Live Review: Benjamin Clementine @ Dunstan Playhouse 15/10/26

"I want the artist to take me somewhere," Benjamin Clementine to Craig McLean, The Standard, 30/11/2017.

This quotation from the Mercury Prize-winning musician, poet, songwriter, actor and model Benjamin Clementine may have subconsciously, perhaps unconsciously, become his guiding light for his Australian debut.

Where did he want to take Adelaide? Conceivably, only he would know. Would it be an emotionally charged and turbulent journey? Could it be light and playful? Might it possibly be dramatic and theatrical? It may even venture back to his teen years busking in France and sleeping in kitchens.

Astonishingly, these are just some of the charismatic characteristics of Mr Clementine and barely an introduction to his remarkable life story. However, where Clementine took Adelaide as an awe-striking artist was unexpected and monumental.

The Dunstan Playhouse's stage was fascinatingly bright, with lily-white textures glistening from the platform's curtains, floor, and even the grand piano, which also featured a counteractive pitch-dark richness on the instrument's lid. Whether this represented "the glow" in contrast with "the gloom" of Clementine's musical expedition he was about to prodigiously pilot Adelaide through, or if this visual motif portrayed a likeness to the keys on the keyboard instrument itself, is relatively unknown.

Essentially, this was of no real consequence, because the exhibition was not directed at just one of our human senses. This demonstration was designed to enlighten and mystify the spectators on multiple dimensions.

When the venue darkened, a solitary luminous spotlight shone upon the microphone, piano housing and the artist bench in an excitedly eerie and unnerving radiance. Benjamin Clementine eventually prowled barefoot towards the eminent instrument timidly, acknowledging his audience and their resounding applause, then took his place without a word.

Silence…

"I swear that you've seen me…" Clementine's soulful croon entrancingly emanated from his body and spirit, fantastically fusing the grit of Nick Cave and Manuel Gagneux simultaneously, but with an angelic divinity harmoniously balancing the shadowy aura. The track was 'Condolence', and it was instantly breathtaking.

At times Clementine would impossibly play the keys with one hand while serenading in transfixing tones and enacting hypnotic dance-like movements with his other hand in a form of spellcasting. When he smiled, it seemed like the world smiled with him, even if it was to hide pain.

Adelaide was being taken somewhere magical.

'Cornerstone' channelled Nina Simone with a delightful decoration of Elton John so elegantly that time and place somehow vanished. And as the scintillating songwriter charmingly chanted: "It's my home, home, home, home, home, home, home, home," movingly effortlessly from howls to whispers, this was quite possibly the "somewhere" that Clementine was taking Adelaide towards, very gratefully.

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It was at this juncture that the real Clementine began to shine through with hilarious anecdotes about people moving around and that "Australia feels like I've come back to England – only joking." His sunglasses then came off, and the rest of the stage was illuminated vividly, showcasing the true elegance of the artist Australia had only read and heard about.

'London' was a bedazzlement of R&B with classical orchestration and boundless dynamism. 'Adios' featured a fusion of symphonic jazz and dramatic aggression that wondrously progressed into angelic opera – perplexing? Absolutely. Transcendent? Beyond comprehension, and entirely mesmerising to the level of Luck Mevril's 'Les sans-papiers'.

"Thank you, people of Adelaide, you are quite posh. You say 'charnce' not 'chaannts',” Clementine exclaimed comically. After a brief discussion of our accents and his discovery that our city was named after Queen Adelaide, Ben only had one possible response: "Well, I should continue…"

'Rudy Rockingberg' inspired an entire venue choir sing-along, with 25 staggering versions of the poetic message "Nothing is final. Everything's gonna be fine" in a bewildering coalescing of beautiful musical symmetry. Truthfully, this could have been the conclusion, especially with the eruption of applause and cheers from the capacity crowd, but instead…

"I think we got the point, thank you," Benjamin hilariously quipped.

'Nemesis' was an artistic odyssey of melancholy and magnificence all at once. With hums, growls and virtuous anthemic rhapsody, it was electrifying in its cinematic splendour. Then, Benjamin Clementine departed.

A standing ovation brought the enigmatic artist back hastily for an encore, or more so, chapter two.

'Atonement' was a tantalising track which Quentin Tarantino could only dream of including in one of his abstract movie extravaganzas. Better yet, this arrestingly mythical composition would garner Academy Award interest if used in film flawlessly.

A humorous improvised song about spicy food, beer, drugs, Strongbow and requiring the loo showcased Clementine's wit in a brilliantly brash fashion. The performance then elevated into another phenomenal artistic echelon with 'Nicholas Nepolitano', a captivating soundscape combination of Bob Dylan's 'Ballad Of A Thin Man' with a glorious Tim Burton soundtrack.

Then, silence…

Clementine went on to discuss his journey here, how he was afraid of flying, his disbelief that Uluru and Alice Springs were somehow near each other, his previous loves and life escapades and that he will come back.

His closing testimony was to be 'Winston Churchill's Boy', a powerfully poetic movement embracing hip hop, luscious lullabying, thrilling theatre, storytelling and soulful majesty.

"I want the artist to take me somewhere."

Benjamin Clementine, you took Adelaide everywhere it wanted and needed to be.