I enjoyed this production of My Fair Lady at the Theatre Royal, which was musically sound and handsome on a small scale. The production stuck very closely to that of the film in aesthetics (sets and costumes) and staging.
I was so happy that we did get Richard E. Grant as Professor Higgins, and he didn't disappoint - he's a decent singer, and very much Henry Higgins in his delivery of those cutting lines. He's much more physical in his performance that I'd expected for the role, constantly in motion, but it works since he is a much younger Henry than usual. When they took their bows at the end, he was a little teary-eyed, probably out of relief at successfully pulling off his musical theatre debut.
Taryn Fiebig has a good singing voice, but I found her a little harder to hear in dialogue, since she seems to swallow her words - I don't know if that's an operatic training thing. She looked lovely though in the Ascot and ball costumes. And John Wood was very funny as Alfie, though I question the amount of eyeliner they used on him...why would a common dustman wear so much eyeliner (or any at all, really)? The supporting cast were good too. There was a slight tendency towards the hammy (from the whole cast, though I'd single out the actor playing Freddy as a particularly notable example), but it's always had that feel, especially in the 'cockney' folk-of-the-street numbers.
The 'romantic' ending (that of the original musical and film, not Shaw's Pygmalion ending) worked better for me here, this time. They chose to play up the romantic tension from earlier on, and in the scene at Mrs Higgins' house they make it much more explicit that both Eliza and Henry have feelings for each other, but it's more a battle for Henry to acknowledge Eliza as more than his marvelous creation, as her own self instead. Which makes their reconciliation sweeter, and more understandable.
Monday, October 6, 2008
Sunday, October 5, 2008
Conor Oberst - 4 Oct 2008 - Enmore Theatre
The concert, showcasing Oberst' new eponymous album of upbeat indie-folk rock songs with trademark depressing-as-hell lyric, was good. Musically, the five piece Mystic Valley Band worked together well, backing Conor solidly as he strummed a variety of guitars and threw himself all over the stage and played in their faces. They even took lead vocal duties on a few songs.
The only problem was the sound was quite muddy, and the band overpowered the vocal quite a lot. I enjoyed it a lot more when Conor played the simpler arrangements, usually himself and one other member accompanying him - in those moments it was clear how beautiful and unique his voice is, how affecting the songs are. I particularly loved a slowed down version of Cape Canaveral, with the guitar slapping and extended band jam. Actually, all the band jams were good examples of Americana folk rock at its best. And Conor clearly adores his band, from his descriptions of them as amazing and lovely, and the random shaking of their hands in thanks, and the group hug at the end of the second last song.
Conor himself was ADORABLE. He was a tiny man, smart and oddly formal in a dark suit and tie. He was obviously enjoying his time on stage, playing with passion, dancing oddly around with his arms in the air or outstretched at other times. He even climbed up on the drummer's riser, then onto his bass drum, where he proceeded to play and sing half a song during the encore. He also came and sat on the edge of the stage for Central City, to the joy of those lucky fans at the barrier. His voice was, as already noted, in good form, and he had this great growl in the more bluesy songs that was both unexpected and much appreciated.
The set list was pretty obscure; apart from nearly every song from the new album, there was a scattering of covers, unreleased songs and rare tracks. Milk Thistle ("This is a therapeutic song" was Conor's introduction) was amazingly moving live, and I really liked the blues cover Corinna, Corinna.
Sausalito
Get-Well-Cards
Danny Callahan
Central City
Smoke Signals
Cape Canaveral
I Got A Reason #1
Moab
Ten Women
I Got A Reason #2
Sun Down
NYC - Gone Gone
Souled Out!!!
Milk Thistle
Lenders in the Temple
Corinna, Corinna
Kodachrome (Paul Simons cover)
I Don't Want to Die (In The Hospital)
Breezy
The only problem was the sound was quite muddy, and the band overpowered the vocal quite a lot. I enjoyed it a lot more when Conor played the simpler arrangements, usually himself and one other member accompanying him - in those moments it was clear how beautiful and unique his voice is, how affecting the songs are. I particularly loved a slowed down version of Cape Canaveral, with the guitar slapping and extended band jam. Actually, all the band jams were good examples of Americana folk rock at its best. And Conor clearly adores his band, from his descriptions of them as amazing and lovely, and the random shaking of their hands in thanks, and the group hug at the end of the second last song.
Conor himself was ADORABLE. He was a tiny man, smart and oddly formal in a dark suit and tie. He was obviously enjoying his time on stage, playing with passion, dancing oddly around with his arms in the air or outstretched at other times. He even climbed up on the drummer's riser, then onto his bass drum, where he proceeded to play and sing half a song during the encore. He also came and sat on the edge of the stage for Central City, to the joy of those lucky fans at the barrier. His voice was, as already noted, in good form, and he had this great growl in the more bluesy songs that was both unexpected and much appreciated.
The set list was pretty obscure; apart from nearly every song from the new album, there was a scattering of covers, unreleased songs and rare tracks. Milk Thistle ("This is a therapeutic song" was Conor's introduction) was amazingly moving live, and I really liked the blues cover Corinna, Corinna.
Sausalito
Get-Well-Cards
Danny Callahan
Central City
Smoke Signals
Cape Canaveral
I Got A Reason #1
Moab
Ten Women
I Got A Reason #2
Sun Down
NYC - Gone Gone
Souled Out!!!
Milk Thistle
Lenders in the Temple
Corinna, Corinna
Kodachrome (Paul Simons cover)
I Don't Want to Die (In The Hospital)
Breezy
Saturday, September 6, 2008
Jebediah - 5 Sept 2008 - Annandale Hotel
Inside the venue it was warm and already packed with an older crowd ready to relive their late teens and early twenties with a good Aussie band playing a good Aussie gig. And they'd have to be a tough critic with a heart of stone to have come away disappointed at the end of the night.
Jebediah played mostly old favourites from their first two albums, mixed in with a few later songs as well as some new material due out next year. The new songs are catchy and fit in fine with the rest of their set, but it was the old songs that the crowd really came for, and what they really enjoyed. It was a sight to have bald men in collared shirts bouncing up and down to the music like fifteen year olds at their first gig.
Kevin Mitchell has the most adorable grin, and he had it on a lot; the band were obviously very happy to be back on stage after a three year hiatus ("Emo happened," Kevin deadpanned as an explanation). The weird thing was that the band didn't look like they'd aged at all. I last saw them nine years ago at Homebake, but even as we surged closer to the stage they looked just as they had all that time ago. I heard a lot of people around us murmuring the same thing, and I'm leaning towards the band having a collective portrait somewhere in an attic that's growing uglier by the moment ala Dorian Gray, though I suppose 'vampires' could also be a valid explanation.
After about an hour of playing, and having played a good amount of their best known songs - Feet Touch the Ground, Harpoon, Animal, Please Leave - they started taking requests. Teflon was hugely fun, with the whole crowd jumping up and down and yelling '1, 2, 3, 4' happily back at the band leading out of the chorus. At the 'end' of the show, after leaving the stage for a few minutes while the crowd were treated to a wall of reverb, the band returned to the audience's joy, and went into their biggest song of all, Leaving Home.
Then promptly returned to taking requests, throwing in some long forgotten tracks (Benedict! That really took me back to being fourteen again), as well as admitting that they couldn't remember how to play Military Strongmen (to the audience's disappointment), and deflecting the odd audience comment ("But we've already played Teflon!" Kevin said, wryly amused, to one obviously persistent fan). Finally, they settled on Invaders as their last song, as per two fans in the front row, who were then invited to come up on stage and take over vocal duties, which they really took to, complete with air guitaring and rock star moves. It was a hilarious and awesome way to end the night, feeling that no matter how much time had elapsed, Jebediah were still a great band with a connection with the local fans who loved them.
NDC
Feet Touch the Ground
(new song)
It's Over
Animal
Please Leave
Harpoon
No Sleep
(new song)
Fall Down
Teflon
Star Machine
Jerks of Attention
Leaving Home
Monument
Benedict
Invaders
Jebediah played mostly old favourites from their first two albums, mixed in with a few later songs as well as some new material due out next year. The new songs are catchy and fit in fine with the rest of their set, but it was the old songs that the crowd really came for, and what they really enjoyed. It was a sight to have bald men in collared shirts bouncing up and down to the music like fifteen year olds at their first gig.
Kevin Mitchell has the most adorable grin, and he had it on a lot; the band were obviously very happy to be back on stage after a three year hiatus ("Emo happened," Kevin deadpanned as an explanation). The weird thing was that the band didn't look like they'd aged at all. I last saw them nine years ago at Homebake, but even as we surged closer to the stage they looked just as they had all that time ago. I heard a lot of people around us murmuring the same thing, and I'm leaning towards the band having a collective portrait somewhere in an attic that's growing uglier by the moment ala Dorian Gray, though I suppose 'vampires' could also be a valid explanation.
After about an hour of playing, and having played a good amount of their best known songs - Feet Touch the Ground, Harpoon, Animal, Please Leave - they started taking requests. Teflon was hugely fun, with the whole crowd jumping up and down and yelling '1, 2, 3, 4' happily back at the band leading out of the chorus. At the 'end' of the show, after leaving the stage for a few minutes while the crowd were treated to a wall of reverb, the band returned to the audience's joy, and went into their biggest song of all, Leaving Home.
Then promptly returned to taking requests, throwing in some long forgotten tracks (Benedict! That really took me back to being fourteen again), as well as admitting that they couldn't remember how to play Military Strongmen (to the audience's disappointment), and deflecting the odd audience comment ("But we've already played Teflon!" Kevin said, wryly amused, to one obviously persistent fan). Finally, they settled on Invaders as their last song, as per two fans in the front row, who were then invited to come up on stage and take over vocal duties, which they really took to, complete with air guitaring and rock star moves. It was a hilarious and awesome way to end the night, feeling that no matter how much time had elapsed, Jebediah were still a great band with a connection with the local fans who loved them.
NDC
Feet Touch the Ground
(new song)
It's Over
Animal
Please Leave
Harpoon
No Sleep
(new song)
Fall Down
Teflon
Star Machine
Jerks of Attention
Leaving Home
Monument
Benedict
Invaders
Sunday, August 24, 2008
Panic at the Disco / The Academy Is... / Cobra Starship - 22+23 Aug 2008 - Acer Arena + Rod Laver Arena (Melb)
Saw this gig two nights in a row, once in Sydney and once in Melbourne.
Cobra Starship
Cobra Starship were lots of high energy fun, as usual. Frontman Gabe Saporta continues to have the best grasp of showmanship I've ever seen live, he really knows how to work a crowd. In Melbourne they were even more animated than the night before, with Gabe mouthing off at a mile a minute between songs, jumping all over the stage, hanging off his bandmates as he sang for an already enthusiastic crowd. They were fun, as always, though they played exactly the same set in both cities, and were running close to the script with regards to banter.
The City Is At War
Hey Mr DJ
The Church of Hot Addiction
Smile for the Paparazzi
Snakes on a Plane
(Hollaback Boy)
Guilty Pleasure
The Academy Is...
The Academy Is... were much improved from when I saw them last. The two new songs they playedm, from the just released third album Fast Times at Barrington High, worked well live, and were well received by the audience. William Beckett remains a really earnest frontman, though they were slower to warm to the crowd in Melbourne, with less banter and connection.
Their set list overall was a bit odd though, not enough high points with lesser known songs from older albums. They slightly reshuffled of the set in Melbourne, though they played the same songs in both cities, much to my disappointment.
Neighbors
Slow Down
Forever Young = Summer Hair
The Phrase That Pays
We've Got a Big Mess on our Hands
About A Girl
Everything We Had
Checkmarks
Panic at the Disco
Like the other bands, Panic at the Disco played the same set in both cities with banter along similar lines, though there was spontaneity in how they'd react to the crowds' response, and warmth in how much they enjoyed performing. Concerts in stadiums have crap sound, usually, and unfortunately it was true of both Sydney and Melbourne - the mix was uneven such that I could always hear one guitar over the other, and while that meant I got to enjoy Ryan Ross guitar solos very clearly, moments like Brendon Urie's solo in Pas De Cheval had lesser impact, sounding muddier and lost in the mix.
The band had new arrangements of older songs, trying to bridge the difference in sound between their first and second albums, and they sounded good. Apart from the musical aspect, they played such a *warm* show, all light and joy (and flowers and bubbles!), and it reflected the atmosphere of the set.
Fans kept throwing thing on stage, which made for some enjoyable interaction between band and crowd - at one point, Ryan repeated "Brendon just got paid!" since a total of 65 cents had been thrown at Brendon. And I laughed when Ryan declared proudly that he was keeping '20p'. Wrong country! But it was a nice exchange, indicative of how relaxed and amused the band were on stage.
We're So Starving
Nine in the Afternoon
But It's Better If You Do
Camisado
She's a Handsome Woman
The Only Difference Between Martyrdom And Suicide Is Press Coverage
Behind the Sea
Lying Is The Most Fun A Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off
I Constantly Thank God For Esteban
That Green Gentleman
There's A Good Reason These Tables Are Numbered Honey, You Just Haven't Figured It Out Yet
Folkin' Around
I Write Sins, Not Tragedies
Northern Downpour
-
Time to Dance (acoustic)
Pas De Cheval
Mad as Rabbits
Cobra Starship
Cobra Starship were lots of high energy fun, as usual. Frontman Gabe Saporta continues to have the best grasp of showmanship I've ever seen live, he really knows how to work a crowd. In Melbourne they were even more animated than the night before, with Gabe mouthing off at a mile a minute between songs, jumping all over the stage, hanging off his bandmates as he sang for an already enthusiastic crowd. They were fun, as always, though they played exactly the same set in both cities, and were running close to the script with regards to banter.
The City Is At War
Hey Mr DJ
The Church of Hot Addiction
Smile for the Paparazzi
Snakes on a Plane
(Hollaback Boy)
Guilty Pleasure
The Academy Is...
The Academy Is... were much improved from when I saw them last. The two new songs they playedm, from the just released third album Fast Times at Barrington High, worked well live, and were well received by the audience. William Beckett remains a really earnest frontman, though they were slower to warm to the crowd in Melbourne, with less banter and connection.
Their set list overall was a bit odd though, not enough high points with lesser known songs from older albums. They slightly reshuffled of the set in Melbourne, though they played the same songs in both cities, much to my disappointment.
Neighbors
Slow Down
Forever Young = Summer Hair
The Phrase That Pays
We've Got a Big Mess on our Hands
About A Girl
Everything We Had
Checkmarks
Panic at the Disco
Like the other bands, Panic at the Disco played the same set in both cities with banter along similar lines, though there was spontaneity in how they'd react to the crowds' response, and warmth in how much they enjoyed performing. Concerts in stadiums have crap sound, usually, and unfortunately it was true of both Sydney and Melbourne - the mix was uneven such that I could always hear one guitar over the other, and while that meant I got to enjoy Ryan Ross guitar solos very clearly, moments like Brendon Urie's solo in Pas De Cheval had lesser impact, sounding muddier and lost in the mix.
The band had new arrangements of older songs, trying to bridge the difference in sound between their first and second albums, and they sounded good. Apart from the musical aspect, they played such a *warm* show, all light and joy (and flowers and bubbles!), and it reflected the atmosphere of the set.
Fans kept throwing thing on stage, which made for some enjoyable interaction between band and crowd - at one point, Ryan repeated "Brendon just got paid!" since a total of 65 cents had been thrown at Brendon. And I laughed when Ryan declared proudly that he was keeping '20p'. Wrong country! But it was a nice exchange, indicative of how relaxed and amused the band were on stage.
We're So Starving
Nine in the Afternoon
But It's Better If You Do
Camisado
She's a Handsome Woman
The Only Difference Between Martyrdom And Suicide Is Press Coverage
Behind the Sea
Lying Is The Most Fun A Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off
I Constantly Thank God For Esteban
That Green Gentleman
There's A Good Reason These Tables Are Numbered Honey, You Just Haven't Figured It Out Yet
Folkin' Around
I Write Sins, Not Tragedies
Northern Downpour
-
Time to Dance (acoustic)
Pas De Cheval
Mad as Rabbits
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Death Cab for Cutie - 19 Aug 2008 - Oxford Art Factory
They started with Champagne from a Paper Cup, and from there played a short set of rather obscure song choices. One for the diehard fans, with barely any singles (and not the well known ones), reaching back to their second album (of six), barely a nod to their best known albums, and and two non-single, slower songs from their latest.
It seemed to make sense - an intimate gig in an intimate venue for the hardcore fans - BUT the problem was the gig didn't feel intimate at all. Because it was recorded and broadcast live for myspaceTV, the focus seemed to be on reaching the audience out there, watching on their screens, and not those who were crowded at the band's feet.
Ben Gibbard's banter was for those watching online; all the live audience got was a passive aggressive telling-off for talking (you, in the front row!). Though Chris Walla got in a terrible pun that I liked at the end, when they were talking about the possibility of this gig being watched on the space station, and suddenly this voice pipes up from the side, "Myspace station, heh heh heh!"
I enjoyed this gig anyway - it was free, I got to see Death Cab live again, I got to hear songs I wouldn't normally expect to hear live.
Champagne from a Paper Cup
A Movie Script Ending
405
Talking Bird
Grapevine Fires
Photobooth
Title and Registration (video)
It seemed to make sense - an intimate gig in an intimate venue for the hardcore fans - BUT the problem was the gig didn't feel intimate at all. Because it was recorded and broadcast live for myspaceTV, the focus seemed to be on reaching the audience out there, watching on their screens, and not those who were crowded at the band's feet.
Ben Gibbard's banter was for those watching online; all the live audience got was a passive aggressive telling-off for talking (you, in the front row!). Though Chris Walla got in a terrible pun that I liked at the end, when they were talking about the possibility of this gig being watched on the space station, and suddenly this voice pipes up from the side, "Myspace station, heh heh heh!"
I enjoyed this gig anyway - it was free, I got to see Death Cab live again, I got to hear songs I wouldn't normally expect to hear live.
Champagne from a Paper Cup
A Movie Script Ending
405
Talking Bird
Grapevine Fires
Photobooth
Title and Registration (video)
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
Band of Horses - 5 Aug 2008 - The Metro
I'm kind of stuck on "IT WAS AWESOME THEY WERE AMAZING I WANT TO MARRY BEN BRIDWELL'S VOICE". It's tempered on the CD and sounds pure and sweet, but live it just rings and soars. Even when it shouldn't sound so warm, when phrases end in yelps, it sounds like a bell, high and clear. Normally, I get very restless during slow songs, and the middle of the set was packed with softer moments, but I just closed my eyes and let the music wash over me in bliss. The musicianship of the whole band was great, particularly in the guitar work which reminds me of the good parts of classic rock, and the blues. It just sounded so so good overall, note-perfect but with heart and atmosphere that makes a live show worth it.
Apart from the music itself, the band were fun and relaxed on stage, bantering amongst themselves (culminating, at one point, with a foul-mouthed rant from their keyboardist, Ryan Monroe, about New Zealanders and sheep) as well as joking with the audience. Upon being greeted with the typical Whooooooooo! of excitement as they took to the stage at the start, Ben Bridwell returned the call, and would do so throughout the night, a goodnaturedly mocking call and response. A happy fan exclaimed, after a rollicking first four songs, "You guys sound great!" which fell upon a unexpected hush over the room, such that it carried not only the stage but all through the theatre. The band laughed and acknowledged the fannish adoration, attributing it all to the sound guy. They just seemed very easygoing as performers, and cutely aware of the relationship between them and their audience; as they sounded out the very well-known and probably very eagerly awaited for first notes of their best known track, The Funeral, Ben Bridwell called out that this was their "fake last song", and at the end bid us their "fake goodbye", a nod and a wink at the encore to come.
Certain other things kept me amused during the night - the crazy, pogo-ing fan who managed to jump up and down excitedly during every song, regardless of the tempo or mood; the fact that BoH may well be one of the most hirsuit bands I have ever seen and their fans likewise (it was truly a Band of Beards, with muttonchops and moustaches aplenty on the 5/6ths I could see) - but what kept the smile on my face was the band's amazing talent and the wonderful songs. From familiar singles to older songs to fantastic covers to audience sing-a-long as Ben Bridwell pointed first to us and them himself in the refrain of "you...me..." in The General Specific that ended the night, the overwhelming feeling was one of joy, from the band and reflected back by the crowd.
Is There A Ghost
The Great Salt Lake
Islands on the Coast
Weed Party
? (featured a harmonica)
Thirteen Days (J.J. Cale cover)
Marry Song
Cigarettes, Wedding Bands
The First Song
No One Goes Out Anymore (Tyler Ramsey)
Detlef Schrempf
Older (Ryan Monroe)
No One's Gonna Love You
Ode to LRC
Wicked Gil
The Funeral
Our Swords
Am I A Good Man (Them Two cover)
General Specific
Apart from the music itself, the band were fun and relaxed on stage, bantering amongst themselves (culminating, at one point, with a foul-mouthed rant from their keyboardist, Ryan Monroe, about New Zealanders and sheep) as well as joking with the audience. Upon being greeted with the typical Whooooooooo! of excitement as they took to the stage at the start, Ben Bridwell returned the call, and would do so throughout the night, a goodnaturedly mocking call and response. A happy fan exclaimed, after a rollicking first four songs, "You guys sound great!" which fell upon a unexpected hush over the room, such that it carried not only the stage but all through the theatre. The band laughed and acknowledged the fannish adoration, attributing it all to the sound guy. They just seemed very easygoing as performers, and cutely aware of the relationship between them and their audience; as they sounded out the very well-known and probably very eagerly awaited for first notes of their best known track, The Funeral, Ben Bridwell called out that this was their "fake last song", and at the end bid us their "fake goodbye", a nod and a wink at the encore to come.
Certain other things kept me amused during the night - the crazy, pogo-ing fan who managed to jump up and down excitedly during every song, regardless of the tempo or mood; the fact that BoH may well be one of the most hirsuit bands I have ever seen and their fans likewise (it was truly a Band of Beards, with muttonchops and moustaches aplenty on the 5/6ths I could see) - but what kept the smile on my face was the band's amazing talent and the wonderful songs. From familiar singles to older songs to fantastic covers to audience sing-a-long as Ben Bridwell pointed first to us and them himself in the refrain of "you...me..." in The General Specific that ended the night, the overwhelming feeling was one of joy, from the band and reflected back by the crowd.
Is There A Ghost
The Great Salt Lake
Islands on the Coast
Weed Party
? (featured a harmonica)
Thirteen Days (J.J. Cale cover)
Marry Song
Cigarettes, Wedding Bands
The First Song
No One Goes Out Anymore (Tyler Ramsey)
Detlef Schrempf
Older (Ryan Monroe)
No One's Gonna Love You
Ode to LRC
Wicked Gil
The Funeral
Our Swords
Am I A Good Man (Them Two cover)
General Specific
Sunday, March 9, 2008
Jens Lekman - 8 Mar 2008 - Manning Bar
Jens Lekman was only in Sydney two months ago, playing a solo gig at The Vanguard, plus a cosy impromptu set afterwards to a group of lucky fans milling outside the venue. But here he was again, this time performing to a much larger crowd in Manning Bar at the University of Sydney. Though when the live experience is this charming and enjoyable though, one can hardly quibble about the frequency with which it comes around.
Luckily for those who may have missed these shows, there is still hope: while most musicians will claim an affinity for Australia while touring here, Lekman actually moved to Melbourne this year to escape his Swedish home, the sleepy suburb immortalised in the title of his latest offering Night Falls Over Kortedala.
Lekman takes to the stage late in the evening, a small figure dressed down in a jumper and neat slacks, his hair light and rather fluffy under the lights, looking more like a friendly accountant than an internationally acclaimed musician. Yet the crowd is vocally enthusiastic in their welcome, and he responds with the first verse of “I’m Leaving You Because I Don’t Love You”, his unaccompanied voice strong and clear.
The set draws heavily from Kortedala, his third full-length album, providing plenty of ethereal lush pop songs, ranging from the seemingly upbeat paean to loneliness “The Opposite of Hallelujah” to melancholy ballad “Shirin”. While the album, with its strings and horns and trilling flutes over samples and jaunty beats, can seem sickly sweet at times, in live performance the songs are warm and charming Lekman rotates between strumming his guitar, pressing the keys, or dancing as he sings, supported by his Swedish-Australian five piece on drums, bass, cello and violin, as well as one member in charge of sampling from a laptop onstage, providing instrumentation – trumpet, additional strings - in the absence of the real thing. Jens’ baritone, with its slight tremolo, the clipped sounds betraying his accent, may not be a powerhouse vocal but its suits his music perfectly, gentle and pleasant to the ears.
Lekman has stated on his blog what he loves about pop music is “everything that is unique and personal”. This is evident in his approach to his own music, with songs crafted around imperfect memories of conversations and events in his life, and never more ably demonstrated than in “A Postcard to Nina”, a song presented as correspondence between Jens and his German friend Nina, narrating an awkward family dinner during which Nina, a lesbian, hides behind the fiction that Jens is her boyfriend for the sake of her elderly conservative father. In performance, with the skill of a seasoned raconteur, Lekman adds a spoken prologue, and throws in new details, dramatic pauses, even the hint of different voices to draw out the tale within his song.
Such anecdotes are peppered through the whole night, not only tying the songs together, but imbuing them with additional meaning that serves both to bond Lekman with his audience, and his audience with each other as a worldwide collective of captivated fans. An older track, “Black Cab”, is introduced by way of a story about the Turkish fan who could only identify his favourite song by its two note refrain; while another story about Florentine fans disgruntled by Jens’ kind words about their hometown leads to Jens yelling “F*** Sydney!” in a deadpan voice that has the crowd giggling in knowing appreciation.
Lekman further establishes his ability to use any moment in his personal and professional life as creative material by turning Google map directions, used to guide taxi drivers from his home in Sweden to the airport (Kortedala, apparently, being akin to a labyrinth – easy to get into but hard to leave), into a song he introduces as “New Directions”. It is this personal and unique storytelling element that elevates Lekman’s songs and performance to the sublime. He attempts, and arguably succeeds, in capturing everyday experiences – love, loneliness, regrets, infatuation, grief – with a wistfulness that acknowledges the shifting impermanence of memory, and with a keen eye for observation that is almost sociological, revealing depths of in the seemingly mundane moments of life.
So it is understandable that when Lekman leaves the stage after only an hour, disappointment is evident in the murmurs of the crowd. But Lekman returns, first with his band for two more songs, including a rousing rendition of “A Sweet Summer’s Night On Hammer Hill” that culminates with band members climbing out from behind their instruments to swerve around the stage, arms outstretched in joyous dance.
Jens then comes back onstage for a three song solo encore, throwing in some more dryly amusing banter - “This is a song about a girl. You may ask, Jens, why do you write so many songs about girls? (pause) I like girls.” - followed by an interactive exercise, one more way of drawing the crowd to him. He divides them into two sections; those with “darker voices” are called to sing the chorus, while those with “lighter voices…shut up.” And yet closer “Pocketful of Money” resounds with both dark and light voices, the entire crowd eager to be included in the Jens Lekman experience, to maybe find themselves the subject of another story to be told to another crowd on another night like this in his future.
Luckily for those who may have missed these shows, there is still hope: while most musicians will claim an affinity for Australia while touring here, Lekman actually moved to Melbourne this year to escape his Swedish home, the sleepy suburb immortalised in the title of his latest offering Night Falls Over Kortedala.
Lekman takes to the stage late in the evening, a small figure dressed down in a jumper and neat slacks, his hair light and rather fluffy under the lights, looking more like a friendly accountant than an internationally acclaimed musician. Yet the crowd is vocally enthusiastic in their welcome, and he responds with the first verse of “I’m Leaving You Because I Don’t Love You”, his unaccompanied voice strong and clear.
The set draws heavily from Kortedala, his third full-length album, providing plenty of ethereal lush pop songs, ranging from the seemingly upbeat paean to loneliness “The Opposite of Hallelujah” to melancholy ballad “Shirin”. While the album, with its strings and horns and trilling flutes over samples and jaunty beats, can seem sickly sweet at times, in live performance the songs are warm and charming Lekman rotates between strumming his guitar, pressing the keys, or dancing as he sings, supported by his Swedish-Australian five piece on drums, bass, cello and violin, as well as one member in charge of sampling from a laptop onstage, providing instrumentation – trumpet, additional strings - in the absence of the real thing. Jens’ baritone, with its slight tremolo, the clipped sounds betraying his accent, may not be a powerhouse vocal but its suits his music perfectly, gentle and pleasant to the ears.
Lekman has stated on his blog what he loves about pop music is “everything that is unique and personal”. This is evident in his approach to his own music, with songs crafted around imperfect memories of conversations and events in his life, and never more ably demonstrated than in “A Postcard to Nina”, a song presented as correspondence between Jens and his German friend Nina, narrating an awkward family dinner during which Nina, a lesbian, hides behind the fiction that Jens is her boyfriend for the sake of her elderly conservative father. In performance, with the skill of a seasoned raconteur, Lekman adds a spoken prologue, and throws in new details, dramatic pauses, even the hint of different voices to draw out the tale within his song.
Such anecdotes are peppered through the whole night, not only tying the songs together, but imbuing them with additional meaning that serves both to bond Lekman with his audience, and his audience with each other as a worldwide collective of captivated fans. An older track, “Black Cab”, is introduced by way of a story about the Turkish fan who could only identify his favourite song by its two note refrain; while another story about Florentine fans disgruntled by Jens’ kind words about their hometown leads to Jens yelling “F*** Sydney!” in a deadpan voice that has the crowd giggling in knowing appreciation.
Lekman further establishes his ability to use any moment in his personal and professional life as creative material by turning Google map directions, used to guide taxi drivers from his home in Sweden to the airport (Kortedala, apparently, being akin to a labyrinth – easy to get into but hard to leave), into a song he introduces as “New Directions”. It is this personal and unique storytelling element that elevates Lekman’s songs and performance to the sublime. He attempts, and arguably succeeds, in capturing everyday experiences – love, loneliness, regrets, infatuation, grief – with a wistfulness that acknowledges the shifting impermanence of memory, and with a keen eye for observation that is almost sociological, revealing depths of in the seemingly mundane moments of life.
So it is understandable that when Lekman leaves the stage after only an hour, disappointment is evident in the murmurs of the crowd. But Lekman returns, first with his band for two more songs, including a rousing rendition of “A Sweet Summer’s Night On Hammer Hill” that culminates with band members climbing out from behind their instruments to swerve around the stage, arms outstretched in joyous dance.
Jens then comes back onstage for a three song solo encore, throwing in some more dryly amusing banter - “This is a song about a girl. You may ask, Jens, why do you write so many songs about girls? (pause) I like girls.” - followed by an interactive exercise, one more way of drawing the crowd to him. He divides them into two sections; those with “darker voices” are called to sing the chorus, while those with “lighter voices…shut up.” And yet closer “Pocketful of Money” resounds with both dark and light voices, the entire crowd eager to be included in the Jens Lekman experience, to maybe find themselves the subject of another story to be told to another crowd on another night like this in his future.
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