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Album Review: Ghostpoet

Artist: Ghostpoet

Title: Dark Days and Canapes

Record Label: PIAS

Release Date: 18th August 2017

Rating: 8.0/10

There’s a darkness to Ghostpoet’s 4th LP that’s unmistakably tangible; the title alone refers to its own noir personality. ‘Dark Days and Canapes’ is a collision of many facets; the organic and synthetic, themes of human connection – be it digitally or in person, introspection and an outward looking world view, but the glue that binds everything together is the kind of pitch-black darkness normally associated with the dead of night.

Ghostpoet, AKA Obaro Ejimiwe, has always used melancholy as a vehicle of expression, the Londoner’s debut album was entitled ‘Peanut Butter Blues & Melancholy Jam’ just to ram that point home. However, where melancholy reigns supreme there’s usually a dabble of light or a glimmer of hope to even out the helplessness. ‘Dark Days and Canapes’s predecessor ‘Shedding Skin’ culminates with a shade of optimism as the MC declares “We all fall down/but when we get up/nothing in the world can stop us”. ‘Dark Days and Canapes’ on the other hand contains zero light relief – Ejimiwe’s latest body of work documents fractured relationships, inner turmoil, mental anguish and one particular jab at a contentious subject played out via the post-punk clatter of ‘Immigrant Boogie’. Lurching with a menacing gait, Ghostpoet paints vivid pictures of displaced humans fighting for survival “no-one knows how many on the boat/violent skies won’t show us where to go”. And to anyone grumbling about how “they’re taking our women and taking our jobs” Ejimiwe has the perfect retort “let us in/we never bite” which swiftly followed by “I was dreaming of a better life/where’s my two kids and my lovely wife?”.

Sonically, the album feels claustrophobic – guitars rev and whir, beats fragment and splinter, while taut orchestral flourishes create an ever-swelling wall of tension – it’s an accurate audio depiction of battling anxiety. On paper, we’ll admit this album doesn’t sound like a barrel of laughs but both aurally and thematically it’s compelling. There’s a braveness to ‘Dark Days and Canapes’ that draws you in – it’s exposed, and raw; Ghostpoet hasn’t sugar coated it one bit. Conflicts of the mind are a mainstay with various tracks delving into subjects that are laced with references to depression and anxiety and how they can become debilitating. ‘Trouble + Me’ has Ghostpoet, in his trademark languid drawl, confess “the devil is at the door” and as if to push away anyone close to him “watch out, you better save yourself”. ‘Many Moods At Midnight’ depicts how drastic the pendulum swing can be when you’re locked inside your own head “there’s been better days someone will say/let’s start again tonight” but Ejimiwe utters one word that displaces this very faint glimmer of optimism - “futile” - as if to immediately quash notions of hope. Frenzied wails of guitar do a good job of portraying a frazzled mental state, as the fretwork is unrelenting, constantly building and swelling. A pulse and a sonar-like blip anchor ‘(We’re) Dominoes’ – this is where a nothingness exposes Ghostpoet’s vulnerabilities “can you please explain it clearly to me/we had it all/now we’re dominoes/fall like dominoes”. An ‘In Rainbows’ era Radiohead-like guitar dominates ‘Live>Leave’ which finds the London rapper point a finger at vacuous lifestyles and force-fed reality TV bullshit. “They say go live every minute/go soak it up like a sponge/I guess if you’re motivated/shit like that can be fun” is cynical swipe at the plastic life beamed from our TV screens like Love Island, Made In Chelsea and their ilk – it feels like we’re constantly being told to be perfect but what makes life beautiful is its blemishes. Equally, despite how perfect the cast of these TV shows seem, they’re all vile human beings – you can have all the fake tans and white teeth in the world – that doesn’t hide the fact you’re a vacant, fame hungry piece of shit. ‘Freakshow’ pushes these societal themes further, making references to Tinder dating “I swiped left and figured out/it’s a freakshow’ and brain-dead consumerism “I ain’t left the city in months/I guess Westfield knows what I want”. There are moments on ‘Dark Days and Canapes’ when it feels Ghostpoet has gone beyond anger, so much so there’s a calmness but an eruption could just be around the corner. ‘Karoshi’s the closest to a full-on release of pent up rage – it’s a track held tightly on a leash, as all manner of electronic bleeps and chirps rebound off taut guitars as tension steadily increases – just before a premature climax.

Ambiguity is in short supply on Ghostpoet’s fourth record, lyrics cut deep and leave a lasting impression – none more so than the final track ‘End Times’. Withdrawn, both sonically and vocally, Ejimiwe sounds like a man on the verge of collapse “maybe in time we’ll just eat ourselves” punctuates self-destructions, whereas “it won’t go away swallowing these pills” and “is this end times?” is uncomfortable listening due to its direct references to mental health and suicide.

Ejimiwe hasn’t beaten around the bush with ‘Dark Days and Canapes’ – it’s an album of the times, for the times; as many of us battle mental health issues, we’re drenched in faux-reality media, seeking vacant hook-ups with strangers via mobile apps, all while governments make shitty decisions for their people – crapping on those most in need, looking to wage wars in ridiculous pissing competitions. ‘Dark Days and Canapes’ isn’t easy listening but it is essential.