Cold, gloomy weather must be an incubator for creativity. It's true here in the Pacific Northwest, and with all the excellent music coming out of Sweden in the last few years, it's definitely true there too. Lykke Li is a shining example of this phenomenon, and her Wonder Ballroom show has been sold out for weeks. Inside, the stage setup is minimal. Several strips of long black fabric are affixed to the rafters with metal rings, and hang down in strategic areas of the stage. One lone strand drifts in the middle, and the others are placed behind the various backing band members' stations. The fog machine is set to high, and fills the area with a thick chemical smoke, tinted purple by the lights illuminating the stage. The remaining lights go down for dramatic effect, and Lykke Li makes her entrance in total darkness.
Darkness is replaced by blinding white light, and the set begins. Though vocal mixes are often terrible at Wonder Ballroom, Lykke Li's are crisp and the volume is perfect. The bright lights, fog, and newly added wind machines cause the performance to feel like it is taking place in a train station in front of an oncoming subway car. It has a similar sense of urgency too, like if they play well enough they can stop the train from coming. Li is backed by a drummer, a guitarist, a keyboardist, a lone female backup singer, and a gentleman seated at a tiny piano. Everyone is dressed in black, as if they wish to form a blank canvas that will only let the music shine. Li and her band are exceptionally well-rehearsed, and each song is beautifully executed. She dances with the fabric hanging behind her, and grabs hold of some drumsticks to bang on a nearby set of cymbals. After three songs of her own, Li asks the audience, "Is it ok if I sing a cover song? I get so tired of myself." Don’t we all?
The cover is one I can’t place, but it’s lovely all the same. She returns to her own material with "I Follow Rivers" and "Dance, Dance, Dance," and draws the flowing sleeve of her black garment across her face. Each of the band members is largely in shadow, which allows the music to stand on its own. Their professionalism continues to be evident throughout a night untarnished by a single misstep. With "Silent my Song," Li begins the chorus solo. She is joined in harmony by the backup singer, followed by the keyboardist and so on until the entire band is singing. Li concludes the song as she started it – alone. The themes of loneliness and desolation present in her latest album are gaining well-deserved acclaim, and she evokes them tonight. Though many of the tracks are upbeat and danceable, the lyrics are something else entirely. It’s that juxtaposition of darkness and light that has captured my heart.
At the midway point, Li is deserted by her bandmates and begins playing the stark notes of "I Know Places" on an autoharp. Her band returns, and after several more songs, the beat picks up for "Get Some." All of its recent mainstream radio play has made this a song everyone knows. Dancing ensues throughout the crowd. Li gestures pointedly, exhibiting the dedication and grace of a ballerina. The backup singer incorporates a megaphone into her delivery, drawing surprisingly pretty sounds from what is usually a tool for barking orders. This concludes the set, and the men onstage re-button their suit jackets as they stand to leave. So formal, this band!
"Youth Knows No Pain," my favorite song of the moment, leads the encore. I am surprised to learn that many of the sound effects on the album track are created by the band members' voices. Li has borrowed the megaphone from her bandmate, and is thumping the palm of her hand upon her chest as if to beat the emotionally-charged lyrics out of her body. She concludes the evening with the somber "Unrequited Love," blows us kisses, and floats offstage like a nymph. This has been an exceptional performance from start to finish, no loss of quality between studio and stage. Her talent and dedication are evident, and I feel privileged to have witnessed them firsthand.
Grimes, the sole opener, began the evening. A one-woman act supported only by a drum machine, Grimes has a high voice that borders on electronic and is nearly swallowed by the effects and noises of her instrument. She is quiet and doesn’t enunciate, and I have a hard time determining if the sounds coming from her mouth are actual words or gibberish. As each song begins, Grimes checks her mic with an "Ah" that goes up at the end like a question. As her performance continues, she sounds more like a cartoon princess singing scales to an audience of woodland creatures. She strains her voice on a high note, and finishes the current song at a much lower pitch. The effect is far less experimental at this level, and thus much more enjoyable. Still, the baby voice isn’t doing much for me. I’m not into the monotonous samples produced by her equipment either. Grimes begins to look nervous due to her vocal troubles, and she continues to push her voice to the point of cracking on song after song. Though she garners many cheers when her set ends, I am left with the sense of having witnessed an abstract art project that went over my head.
