Review: Agnes Obel, Anson Rooms

The suddenly popular Danish concept of Hygge (meaning to create a nice, warm atmosphere around you despite the cold outside) seems quite appropriate to describe Agnes Obel’s music. It felt like we should all have been sitting in tall armchairs beside roaring fires at the Anson Rooms on Saturday evening. Unfortunately, due to a sell-out show, we were stood shoulder to shoulder as four musicians walked out onto stage. Based in Berlin, but originally from Copenhagen, Agnes took her place at the centre keyboard, with the three other women taking up two cellos and an electric drum kit.

The first half of the performance was dedicated mainly to tracks from her latest album, Citizen Of Glass, on which Agnes expands the sound past the piano led songs of her first two albums, and into deeper territory using cellos, old electronic keyboards, percussion and an array of other odd instruments. It was great to hear this expanded sound as they kicked off the set with Red Virgin Soil, complete with chugging basslines, and a demanding, urgent string section. The instrumental song came to a close with a stage blackout (as, dramatically, did every song), and was the perfect way for us to enter into the fantastical Scandinavian world of Agnes Obel’s music.

The three other musicians on stage constantly swapped their instrument of choice. Cellos were swapped for violins, the drummer also played clarinet and bass clarinet, and a ukulele even made it onto stage. This gave each song such a slow depth and brought the songs into a live setting that was entrancing. Agnes’ whispered lyrics were more hypnotic than ever as the three other female voices harmonised, elevating the soft tone of the songs above the menacing strings.

The stage was flooded in super bright blue and purple hues. Reflecting the chilly climate in which the songs were written, occasionally switching to a dark red lighting from underneath for the more mysterious songs like The Curse and Stretch Your Eyes.

Agnes moved to a more traditional upright piano for a number of older tracks from her first two albums. The mood then moved away from the more intense dramatic and layered sound of the first half, to a more whimsical, fairy tale setting. Agnes’ deceptively simple knack for writing captivating piano melodies came to the forefront for Fuel to Fire and Philharmonics, and were accompanied by gentle backing vocals and subtle cello playing.

The Eponymous Citizen Of Glass saw the main chunk of the performance come to a close, filling the room with a methodical melody that sounded like it was straight out of the score from a Scandinavian murder mystery. Luckily for me, the encore consisted of the song that I had most been looking forward to hearing that evening, Riverside. Disguised by an elaborate piano intro, the crowd came as close to bursting into applause as you can at an Agnes Obel performance, in that they quietly gasped. The final song was On Powdered Ground, probably the highest energy song of the night and a fantastic way to end. With a catchy, powerful refrain in the chorus, and a strong saxophone drone underneath, it built to a climax of high tension, quivering cello notes, the piano riff faded into the background, and with one last scream from the strings, they took a bow, and exited the stage, leaving everyone stunned.

Photographs by Sarah Koury