Kae Tempest opens hearts for Open Season

Photograph: Clare Shilland (The Guardian)

When you’re a teenager obsessed with writing there are certain artists you stumble across that make an insurmountable impact on you. When I was 16, first discovering political activism, my own queer identity and the beauty of lyrical rhythm, I uncovered Kae Tempest - who immediately became one such pivotally impactful artist for me. 

I remember watching 'People’s Faces' at my high school desk and feeling the gravity shift underneath me, as someone had managed to capture exactly the melancholic exquisite ache that exists in the experience of being a human. It was this that inspired me to begin writing my own spoken word.

I would spend hours watching and re-watching entire hour-long performances of Kae's work - scribbling notes in my project journal and poring over his masterful techniques with my English tutors. I soaked it all in hungrily; from the spoken rhythm to the depth of audience connection, and the way he managed to perfectly capture the intangible biggest feelings hidden in the tiniest aspects of life. This was such a fundamental creative time period for me, and I deeply believe Kae’s stylistic elements have evolved their essence into the songs I write now, and the messages I’m eternally trying to encapsulate as an artist. 

After witnessing his work at this age, I remember writing and performing spoken word poems in front of a crowd of impassioned teens at the School Strikes for Climate. I recall vividly feeling I had never felt quite so close to myself - it’s an experience I still hold today as one of my most proud moments. It’s this very feeling that Kae Tempest inspires.

So 10 years later - witnessing Kae Tempest in his beautifully humble yet incredibly inspiring live state at the Princess Theatre for Open Season was such a deeply special experience for me. 

The first thing I was struck by was the energy of the audience - looking around, it felt like I was standing in a crowd of my favourite queer English teachers and their favourite English students, all grown up years later. (In fact, there was one girl standing beside me up against the barricade who I overheard mentioning she was quite literally here with her teacher!)

There was such an open supportive feeling in the crowd, not only toward Kae but toward each other - exchanging respectful space and warm smiles with strangers. You could feel that Kae had created a space where everyone felt comfortable to unmask, be exactly who they are, queer and comfortable. Headphones were on, fashion was expressive, hands were dancing and smiles were wide - we all let go. I felt safe, relaxed down to my cells.

The second Kae walked out onstage, he met us with such a humble, warm grace and a hand on his heart - immediately thanking us for our presence and the journeys we had taken to be together that night. It was like we had been welcomed around for a warm cup of tea or soup, unified. 

He declared he was, "Going to go to a place," onstage, and welcomed us on the journey - which we all leapt onboard with collective enthusiasm. 

From the moment the music began we were ascending. Far out it was phenomenal. Explosive. The words flowed like running water over rocks, taking us along every single stage of the voyage. I knew I adored the words, but I was pleasantly surprised to be swept along in the movement and the groove of it all too, letting my body loosen to the beat and pulse of the synths. 

It was only Kae and his backing singer/synths player Pops Roberts onstage, but the space felt far from empty and there was a palpable musical chemistry between the two. The backing vocalist was performing insane vocal runs and complex rhythms on the synths. There was such mutual respect between the two, and the way Kae would stand behind Pops during their soloing moments really honoured their musical contributions.

In between the tracks there were beats of silence, in which Kae would speak directly to us:

"I see you,"

He spoke outwardly in one such moment, taking a pause to take it all in and look directly out to all of our faces. I felt seen, we all did in that crowd, in that space, in that moment. 

Kae’s words are laced with empathy. He speaks for the people; on injustice, children’s lives, immigrants, neurodivergence, his own trans journey. He faces it all, looks the pain in the eyes, sits with us in the discomfort, the anger and the wrong, and somehow every time finds a place of hope. We are left feeling alive and uplifted.

Watching 'People's Faces' live was everything to me, a true core memory. I wrapped my arms around my shoulders and was brought to tears. As Kae looked me in the eyes and smiled, I felt so deeply held as that little teenager untangling her understanding of the world and creativity. This song in particular welcomed a vast silence of listening that filled The Princess Theatre like an embrace. 

'Firesmoke' was another standout for me, a work I had forgotten that I discovered and relished as a teen uncovering my own queer identity. The words are like molten lava, I don’t think I have ever heard desire and closeness described so absolutely eloquently and intimately.

'Diagnoses' and 'Statue in the Square' spoke straight to the queer and neurodivergent communities, italicising that deep sense of belonging in the crowd. And across the setlist there was a beautiful narrative of Kae’s own trans self discovery.

I felt a cathartic climax of the set in 'More Pressure'. Kae stood hand on heart and looked at us all, before stretching arms wide and looking to the sky as he said "Let me let go." So we all did. We could all feel it. There was just so much gratitude and honesty emanating from the stage. 

The set finished with 'Freedom', in which we were welcomed in with a sing-along:

"All we have to do now is take these lies and make them true

All we have to see

Is that I don’t belong to you

And you don’t belong to me

Freedom 

You’ve got to give what you take"

Honestly the entire experience felt spiritual - something akin to a queer church of self discovery, humanity and understanding.

Kae finished the performance by looking out at us all once more, and as we shared the moment together, he landed the all-encompassing message,

"All I’ve got to say is love." 

He reminded us we’re all looking for meaning, before his final reminder,

"You never know what someone else is going through."

I felt this in my chest, as this quote holds immense weight to me and the way I view the world. I’ve actually had a very similar variation of it on my bedside wall since childhood. It felt like such a perfect way to encapsulate the empathy and deep universal care for humanity entrenched in Kae’s work, and the entire experience of the night.

Now there was this one particular girl against the barricade (the same girl I mentioned earlier) who knew EVERY word. It was beautiful to witness. You could see Kae deeply moved by it, singing every word straight to her. In particular, the connection between the two in a song about loss in which the hook was "At least they are not suffering anymore," was truly moving to watch. Standing beside this girl in the crowd and watching this connection throughout was one of my favourite parts of the entire show.

Kae took a moment after the performance to honour this by coming down to the barricade to give her the setlist, explaining to this girl "You made something happen for me. I want to say thank you for everything you did just then. It’s so crazy you know all the words."

They embraced with warmth and then the girl, absolutely ecstatic, went to find her aforementioned English teacher - which just felt so absolutely delightfully fitting of the night. The energy after the show was just so beautiful. Everyone felt open, hugging one another, talking to strangers and sharing that the collective joy in the crowd was truly so part of what made this night so special.

People watching afterwards was genuinely one of my favourite parts of the whole night. My eyes felt wider. My appreciation for the world and care for strangers felt deeper. My best friend and I walked to the car in comfortable silence, glowing, smiling, taking the world in. 

We overheard in delight a girl explaining to some men outside the theatre "I think it’s important for you guys to go into these spaces." (Preach girl.) We watched strangers embrace each other, and share little shoulder squeezes and waves as they exclaimed "Love you!" and "Bye, take care" on their ways home. We watched couples holding hands and running across the road, and through it all were just overcome with how beautiful people are living their little lives, in all their humanity!

We concluded together that so much of Kae Tempest is appreciating the world and the people around you. Seeing the world softer. Noticing all the love that was there anyway. We couldn’t stop smiling, and just felt so deeply enriched.

That's truly the height of it all for me - I left feeling so incredibly inspired. My younger self felt alive, seen, and held - understood. My present self felt reminded of all the deepest, simplest magic in resilience, empathy and humanity. I felt ignited by the power of creativity in facing, embracing and expressing all the light, dark and in-betweens of the human existence, and the joy of finding connection in feeling it all.

I left The Princess Theatre feeling hopeful, uplifted and so f*cking ready to make some art. Seeing Kae Tempest for Open Season really did mean the world to all past, present and future versions of me, and is undoubtedly one of those shows I will be eternally grateful to have experienced.