It’s a few moments before Genesis Owusu’s Mad Cool 2024 set kicks off, and there are only a handful of punters waiting before the stage. Thanks to an unfortunate scheduling clash with The Killers — whose performance is perhaps the weekend’s most anticipated — Owusu’s ‘goon club’ brace themselves for an awkward time as subdued notes of ‘Smile Like You Mean It’ drift from across the festival site.
Yet, any fears quickly disappear once Owusu bounds onto the stage, solo and donning a pair of robotic, silver shoulder pads. Opening with ‘Leaving The Light’, he turns his back on the audience, revealing the quote “I feel alone a lot, but I think we’re all alone together,” inscribed on his white shirt – perhaps a fitting sentiment for this show.
“I flew all the way from Australia to come be with you tonight,” says Owusu, who hails from the country’s capital of Canberra. And it does seem like he’s spent a 24-hour flight brewing, amassing greater energy for every inch his plane crawled across the ocean. Tonight (July 13), his impressive resume as a live performer is on display — he’s previously graced prestigious venues like Berghain, Sydney Opera House and the Enmore Theatre, where the 116-year-old dancefloor collapsed as a result of the intensity conjured during his performance.
These experiences seem to have culminated in an infectious live presence. Each movement is executed with manic precision as he thrusts, spins and saunters on stage in a Michael Jackson-esque manner. The whole thing is clearly meticulously choreographed but somehow maintains an aura of spontaneity as well. As a result, the crowd are in the palm of his hand. When he implores them to dance, they’re thrilled to oblige and if he requests they jump, the field is immediately bouncing in unison. He oozes so much power as a performer that at one point, assisted by thunder sound effects and strobe lights, you wonder if he could summon a rainstorm over Madrid as he stands with his palms facing the sky.
Owusu’s set is never boring, ricocheting between pop-punk, new wave, jazz, funk and soul. The moment you think know what’s coming next, he immediately changes the pace – a journey that’s both disorienting and impossible to walk away from. “I’ve realised that I am just a storyteller,” he told NME in his Cover interview last year. It’s a role he’s keen to play here today, as he pulls a thick, leather-bound red book between sets to deliver spooky monologues contemplating his place in the world. Each time, the applause trickles away, the stage darkens and an ominous glow from the book’s pages casts red light on his face, as a distorted, deep voice ponders things like: “Maybe I can find something in the maybes. Make something pretty out of the broken pieces.”
For ‘A Song About Fishing’, he jumps over the barrier and immerses himself in the audience, gazing into the eyes of one fan through a pair of tinted red sunglasses, and twirling under the arm of another. “God damn this is beautiful, this is so fucking beautiful,” he says, pointing to an undeniable sense of communal joy. “This is my first time in Madrid. I really appreciate all of you coming to see me and welcoming me with open arms and open hearts.”
As he leaves the stage, the screams for an encore defy the size of the audience . “You want one more song from little old me?” Owusu laughs, returning to close the show with an electrifying rendition of ‘Good Times’. He departs once more with a peace sign and, as the crowd reluctantly peel away, there’s a sense that anyone gathered at the Orange Stage bared witness to something bigger tonight — a true performer, unphased by a mere stage clash.