Kings of Convenience at Swedish American Hall

[Note: This is one of those posts that has been sitting as a draft for days but didn’t seem worth publishing. I think I’m realizing, though, that I’ve started this site as much for me as for anyone reading this. And I’d like to remember this show, however imperfectly. So here it is….]

I can’t stop listening to the sound
of two soft voices
blended in perfection
from the reels of this record that I’ve found.

Kings of Convenience – “Homesick”

We weren’t able to make it to the sold-out Kings of Convenience show at the Great American Music Hall last Tuesday. I was pretty disappointed until I fortuitously stumbled upon a radio interview with Erlend Øye just in time to hear that they had set up an additional show the next day at the more intimate Swedish American Hall.

If you haven’t heard Kings of Convenience before, you should know that they are an acoustic duo whose songs feature tightly blended harmonies. For that reason alone, it’s really no surprise that many of their reviews make some sort of comparison to Simon & Garfunkel. I guess that’s accurate to a point, but it would be better if you could imagine Paul and Artie as Norwegians. Who play Brazilian-tinged indie pop.

The concert was on the unusual side. Erlend had a cold, so he let Eirik lead the way in the early songs. They started off by requesting that the house lights be brought up and the spotlights brought down, as they wanted to be able to see the audience. After three such pleas, it was clear that their request was not going to be fulfilled, so they gave up trying. But as they were about to launch into their third song, the lights went out completely. Not only that, but their amps went out as well. After standing patiently for half a minute or so, waiting for any indication that the problem was being dealt with, they decided to go ahead with the song, offering us an unplugged, off-mic rendition of “Cayman Islands.” The audience was hushed and the acoustics in the wooden hall were pure enough that the sound carried beautifully. Halfway through this magic moment, the amps kicked back in. Moments later, a red spotlight bathed the stage. They finished the song to loud applause, but it set a zany tone for the evening.

It was a remarkably loose concert. They kept pulling friends out of the audience to perform with them (the night’s opener Leslie Feist [formerly of Broken Social Scene], Berkeley’s own Bart Davenport, and Simone Rubi of Call and Response). The garnet glow of the stage was constantly shattered by audience members’ flash photography. From time to time, Erlend would come out into the audience like a towering Nordic Andy Dick to goad us into singing or dancing along with him.

Despite Erlend’s illness and the chaos of the evening, it was a fine, fine show. And if you’ve made it this far and want to hear more from Erlend and Eirik, you can stream their latest album here.