The wow factor.......
Magical. That's one way to describe Keaton Henson. This fragile troubadour is a spellbinding if reluctant stage presence.
The young Londoner is the antidote to some things that are frankly rubbish in modern day music and performance. Of course, his renowned stage fright is a sweet irony because he and his songs provide a romantic euphoria that gives hope for originality and flushes away the phoney.
On the radio, where I first heard Keaton Henson, you had to turn it right up. You could hear transmission static, even in this digital age, between his wispy verses and the sparse production.
Cynicism can make you question emotional rawness, but in the case of Keaton Henson it's a cynicism soon dispelled. The internet says Henson is 24-years-old, but his words and delivery display the maturity of a middle-aged 19th century poet.
With a reputation for not sticking around too long in a spotlight, the Emmanuel Centre gig is as much about our eyes as our ears. Six rows from the stage, we spy eyes with fears.
It's on the subjects of love and loss that Keaton Henson excels.
One thing you and I know about love is that my broken heart hurts more than yours. This is where Keaton Henson comes in. This seemingly stricken songwriter shares his pains in such a way that we may find collective solace from our individual heartbreak. Keaton Henson carries our weight for a while... all nine-stone-soaking-wet of him.
For about 75 minutes in Westminster, including an encore, Keaton Henson displays musicianship and a soulful-but-brittle vocal. Mostly plucking songs from this year's acclaimed 'Birthdays' album and his debut 'Dear', the audience is silently enthralled.
You could pick any of the verses he sang, but on stage this from ‘Small Hands’ was heart-wrenching for the withdrawn or simply exhausted emotion:
‘Please forget me, you were right dear,
I am cold and self-involved,
And though I'll miss you, recent lover
I am weak and therefore fold.’
From his Brahms-like opening piano performance through about a dozen songs of lost love and death, there's little that's chirpy. Everyone's smiling nonetheless. A string quartet provides the ideal accompaniment for these songs. In all we see and hear, there's something old-beyond-his-years about Keaton Henson. His shared sadness is life-affirming in the way that Leonard Cohen often achieves seemingly effortlessly.
However, Keaton Henson is a bag of nerves. Regardless of the subject matter in his songs, this man cannot fall back on a wedding singer career. (It’d a be a cool wedding though.)
If 'live' is the future, then Keaton Henson is everything a concert promoter could wish for. He has a beguiling rabbit-in-the-headlights presence.
With some artists, live or recorded performances can be quite different. There are many examples. Sound-wise, the live or recorded Keaton Henson isn't hugely different. Still, I'd implore anyone to go and see him.
Perhaps it's a bit wrong or circus-like, but the power of the songs is nourished by the apparent fragility of the individual. It's about seeing Keaton Henson - hearing and seeing. Not like Lady Gaga. It is perhaps like Ryan Adams. Or DM Stith. Or Tori Amos. There's much more when you see and hear some artists.
Henson's obvious reluctance to be on stage only fuels his enigma. Intrigue is heightened; hunched over a guitar, head bowed but with eyes peering up from his seated position, he semi-jokingly admits that he is terrified. The Emmanuel Centre is wowed - as if the venue itself didn't already have enough wow factor.
With the stage shrouded in redness, subtle lighting creates a canopy above the audience that flits between thorns and stars. A near perfect evening is rounded off with a plaintive rendition of 'Always on my Mind'. It's enough to make a grown man cry. Elvis had not left the building. And nobody expected an encore.
The building in this instance is a church of sorts. Churches and the odd library figure strongly in the relatively small number of venues where Henson has performed. And so London continues to surprise - this area between Westminster and Pimlico appears to be a cultural abyss, apart from the bliss that is the original Tate. Inside a rather tame brick exterior is a stunning auditorium that is normally a trans-denominational international place of worship.
Keaton Henson is a shining example of why (in this case, against the odds) live performance has enjoyed a resurgence over the last decade. Some artists have something extra special.
Should an opportunity arise, try not to miss Keaton Henson.
Nigel Watts
