![]() ![]() ![]() Accompanied by a keyboardist adept in soul/funk/gospel licks, and heavy programmed beats, Kabeaushé delivered a truly extraordinary melange that managed to fuse pop, punk, trap, disco, Prince, Outkast and a ton more besides with 10,000 watt charisma and a beatific warmth. But those energy levels truly peaked for a riotous show by Kabeaushé from Kenya ( main picture). Addressing the audience she said she was glad we smell nice given what an up close and intimate show it was, and thanked us for enjoying her “sad, sexy songs”.įriday night energy levels stepped up with an electro-punk set from Lebanon’s Kid Fourteen: an intriguing if deliberately cold figure, whose tweaking beats got a lot more interesting when he started adding saxophone drones. In an unusually stripped down set, she was accompanied only by Gyan (son of Terry) Riley on classical guitar, and it was super sophisticated and super lovely. The New York resident Pakistani’s songs sound devotional, but as she explained with mordant wit, they’re about “getting intoxicated and failing in love”. More consistent was Arooj Aftab, playing in a cool Nordic brutalist bar up the hill. Sometimes it felt like de Elche’s voice was fighting the arrangement, but there were sublime moments in the ebb and flow. The former played glitched samples, classical guitar and a grand piano, while the latter’s keening voice, schooled in Flamenco, rose and fell in the mix. The night was rounded off with vodka in a small basement club where Moroccan DJ Glitter 55 tore it up with some no nonsense grime-inflected rave.įriday evening began in much more considered style with a duo set in a church from Raül Refree and Niño de Elche. ![]() Any English lyrics showed the usual hip hop themes – ambition, betrayal, desire – but it was done with such panache, there’s clearly enormous potential in this act. The trap, drill, Afrobeats and reggaeton of Atlanta, London, Lagos and Panama, joined Middle Eastern / North African influences from their accents and singing style. And they really reminded how global hip hop culture is not only in reach but in influence now. They clearly hadn’t got the memo from UK acts that drill rappers are just supposed to rock up with an MP3 of their latest track, vocals and all, freestyle over it then scoot off – their live set was impeccably produced and paced and their stage presence huge even in balaclavas. A killer start, only marred by kicking myself I’d never sought them out sooner.īut very quickly it was on to the more earthly concerns of Oslo’s premier drill crew T Section ( pictured below with young friend by Lydia Tefera). ![]() And the fact they (or the younger members, at least) packed up their own gear afterwards felt beautifully right: they’re as dedicated to the Hawkwind-style on-the-road life as to sonic cosmic exploration. Nothing can prepare you for the mixture of crazed virtuosity, playfulness and sheer elemental power of this band’s solar flare grooves. Straight off the plane, I barely had time to orient myself by grabbing one of Norway’s greatest creations – a hotdog with shrimp mayonnaise on – before I was plunged into the heart of an exploding star by Japanese psyche rock wizards Acid Mothers Temple ( pictured right by Lars Opstad). Far from it: even in just the three days I was there the culture on offer in venues across Oslo felt more like a trip into a giddy sci-fi vision than the worthy anthropologist’s guide to other cultures that "the w word" often implies. ![]()
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