The Post-Rockist

Jens Lekman
The Southgate House
Newport, KY: July 25, 2006

As usual, I was in a hurry for no good reason.  One would think that when melancholy Swedish pop sensation Jens Lekman is planning a performance in a medium-sized Midwestern city that the venue would be packed to the gills with sensible, well-dressed pop enthusiasts and Jonathan Richman acolytes, politely trampling over one another in a frenzied rush to be first in line.  Such was not the case, however, as I pulled up to the Southgate House in Newport, Kentucky.  I parked, considered the seemingly deserted venue, crossed the street and ordered a chocolate milk shake, and then waited a little while longer.  Perhaps it was the lure of the Tuesday night television line-up, but in my book when Gothenburg’s ablest songwriter comes a-knockin’ on your door, you turn off that Law & Order: SVU rerun and make him feel at home.

The intimate gathering, accented by red velvet drapes and shattered windows, kicked off with a short set by Frida Hyvönen. Go ahead, big shot, you try pronouncing it. Frida confidently strode up to the piano in a bright red cat suit offset with a shock of platinum blonde hair and, with a voice that was whispery and melodic, she beckoned the audience to pull up their chairs. After much squeaking on the audience’s behalf, she began to play a series of simplistic, marching rhythms, and, with a voice that was whispery and melodic, sang simple songs.

Now, before I go into detail about Jens’ performance, let me clear up one thing. Did I say that he was melancholy earlier? Well, scratch that. That was my mistake. Allow me to modify that description. He was very happy to be there with us that evening. So happy, one might even say he was bouncing with giddiness. One might. In fact, with his boyish grin, Gary Busey shirt, rubbery knees, and rounded fedora, he gave the impression of a young Buster Keaton on stage: daffy, hopelessly romantic, and with just a slight touch of unmistakable melancholy, but not enough to sour the mood.

 

He sings with a familiar air, writing songs with strong echoes of Phil Spector, the Magnetic Fields, and all the old love letters you wished you had written. With so many obvious reference points it’s tempting to write him off as a well-versed copycat, but upon seeing Lekman in person it’s hard to imagine him as anything other than sincere. As soon as he stepped on stage he promised to perform exactly 12 songs in honor of the beautiful countryside surrounding us. Accompanying Lekman were six gorgeous, presumably Swedish, female musicians decked in white, who, over the course of the night, would play trumpet, trombone, saxophone, tambourine, cowbell, piano, accordian, bass, and snare drum. Occasionally he would play his iPod for a backing track. Suddenly, it was a party!

 

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Boys were cha-cha-cha’ing in the rafters, lovers started serenading one another, and Jens Lekman was singing upbeat tunes in his sad voice, barely needing to strum his guitar for effect. The band hopped through songs like “A Sweet Summer’s Night on Hammer Hill,” “The Opposite of Hallelujah,” “There is a Light,” “Pocketful of Money,” “Julie,” “Black Cab,” and even a new song called “A Postcard to Nina,” in which he recounts an uncomfortable dinner with Nina’s father in Berlin. In the song, Jens pretends to be engaged to Nina, who is actually dating another woman, in order to appease her father, who is over eager to welcome Jens to the family. Meanwhile, and mournfully, Jens falls for Nina.

Lekman pens plenty of witty scenarios and turns of phrases in his songs, much like this clever verse in the solo-performed “A Man Walks into a Bar”: “Summer night on a gravel road, you told me ’bout your childhood friend Veronica, who was claimed to have swallowed a toad, and I picked up my harmonica,” at which point he blows into his harmonica. “I can’t play the harmonica,” he laughs after the poor effort; the crowd laughs with him. Despite the buoyancy of the party songs and the balloons unleashed on the loving dancers in the crowd (too late, he apologized, since he was just about finished with his dance songs), Lekman sounds most comfortable playing by his lonesome, reflecting on his night once the party’s over. Even when he broke his A-string and needed to retune, he started up a cappella with “Tram #7 to Heaven,” off his first album, “When I Said I Wanted To Be Your Dog,” which, for the record, did not count against his set limit of 12 songs.

The evening came to a conclusion with just Jens and his guitar playing “Maple Leaves,” the climax off of the Secretly Canadian compilation of his earlier singles and EPs, Oh You’re So Silent Jens.  Amidst rumors that Lekman would pull out of the music game entirely and retire to the working world, it was a pleasant surprise to see him and his entourage of spectacular backing musicians in the middle of his all too brief two-week American tour.

Photos, videos, links, mp3s, and comments are all below. What more could you ask for?

VIDEO: Jens Lekman, playing “A Sweet Summer’s Night on Hammer Hill” in Cleveland the night before.
VIDEO: Jens Lekman, playing “Your Arms Around Me” yet again in Cleveland.

MP3: Jens Lekman - “A Sweet Summer’s Night on Hammer Hill” (from Oh You’re So Silent Jens)
MP3: Jens Lekman - “Julie” (from “When I Said I Wanted To Be Your Dog”)

Frida Hyvönen’s home page
Jens Lekman’s home page

-Posted by Todd