Genesis Owusu Makes the Audience Participants in 360-degree Opera House Show
Image: Photo: Angus Sharpe
So often, as a musician grows into stardom, they succumb to the temptation of fame. This may present in rock star debauchery, luxury clothing, or million-dollar mansions in Hawaii. But most of all – what so often is lost as an artist grows – is an authenticity in their performance. Where once they had to fight tooth and nail for adoration, they will stand limp and characterless before a heaving crowd, assured they will be loved no matter how little effort they put in.
Thus was my absolute delight when two-time ARIA winner and evolving star – Kofi Owusu-Ansah, aka Genesis Owusu – took to the stage at the Opera House last Friday night in a performance of undeniable solidarity to his fans.
Tucked away in ‘The Studio’ – a 600-capacity theatre in the Western Foyer of the iconic building, Owusu-Ansah played three consecutive sold-out in-the-round shows from Thursday to Saturday last week. These shows were designed as a first look at the genre-blending hip-hop/post-punk/R&B artist’s much anticipated third album.
On Friday – the second night of this residency – I found myself descending into an atmosphere of red velvet and orange smoke.
In the centre of the small space, adorned with guitars, keyboards, synthesisers, and drums, stood a modest square stage. Around it, in relatively docile anticipation, a thinly spaced audience awaited Owusu-Ansah and his band’s imminent arrival.
Despite being sold out, the design of the stage, and limited capacity of the room meant it felt far from full. Not only was every audience member able to reach the stage with ease, but when the music began, we all had adequate room to freely dance.
I would not be surprised if this was something Owusu-Ansah had intentionally designed – sacrificing his own physical exhaustion to provide his fans with three scintillating, intimate nights. An altruism the artist has come to be known for, and a generosity confirmed when he arrived on stage.
Amid flashing lights, roars of applause, and the repeated sampled lyrics off his recent single ‘Pirate Radio’ – “Psychosemantic, blowin’ out your brain / Psychosemantic, blowin’ out your brain…” – the shirtless Owusu-Ansah bounded onto the platform with his band in tow.
A traditional Ghanaian wrap strapped his waist, and black jeans swept the floor. Stylish sunglasses hid his eyes, and a silver chain around his neck shone beneath the pulsing strobes.
His appearance was a perfect summary of how the performance to come would walk the line between traditional and contemporary.
His band launched into fresh, experimental music. It raced with a rhythm commanded by samples, drums, and bass, held together with sharp slices of delayed guitar and pulsing keys.
The musicians would pivot from punk to jazz to funk and back to punk while Owusu-Ansah – driving his politically poignant lyrics – would surrender his body to the rhythm around him. Unrestricted by any specific front to the stage, the captivating performer would dance from one side to the next, holding eyes with individual audience members, before returning to the centre – locked between his bandmates.
As if dancing in his own bedroom, he would straddle an air-guitar, raise his arms like a zombie, or just wildly move to the music erupting around him. To witness such an unserious demonstration of joy made it impossible not to grin and dance with him.
Whether it was his traditional attire, dance moves, or my knowledge that he had recently re-engaged with his Ghanaian heritage, I was struck by the similarities between the circle around me, and those seen in traditional Ghanaian dances. A circle, void of hierarchy and propelled by rhythm.
As the performance progressed – Owusu-Ansah growing only more integrated with the audience – so did this similarity. He would launch himself off the stage to dance beside us in manic exaltation. He would bring members onto stage to dance with them slowly, while a soothing operatic tone rose from his chest. He would command us to clap, or chant lyrics – using our combined voices as the rhythm for his songs. Or he would accept gifts of jewellery, or letters with genuine care and adoration for those giving them.
By the end, as Owusu-Ansah stood with a chest glistening with sweat, it felt as if – rather than watching the performance of an artist catapulting toward stardom – we and Owusu-Ansah now stood on a level plain of joy and appreciation.
This echoed a statement he had made at the beginning of the night, welcoming us to the show:
“You are no longer spectators,” he had gleefully proclaimed, “but active participants.”
