MONEY SAVING
LonDon-bASeD MC Ghostpoet, known to his mum as obaro ejimiwe, has been likened to Dizzee Rascal on downers. The pair share a grounding in the city’s grime scene but could hardly produce more contrasting hip-hop sounds.
If Dizzee is the ampedup peddler of party tunes, Ghostpoet is the more considered morning-after comedown, offering a mellower vibe throughout his set.
Unlike his rapid-fire peers, he raps with a velvety tone at a steady, sometimes stately and often soothing pace over a tasteful, atmospheric electronica backdrop which draws at times on the hypnotic pulse of drum’n’bass.
Thanks to the warmth created by his live band, there was some common ground with the soulful coffee table trip-hop of
which was spiced with a little of Tricky’s brooding claustrophobia, minus the air of menace.
Although his subject matter drew as much on his inner life as his social circumstances, ejimiwe was too self-assured and affable a presence to allow the mood to dampen or darken too much.
The drowsy DialTones was a little self-regarding, although the audience were nodding along rather than nodding off.
If there was any danger of the latter occurring during the noodlier instrumental interludes, the occasional eruption of crashing chords, keyboard cacophony and mountainous drum rolls provided the wake-up call and the sprung grooves and crunchy synths of the encore even whipped up a bit of dancefloor action. jessie j glasgow hydro HHH SHe’S the R’n’b-pop star imploring us not to worry about the price tag while she rakes in the cash, and telling us nobody’s perfect and to love ourselves while invariably looking like a million bucks and being screamed at by adoring fans everywhere she goes.
but all cynicism aside, Jessie J Cornish’s cheesily wholesome message-laden songs are no unwelcome thing in a world of increasingly dubious female pop role-models (hello Miley Cyrus).
After emerging wearing a pair of flesh-coloured pants that on first glance gave the alarming impression of an epic wardrobe fail, the brit School alumni and former judge on The Voice promptly accelerated through outfits about as quickly as she did the hits, rocking some Laser Light.
Come a Rihanna-fied Do It Like A Dude, she invited everyone to be on their “baddest behaviour” before gyrating in a jumpsuit as flames shot from the stage. If there was something even less subtle than moments like that about Cornish’s show, it was her predilection for a plate glass-shatteringly showy vocal – some of the oTT high notes she scaled during Who You Are threatened to break every window in a five-mile radius.
Freestyle self-help manualquality over-earnestness rained down with the sparks, streamers and glitter throughout a final flourish of Price T ag, Alive and It’s My Party, and surely no one could have left feeling shortchanged.