girl. One problem is you don’t know what you’ve done to change it. The other is that the effects are only temporary. It might last the length of a party – if you’re lucky an entire weekend – but, before too long, you’re back to that awkward red-head trying to cope with 1950’s Wisconsin.

But even in your most Fonz-ish of moods, you are only a pretender to the throne. Ghostpoet (or Obaro Ejimiwe as the tax man knows him) will always be there to put you back in your place. At least that is the impression he gives on stage in the Button Factory. He saunters onstage, greeted by a half-full venue, silhouetted by red light wearing immaculately fitting clothes and hipster glasses. He, ably supported by his three-piece backing band, lays down his distinctive electronic beats for opener Gaaasp.

His lyrics – or, as his name suggest, poetry – come through that intersection between spoken word, rap and singing. Leaning on his right hip, he holds the mic in his left hand and gesticulates nothing in particular with his right. He almost make you want to hate him, until he displays how humble he is. He’s like The xx gone urban without any of the cold distance they provide.

“It’s a bank holiday this week, yeah?” he asks, obviously having done his research. “I see why you’re happy now.” The audience bob along – somewhere between nodding and dancing – as he flows through songs from his Mercury nominated ‘Peanut Butter Blues & Melancholy Jam’ and this year’s ‘Some Say I So I Say Light’.

He keeps on telling the audience that he’s here for a party. It’s a different sort of party though. It’s not the sort that’s one part shots, one part throwing up in the back garden and one part riding in the toilets. It’s the sort of party where you drink wine, exchange Spotify playlists and then jump around to ’90s R’n’B because you don’t care if people know you’re having a good time. It’s the surgeon’s approach to a Friday night rather than the juggernaut’s.

“You guys are deadly,” he shouts at one point, showing his knowledge of Dublin-isms.

The songs shouldn’t be taken out of the equation either. Survive It could be an anthem for modern Ireland, while Comatose gets the crowd rocking later on. Everything song is recreated perfectly, the sign of a band very tight at the end of a tour. Cash and Carry Me Home gets the crowd to drop their restraint slightly and the Button Factory starts to hop. Ghostpoet leaves the stage for the briefest of false finishes before returning to play MSI MUSMID.

As the night closes, the band exit the rear of the stage but Ejimiwe, Ghostpoet himself, stays to bask in the adulation he is receiving. He steps down from the stage into the crowd. There is almost a scrum as half the audience try to meet the man; to bask in his effortless cool. On a performance like this, it’s impossible not to love the man. He truly brings the happy days.