Say what you will about Banksy’s divisive miseryfest Dismaland, at least one thing’s for sure… the anonymous vandal has some cracking music taste.
Banksy has persuaded a collection of phenomenal music guests to perform on a weekly basis in the most unlikely of settings during September: Weston-Super-Mare’s derelict Tropicana Centre. Part abandoned lido, part hepatitis breeding lab, now anti-capitalist art project.
Massive Attack, Pussy Riot, Sleaford Mods and Kate Tempest will all make a future appearance at the park, each one picked for their social conscience as much as their reputation for a ferocious live show. I also imagine each artist’s fee has been substituted for a chance to see whether or not Banksy is in fact Neil Buchanan with a wig and a terrible Bristol accent.
However no artist (including Banksy him/her/themselves) has the contemporary political climate quite so acutely aligned in their sights as Run the Jewels, the hip-hop project from Killer Mike and El-P that, although only two years old, has managed to produce two of the most vital, thrilling and face-meltingly entertaining albums of the last couple of years.
On a tiny stage situated in the far corner of the park, Run the Jewels get to hold a very intimate court at the refreshingly crowd-conscious Dismaland. After a summer tour taking in venues and festivals with barriers far removed from the stage, it’s a pleasure to see their hyper-kinetic dynamic up close, and no one is more grateful for this then the humbled pair on stage.
It’s been a long time since such a successful band has been so sincere in their gratitude to their fans. It comes from a centre of genuine, big-hearted glee and Run the Jewels more than deserve our affection in return. Every track tonight hits the ground running with breathless invention and concision, ripping through the crowd with not a single dull moment. Run the Jewels don’t believe in filler or self-indulgent skits. They just deliver powerful messages using a dexterous flow that never drops a syllable, and rides a thick rhythm of chest-pounding beats.
My favourite moments come from the friendly interplay between Killer Mike and El-P. Whether giving each other a sartorial spot-check (Yankees cap on straight? Yep), to El-P asking the front-row to tone down the cigarette smoking for the benefit of Killer Mike’s asthma, to the onstage embraces that seem to say “holy fuck I can’t believe this is happening to us”, you can feel the mutual love emanating from these two long-time friends and it’s a contagious feeling. Never have I felt so elated after coming home from a gig.
The night culminates in an exhilarating and heartbreaking rendition of ‘A Christmas Fucking Miracle’, a gorgeous, atmospheric cry for self-belief, integrity and love in the face of rampant commercialism. As El-P states during one of his many deeply sincere and often hilarious speeches, we were all handed invisible 36” gold chains when we walked into Dismaland tonight and it’s these that will hep us defy the corrupt elite that pull the strings in this world. If there’s one lesson that you should take away from both the exhibition and Run the Jewels themselves, it’s that you shouldn’t let the fuckboys grind you down.
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