You’d be forgiven for recoiling at the thought of a gig promising a Cambridge graduate spitting spoken-word rhymes about teen pregnancy and economic inequality. On paper, George Mpanga’s live act sounds like hard work.
But, under his George the Poet performance moniker, the 24-year-old serves up a show that oozes charisma. At his best, he’s a skilled orator. At his worst, he verges on scolding lectures that, on songs such as Baby Mother and Gentlemen, become tiresome.
Mpanga started out as a rapper and his work remains littered with allusions to inner-city strife. His defining characteristic as a poet stems from his choice to straddle the worlds of Oxbridge academia and the north London estate he calls home.
Onstage, he relaxes into this dual identity, taking on different characters – Anton and Patricia in If the Shoe Fits, for example – and switching back into George mode to explain the motivation behind each song. The effect is similar to DVD commentary in real time, and swings from insightful and intimate to exhausting, depending on the articulation of Mpanga’s point. He can be playful, slipping a grime German Whip reference into track Grinding, which begins when Mpanga stages a fake phone call and turns an iPhone ringtone into the song’s sample. He’s also energetic, galloping over tongue-twisting verses and singing the odd hook – telling the crowd, with a laugh, that he can’t sing.
But, at several points, he’s admonishing. His debut EP Chicken and the Egg is centred on youth pregnancy and what he perceives as self-destructive patterns in young people’s sexual behaviour. When he paints a perfect picture of the “hysterical woman” on If the Shoe Fits, and implies that a sexually promiscuous woman is a menace on Alison Wonderland, his set feels more appropriate for an adolescent sex-ed class than a gig.
“If you lot think I came here to talk and sell a couple records, you got me fucked up,” he says towards the end of the set. In his view, he wants to change the world – and plug the book of poetry he’s selling, of course. Mpanga doesn’t call himself an artist, and appears to perceive his live gigs as opportunities to air his views. He ends up coming across like a sprightly politician on the stand, with the eloquence to charm his way into office. But, as a pop prospect, his campaign trail still needs a little work.
