Michael Kiwanuka

It was a long-awaited concert, this Michael Kiwanuka show at the Auditorium. In the most literal sense of the term. Conceived as the supporting tour for his third album "Kiwanuka" from 2019 (winner of the Mercury Prize and a Grammy nominee), it was meant to kick off in January 2020 but was cancelled due to the singer suffering from severe laryngitis, then pushed back to 2021, and postponed once again because of the Covid emergency. But across these two-and-a-half-plus years of waiting, the lad from Muswell Hill, London, lost neither hope nor faith, staying anchored to the certainties of that trio of albums which earned him weighty — if not undeserved — comparisons to soul stars like Bill Withers, Bobby Womack and Marvin Gaye. And so, when he steps onto the Cavea stage at 9:20pm on one of the scorching Roman nights of this absurdly sweltering summer, magic happens instantly. With a sober, vintage stage design that feels very mid-seventies, and an intimate atmosphere that sees Michael clutching the microphone, face buried in his hands, as he sings almost a cappella the melodious, black mantra of "Piano Joint (This Kind Of Love)": “It’s the right time to give in/ The right time to lose/ To begin again/ Maybe win again”. A vibrant performance, barely punctuated by a few piano chords and the counterpoint of the formidable backing singers Emily Holligan and Simone Richards.

He certainly doesn't have the swagger of his soul idols, this thirty-five-year-old British singer-songwriter. If anything, he's painfully shy, wrapped up in his colourful loose shirts and wide Afro-style trousers. He thanks the crowd, says how good it is to be here, to see all our faces, to share the music together. He exudes simplicity, humility, and a disarming candour. Behind him a mirror ball, set at the centre of several concentric rings arranged like a sun, lights up the stage, where the lighting is arranged in a series of arcs that contrast with the smoke in a hypnotic play of reflections.

Guitar in hand, Kiwanuka barrels straight ahead with barely a pause or a moment of hesitation. In quick succession come "One More Night" (from “Love & Hate”, 2016) with its loose-limbed funky gait, "You Ain’t The Problem", simply irresistible with its radiant chorus, its backing vocal hooks and its afrobeat groove straight out of some 70s blaxploitation soundtrack, and the equally relentless (rock and) "Rolling" and "Hero", all scorching riffs, complete with a Hendrix-esque acid coda in which guitarist Michael Jablonka takes centre stage. The band is running at full capacity, with the rhythm section of Alex Bonfanti (bass) and Graham Godfrey (drums) fuelling an inexhaustible groove.

But Kiwanuka knows how to skilfully alternate moods, often breaking the euphoria of the celebration with fainter, more melancholy inflections ("I’ve Been Dazed", "Rule The World", "Hard To Say Goodbye", "Light"), in which the warmth of soul is at times steeped in psychedelic touches too. And while "Final Days", as Michele Corrado pointed out in our review, sounds like “the whitest of the bunch”, with Michael’s voice floating lightly amid field recordings of the crowd and murmuring piano and guitar, the first part of the set closes on an aching note with "Solid Ground", featuring another spine-tingling vocal performance.

More than anything, what strikes you is the timeless quality of these songs, which all feel like instant classics even though they're often no more than three years old. Songs that could have come straight out of the dazzling Seventies, were it not for that patina of absolute modernity already guaranteed on record by the production and arrangements – courtesy of Inflo, the mastermind behind the Sault sound as well as producer for Little Simz, Cleo Sol and some tracks on Adele's “30” – and the contribution of Danger Mouse, who forges refined orchestral architectures in a soul-pop key without ever resorting to cheap shortcuts.

Despite his humility, the Ugandan-born soulsinger seems almost to feel on his shoulders the weight and the pride of the legacy of an entire season of claims and hopes belonging to his people, brought back to the surface even with just a contemporary black anthem like "Black Man In A White World", the lead single from his second album, whose obsessive chorus – with handclaps and orchestra driving the beat – unleashes unstoppable enthusiasm among the packed stands of the Cavea. But it is above all in the sensitivity and fullness of his performances that a musical tradition lives on, one in which simplicity and nobility coexist as if by magic.

Back on stage, Kiwanuka starts out quietly, with the hushed elegy of "Falling", before gradually taking off on the afro choruses of "Living In Denial". It’s the prelude to a simply spectacular one-two punch ahead of the epilogue: first the languid, already-classic "Cold Little Heart" (the unforgettable theme tune of the TV series “Big Little Lies”), performed here in the shortened version rather than the sprawling ten-plus-minute one found on "Love & Hate", and then the very title track of his second record: a long, draining, collective soul liturgy, with the crowd, having by now surged right up to the stage, moved to sing along to that liberating final chorus. Only love and no more hate, for a spine-tingling farewell, sealed by the bare acoustic elegance of the closing "Home Again", the song that gives his debut album its title. As if wanting to bring everything back home, to where it all began, in a constant dialogue between past and present. But right now it’s above all the future that interests us. Because the soul of tomorrow has a name: Michael Kiwanuka.

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