Does anyone still care about the Mercury prize for music? The answer is moot, because I care. And, this year, I really care. Of the 12 finalists for 2015, there is one who has captured me so completely, nothing would please my heart more than to see him walk away with the prize.
Benjamin Clementine’s biography is attractively hazy: he’s in his 20s, a self-taught musician, born and raised in north London, but also a former resident of Paris (where he busked and briefly slept rough). But it’s not just that: I first clapped eyes on him in 2013 on Later... With Jools Holland, barefoot at a piano, afro brushed upwards – and I was transfixed.
His face has a hauteur: blame that on his strikingly high cheekbones upon which you could probably cut diamonds. But then he opens his mouth and out pours a honeyed, almost celestial voice. It commands, cajoles and soars; it’s wildly romantic. It is the voice you might choose as your own, had you any say in the matter. And it sounds like no one else: a throwback to a former age, but entirely modern at the same time.
His lyrics, meanwhile, are like magic spells, or dark jokes. On Nemesis, he sings, “And if chewing was to show you how much I cared/I’d probably be wearing dentures by now”. It makes you laugh, then sigh. His final wail on Condolence is pure art. He wears the hell out of a coat.
The winner of this year’s Mercury is announced on 20 November. Which just happens to be my birthday. I already know what I want: give it to Benjamin.
