3 weeks after the release of his long awaited debut album, Yesterday’s Gone, Loyle Carner and co. rolled into Bristol to play the ninth date of his UK tour (the sixth one to sell out).
Motion, the venue. Vibes, the agenda. I arrived just in time to catch some chilled out bars from South London rapper and poet Manik MC, before picking up a couple of disgustingly expensive Vodka Red Bulls (£7.50 each or something) and pushing my way back into the depths of the socially diverse but mainly retro-fila-wearing, UWE crowd for the main event.
Carner emerges from behind his album artwork; a photo of himself nestled amongst his family and friends, to intense ovation from his audience. He stands in the centre of the stage and absorbs what lies before him; one of Loyle Carner’s finest attributes as a human, rather than a musician, is his humility and appreciation of the moments he finds himself in - he seems truly shocked with his success. On stage, an armchair flanks him to his right, and a shelving unit bareing a record collection to his left, behind which lies Rebel Kleff and his decks. The personal nature of Carner’s music is something delicately crafted on record and for live audience, everything has meaning, and whether you understand it or not, it warms the soul.
Starting with his most recent single, The Isle Of Arran, the crowd are nicely settled in the palm of his hand from the offset. He whips through tracks off his album, ‘Mean It In The Morning,’ and ‘Seamstress’ coming in quick succession before asking the crowd if he has permission to perform a poem. Very few people could perform poetry with similar response from an audience with an average 18, but Loyle Carner is one of the people making spoken word cool (alongside, Kate Tempest, George The Poet and others). It’s impressive. Rebel Kleff continues to spin banger after banger as the Motion crowd and I valiantly try to rap along before we’re treated to a replay of Carner’s recent Radio 1 live gig, a reworking of A Tribe Called Quest’s Check The Rhime. Lyrical greatness.
A brief but diverse discography means that where Carner can have people crying one minute (see. BFG) he can have them bouncing the next (see. Ain’t Nothing Changed) and it’s incredible to see. There's as many girls as there are guys, and as much Saltrock as there is Supreme; it's hip-hop accessible like never before. Throughout the night we’re thrown the context before we’re thrown the track, and the same happens before the final song of the night, ‘Sun Of Jean,’ providing depths you never knew, and thoughts that had my mind in deep speculation for hours, if not days.
The best gigs, in my opinion, are the ones where you listen to the music and learn something about it, something you then hear or think about every time you hear it. So if the pleasure of the gig is in the learning, then Loyle Carner is one of the best teachers in the business. Songs are interspersed with the stories behind them, providing intense insight into the messages you often never know. There are hidden depths to his songs left unappreciated by uneducated ears; the chorus and guitar samples on ‘Sun of Jean’ were taken from a self-made solo LP his late father made, Florence was written for his mother who’d always wanted a daughter, imagining life with a little sister. I don’t often get deep at gigs, but this was real. My only criticism, I was left wanting more, but perhaps that’s a good thing. He’ll be everywhere this summer, and I’ll be right there with him. Shout out to Loyle Carner, The Ultimate Storyteller.
4/5