Benjamin Clementine et Olive Jones

Benjamin Clementine is the sort of live performer who gives you goose bumps before he's played a note. He's an imposing figure, tall, handsome, with hair that adds another 4-5 inches to his height. He's welcomed on stage by rapturous applause and breaks straight into the title track of his EP, Condolence. More rapturous applause which he thanks us for, telling us he's "surprised to see you all".
Benjamin seems to not just play songs, he comes to life through them, he lets them carry him to places it's rare to see a live performances go. He sits at the piano on a high bar stool and goes barefoot, as he winds himself into each song you can see this gives him maximum leverage on the instrument. He needs it as his songs seem to literally explode out of him. The last time I saw him live he actually broke the piano but kept playing as it was repaired. No such antics tonight however. His voice has been compared to Nina Simone's but he uses it in more radical ways, taking it up and down the register, fast, slow, high, low it's a wild ride.
The first section of the concert is Clementine and piano, his faltering introductions to each song leave long silences, you could hear a fish fart. We get Curriculum Vitae, he tells he he wrote it when he was job hunting in Paris, unable to speak French, after enduring the distain of a boulangerie owner he had dared ask for work. Often he's playing with one hand and gesturing emphasis with the other, you wouldn't want to cross the guy. All of his songs are more or less biographical and heartfelt doesn't begin to cover it. His ode to the place he grew up, Edmonton, brings forth his tears and ours.
Cellist Bruno Bertoli arrives on stage which actually feels quite alarming because my first thought is "how the hell do you accompany THAT". But soon enough we're into London and I realise he's done this before. The set ends with Adios, a weird and wonderful song made weirder still with a cello lead in that could be from a horror movie sound track. The lyrics stab through the music, the music dies down and Benjamin tells us about his visions of angels and how they sing to him. This surprises no one. Back into the song and too soon it's over. The audience is on it's feet, phones and camera's desperate to capture something of the essence of the evening. He must be running out of material but still manages a two song encore to send us on our way, wishing us a safe journey home. It's endearing and just a little odd because safe is not a word you'd associate with Benjamin Clementine.