Blackdown: Hearing Brown Sugar's "Black Pride" at Spaceape's Memorial was Unforgettable

In the Heartbreakers series, we look at the dance floor tearjerkers that make your night special, whether that's at the height of your high or the plateau. Electronic music has the power to break hearts and this is an appreciation of those songs.

This edition features a moving choice from Martin Clark, whose long-running blog, Blackdown, has been a crucial document of the dubstep scene since its earliest days. Clark also runs Keysound Recordings together with producer Dusk, aka Dan Frampton. For his Heartbreakers, Clark recalls a poignant moment he witnessed at the memorial of the late vocalist and poet Stephen Gordon aka Spaceape.

Held last month, Spaceape's memorial service left me with two especially unshakable thoughts. Firstly, that it's not enough to grasp life, you have to grasp it in all its intensity – as intense as Spaceape's lyrical delivery. Never had it felt so important to heed that. Secondly, was the idea, put forward by The Specials' Jerry Dammers in his eulogy, that we all have a responsibility to ensure Spaceape's musical legacy gains the magnitude of recognition it truly deserves.

It's in the spirit of that thought that I want to describe one fleeting moment from the memorial; one of the most subtle but breathtaking events I've ever witnessed. I hope it's felt I do so in a respectful manner.

While I've loved Spaceape's music ever since hearing "Sine of the Dub", I don't really know that much about lovers rock as a genre, beyond that it is broadly part of  – or associated with – reggae. Although it's just a sub-genre, it's vast and diverse enough that it could consume a lifetime of listening. So the lovers rock song "Black Pride" was completely new to me when it was played at the service between the reflections and eulogies.

I'm hesitant to go into too much detail but as an admirer of Spaceape's music I found it an incredibly moving occasion. I cried silently and for long periods while absorbing the sad but also often funny and warm tributes to Spaceape as both a person and a musician. I can't remember the last time I'd cried like that, it might have been decades since I've done so in public.

The one moment I want to reflect on here was not a sad one. It was absolutely unforgettable. The first 10 seconds of "Black Pride" opened with this off-kilter delayed piano and lead vocalist Caron Wheeler's sultry cry of "ah yeah" – suitably sweet and sour for a Hyperdub occasion. Then Wheeler comes in with the first line, backed by the one drop rhythm.

"Black is the colour/of my skin…"

As it did, the most electrifying thing happened, the likes of which I have never seen before nor expect to see again. Quietly, and quite spontaneously, the voices of the women throughout the congregation began to join in. Barely louder than the music and the background bustle, their unison tones hovered around the chairs and flickered between the isles. The autumn sunlight poured through the windows. I have never, ever, witnessed or felt anything quite so magical.

Stephen Gordon passed away earlier this year.

If you were to reduce different art forms to their most basic components, most of them would probably contain somewhere the intent to generate emotion. Modern living is full of art forms that go to extraordinary effort and process to try to forcibly contrive very "magical" moments. It feels almost disrespectful to the occasion to list these counter examples but we all will have experienced these fabricated artistic constructions across multiple art forms and media.

But what was so moving about this one fleeting moment wasn't just how tenderly the voices sang but was that it was also truly spontaneous in a way that is so rare. It just came into being: a simultaneous convergence of an involuntary impulse, a flickering moment in tribute to Spaceape. And then it was gone.

I went home drained but happy for his close friends and family that just so many people had come to celebrate Spaceape's life. That evening I went onto Discogs, found a copy of "Black Pride" and bought it immediately. As I found out, Wheeler went on to be a vocalist in Soul II Soul as well. The 7" serves to remind me both of that day, of Spaceape, and the thought that without intensity, life can be squandered.

Spaceape's skin may also have been the colour black but his music spoke to us all. He spoke fiercely, evoked vibrant mental imagery and, yes, did so with intensity. Based on an unflinching gaze into the eye of the storm, many of his lyrics were cryptic and I firmly believe he will yet prove more prophetic than we yet understand.  What I am not yet sure of is whether he will be sufficiently widely celebrated. I guess the responsibility for that now lies with us all.

Kode9 and The Spaceape's swansong, Killing Season, was released in October.

Keysound Recordings presents… Certified Connections is also out now.