Benjamin Clementine The life of Benjamin Clementine reads like a contemporary fairy-tale. It wasn’t so long ago that this charming gentleman, glorious singersongwriter and self-taught multi-instrumentalist swapped the streets of Paris for the concert hall. With his just-released debut At Least For Now, he’s sending his condolences to fear and setting an example for his peers.
Sitting together on a red velvet couch in a little bar in Amsterdam, Glamcult had an intimate chat with the charming Benjamin Clementine, a tall, broadshouldered, straight-backed Londoner of Ghanaian ancestry with cheek bones as sharp as razors and a smile to die for. The singer-songwriter (and self-taught multi-instrumentalist) has just released his first album, the honest and intense debut At Least For Now. Clementine is a young man with an old soul. Or: a kid from a working-class family in Edmonton— long listed as one of the most crime- ridden areas of London—who found himself after running away and living on the streets of Paris. Some years ago he bought a one-way ticket to seek his fortune overseas, frustrated with the life he was leading in the UK. Although it was tough he found a way to survive: busking in the Paris Metro. All he had on arrival were the clothes he was wearing and a grey hat, which he put on the floor inside the subway station at Place de Clichy, to start singing a capella. To see Clementine perform live is to acknowledge his gift; he is a true musician. His touching performances have sent shivers down spines in both theatres and on the streets, where producers discovered him. Playing in front of people in the Parisian underground for nearly two years paved the way to build his voice, to freely express himself in words and chords; to perfect his art. Even though Clementine struggled during his first months in France, he always knew he was going to be all right. “There wasn’t a single moment that I felt like I was going to die. I don’t worry about things that other people care about. It felt like I was in a real film or something,” he explains calmly. Clementine realized that he was actually doing something he cared for very much: performing. “I really love it,” he admits and laughs shyly. In a soft voice he continues: “I just don’t know
why. It’s very, very difficult to explain, because it’s a mixture of many things… It’s weird, strange, triumphant, joyful, modest, kind… I had to learn to stand in front of an audience, though. Me moving to France was really helpful, because I stood in front of people I’d never seen before in my life. But when I sing I forget about everything. I don’t know how to describe it, but the minute I play it’s all about what I’m trying to project. I mean no harm.” The charismatic Clementine is humble but confident throughout our talk. He is not a composer, he thinks— the songs just come to him; he lets the piano take him where he wants to go— and his lyrics are written mostly in a matter of minutes. Neither is he a singer, considering himself instead an expressionist. “I can sing out of key and don’t give a toss about it. It’ll all be deliberate,” he states. “Some people do too much to let the people know that they can sing. And the funny thing is, I can’t do that. I can’t focus on that. I just express myself: I say what I want to say with my piano and my instruments. That’s it.” Clementine expresses his sensitivities with a total lack of compromise, and he will not let himself be hindered by fashionable trends. “For artists nowadays, in order to play the game they’ve got to do covers of current singers. Obviously, I’ve rejected that token. I could never do it; I’ve tried so many times. It can never sound like the actual song. I once did a very radical version of Nina Simone’s Ain’t Got No/I’ve Got Life, but people found it weird.” Even though Clementine’s lyrics are written in mere moments, they all mark important, formative events in his life. “My lyrics are biographical, all the experiences are real. It’s easier to write when you have something to say,” he says, pointing to the heartbreaks, solitude and family conflicts that fuelled his
songwriting. Even the shortest verse on the album, St-Clementine-On-Tea-AndCroissants, came about when he was sitting down in a Paris café after he got arrested by three police officers for not carrying ID. When asked to elaborate on some of his other songs, the artist remains silent. “My parents never really… eh… I can’t… eh….” It’s clear that Clementine would rather not talk about the painful events that led to his departure from London. “It’s distracting. At least for now I want people to just listen to the music. One could ask why I sing such sad pieces. It brings a lot of questions into play. And if I say I’m not going to answer them I’m a hypocrite, because I’m telling people. But I’m not here to blame anyone. I wouldn’t compare my family to others but I certainly think that they could’ve done better. As could I; I could’ve been a respectful child. But I ought to say my part. So, yeah…” Clementine recorded his album over a period of a year in a studio in London with friend and producer Jonathan Quarmby (Mew, Daley). He played most of the instruments himself: piano, drums, bass—“but not the strings. No way, that was an orchestra of 15 people.” Even though he likes to keep things minimal when it comes to his music, Clementine’s looking forward to performing with a whole orchestra someday. Citing Antony Hegarty as one of his main musical inspirations, who knows what to expect, but for now Benjamin doesn’t want to overdue things: “I have to come out and show people who I am first: someone whose heart belongs to Edmonton, his blood to Africa, his spirit to Britain and his writing to France.” Those who have seen Clementine’s live shows know that a little drama will always be included in the show—if only when the artist appears barefoot behind his beloved instrument. But don’t mistake
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authenticity for eccentricity. “It’s nothing spiritual. I find it hard to even walk barefoot in my house—it’s bloody cold! It’s just a funny little story. A friend of mine gave me his shoes to wear. And when I sat to play the piano my shoes were very slippery, so I took ’em off. From then on I never wore shoes again while playing. It feels good. You’ve got to still be the person that was composing the song in the room, when no one was there. I’m not saying that wearing shoes would change me, but if I was putting on makeup and stuff it doesn’t become what it is any more. When you have these accessories on you, they eat your soul, they eat your heart. That’s also the reason why I want to stay very minimal; except for the orchestra, it’s just the people and me. If I changed that communication, I think it would kill me.” Although he loves to be heard, and feels honoured that people come and see him play in theatres, Clementine’s main drive to communicate with his audience is to help young people. He clarifies: “We’re always faced with the facts that we’re not experienced. We have no knowledge of life with its ups and downs. If I hadn’t lived the life that I led, I would understand nothing. Me singing it, I’m giving it to people.” To be honest, there are worse role models for young people. What is it exactly Clementine wants to tell them with his songs? “We’re born into fear: without fear death would be nothing,” he begins. “Fear is inevitable. We spend all our time in life trying to conquer fear. And I want people to put their fear in my shoes. Loads of beautiful things happened to me while living on the streets—it’s hard to even pick a single one. Just know there’s always going to be a way—and fight with respect.”
Gc Interview