#(like the sound at the start of Demolition is a flute played on a speaker and then recorded from far away in a forest)

[trevorbailey61]

Susanne Sundfør

Glee Club, Birmingham

Wednesday 14th March 2018

The stage had been erected along one side of the main square in the northern Spanish city of A Coruna. It was still early afternoon but clouds obscured the summer sun and a light drizzle filled the air. A barrier sealed off the area around the stage but neither this, nor the weather, deterred a group of about fifty who had gathered as close as they could to secure the best place for the show that they would still have to wait several hours to see. Their patience was soon rewarded, however, as various members of the band started to saunter out onto the stage, pick up their instruments and begin their soundcheck. Every bang of a drum, strummed chord or snatch of a melody was greeted with loud cheers from this dedicated group, carried over the gap from where they were held so that the musicians smiled and waved in response. A group of backing singers sang into hand held mics but the star himself did not appear, a stand-in took his place so that his entrance later would retain its spectacle. And spectacle it was, as darkness descended, the crowd had grown to fill the square and bright lights picked out the figures as those backing singers now added their voices in tightly choreographed moves always close to the main man. Even though we couldn’t even begin to guess what his songs were about, there was no doubting his stage presence as he reached out to the furthest parts of the vast crowd. They responded to every verse, every chorus, every movement with wild cheers; sang along to every song and took selfies to remind themselves and others that they were there. Whoever this guy was, in one Spanish city at least, he was huge.

Who he was: before wandering into the square that afternoon, I wouldn’t have had a clue and despite being carried along by the enthusiasm of those around me and the show itself, seven months later I can no longer recall his name. The few parts of his biography that remain tell me that although based in Spain, he was originally from Argentina and that his long career had occasionally brought him into contact with artists I have some familiarity with. Outside of that, however, he had written songs, recorded albums and toured without making the slightest ripple outside of those who share the same first language. With a huge potential global audience of Spanish speakers, it may appear that this would be enough but periodic albums where he sings in English suggest that he has tried to broaden this appeal. That these have been met with indifference is a sign of how difficult it is to translate success from one audience to another and as an artist well into his forties, it seems as if he will have to remain content with the passionate Spanish fans who filled the square in A Coruna.

Susan Sundfør is very popular in Norway. Classically trained, she has a keen ear for a range of musical styles that she puts together to produce a sound that is very much her own. Her albums show shifts in form and style to produce wonderfully varied music with just her extraordinary voice to show that they all originated from the same source. Despite continually wrong footing her audience, she has had four number 1 albums in her homeland and has a loyal and devoted following. Like many from the northernmost parts of Europe, she writes and records in English which means that, unlike our Spanish friend, she doesn’t have to balance interesting native speakers with broadening her appeal. Her previous album, “Ten Love Songs” looked as if it would provide the breakthrough; an unexpected leap from her folksy routes, it was her disco album; electronic beats, layers of synths and joyous uplifting melodies that helped to disguise the failed relationships and emotional turmoil found in the words. It was certainly interesting and at times exhilarating but possibly a little knowing in its adoption of the bittersweet norms of Scandi pop. In writing all the songs, playing most of the music and producing the album, Sundfør piled the pressure on herself and at a time she should have been taking the music out to the audience she sought, suffered a nervous breakdown. Whilst this could be seen as a missed opportunity, she could at least draw on the depths into which she fell to make another musical leap to produce the stark and brooding “Music for People in Trouble”, most of which she will perform tonight.

As she tells us, this is her first visit to Birmingham which means that I am probably alone amongst those at the Glee Club in that I have seen her before. This was about three years ago at Latitude, one of the few UK shows she did to promote “Ten Love Songs” and dressed in bright colours and with glitter on her cheeks, she was very much the glam pop princess. In contrast, tonight sees her all in black, an oversize pinstripe jacket covers her dress and she will occasionally wrap herself up by folding her arms and pulling the lapels across her chest; a little insecurity perhaps finding its way into the confidence with which she presents herself. So assured is her English, there is just the slightest hint of an accent, it is a surprise when she slips into her first language to explain some slight adjustments she wants in the sound. She feels the songs can speak for themselves and rather than explain their origin, between them she lightens the mood by reflecting on their recent travels and asking for advice on what to do during the morning they are to spend in Birmingham. When no one in the audience can come up with anything she chides us that we should show more pride in where we live. She does, however, pick up a little Brummie and repeats the words “alroight bab” after they were suggested as an example of the local dialect. Well into her tour now, the atmosphere is relaxed and easy going drawing us in to the sparse and sometimes harrowing songs she is here to perform.

The tone is set with the opener, “Mantra”. Seated, Sundfør accompanies herself on an acoustic guitar, often picking out just single note rather than putting them together to form a chord. Alongside the fearsome power and startling range of her voice, this minimal setting works to such a haunting effect that there is a moment of silence as the last few notes reverberate around the room where the audience take a moment to fully process what they have just heard. Throughout this, the two musicians with whom she shares the stage stare at the keyboards in front of them before adding a few embellishments towards the end. The set rarely strays from this understated sound and as Sundfør seems more than capable of adding the guitar or piano accompaniments, it is tempting to wonder whether she really needed anyone on the stage with her. They do, however, allow her to occasionally add her vocals without also having to accompany herself and provide strings or solos on the flute or bass clarinet as a counter to the devastating vocals. “Mantra” slowly reveals itself, sounding almost optimistic at the start where it is possible to bask in a bright summer’s evening as she sings; “I’m as lucky as the moon: On a starry night in June”. The shift in attention from the imposing disk of the moon to the heavens beyond, however, releases the self doubt that is the main feature of her recent work; “I’m as empty as the Earth; An insignificant birth”.

Whilst gorgeous melodies and lush orchestrations of “Ten Love Songs” helped to disguise the pain in the words, and also invited comparisons with Abba, now, with a greater prominence given to her voice, there is little to sugar coat the message. This painful soul searching is reminiscent of John Grant, a comparison given greater sway as he adds his vocals to the final track on “Music for People in Trouble”. Like Grant, much of Sundfor’s self worth is determined by the actions of others towards her and when they let her down, as inevitably they will, she directs the pain inwards and towards her own frailties. “Undercover” takes a cynical view of the motives of the other; “Don’t trust the ones who love you; Cause if you love them back; They’ll always disappoint you; It’s just a matter of fact” into a fantasy where; “We could live our dreams; we'd sail on golden wings”; the piano accompaniment moving from the minor chords of the reality to the uplifting melody of the fantasy. In just three verses, the slow and haunting “Good Luck, Bad Luck” brutally dissects the superficiality of a former lover; “Freeloader wisdom from the books he never read”. Coming from her excursions into the world’s trouble spots, during her recent sabbatical she visited North Korea and the Amazon rainforest, “The Sound of War” is a stirring description of the bleak landscape left after the killing has finished. Similar in tone to PJ Harvey’s “The Hope Demolition Project”, Sundfør’s clear and ghostly voice perfectly captures the horror of the scene. Possibly the starkest expression of the place in which she finds herself is the crushing “No One Believes in Love Anymore”, performed as the first of two encores. Against the backdrop of a delightful melody, played to stunning effect on the flute, Sundfør finally confronts her inner demons which, in turn, by the end of the song allows her to find some hope as she returns to the moonlit scene of the opening song; “Looking up at the Moon, up at the Moon; We’ll all get there soon, looking up at the Moon”. The theme is developed further in the up tempo “Reincarnation” where she finds the sprit within herself to move on.

“Ten Love Songs” is not ignored completely but the two songs that she draws on, “Silencer” and the final encore “Trust Me”, are those that can be stripped back to the same stark setting. “Trust Me” in particular emerges all the better without the waves of synthesised strings in the background. Her earlier work, however, is a better fit and “Can You Feel the Thunder” and “White Foxes” need little reimagining to find a home. It is one of her earliest songs, however, in “Walls” that has been rearranged most brutally. Accompanying herself at the piano, she has stripped away the rather predictable chords changes and flourishes she originally used to create something far more interesting.

Sometimes musicians need a sudden shift to help define their career and Sundfør has already been through many. The synthesised Abba pop of “Ten Love Songs” was fun but she possibly felt that the spectacle was a distraction fro the songwriting and in taking it all back to its basics, the focus is very much on the songs. They are more than capable of holding the interest without all the embellishments and show a raw emotional heart that can be quite painful. Despite the dark nature of much of the music, the uplifting melodies and her own humour helped to make for an inspiring evening. Tweeting after the concert, one person noted that the music would not seem out of place at Symphony Hall and whilst it is possible to see what he is getting at, it would then have lost much of both its intensity and intimacy, something that helped to make the evening so special. The breakthrough to play a venue that size is probably still some way off although the nearly full Glee Club showed that, unlike our Spanish friend, she is developing a large audience outside her homeland. It will be interesting to see whether her next step will be back to easily accessible pop or something as raw and emotional as where she currently finds herself.