The New Wine, Kråkesølv @ Blæst
Trondheim, Norway 13th November 2009
Kicking off the double gig at Blæst (Trondheim) was Bergen’s very own fruit of the vine, The New Wine. Sharing a style similar to, and indeed often supporting, The Whitest Boy Alive the Bergeners claim to devour rock, pop and funk and project a groove that make ‘em shake their hips.
Raised from the incestuously, collaborative pool of musicians in Bergen, it would be easy to highlight the elements they have taken/inherited/been inspired by — however, these dogmatic references are quite dull and fruitless.
Opening rather safely, with a slow starter (sorry no titles given!), the first impression of these youngsters is one of slickness. With the vocalist outpouring a kind of new romantic, indulgingly melancholic howl, over a tight and spotless, suburban bedroom funk — with speckles of bitchin’ tribal percussion — the mood was somewhat tepid.
Towards the remains of the set I found myself prematurely summarising thusly: indeed a mixed bag, The New Wine is certainly enjoyable but not inspiring; they are stylish but not provocative; a compact live act presented by musicians mastering their instruments and decanting their sound the way they wish it to be served — albeit, a little lukewarm — but certainly not raising the room temperature.
Just then, there came a new sound from the bohemias, a turn to the darker side, a shade more techno, a shade less Brady Bunch. Picking up the crowd with an instrumental number, akin in parts to Casiokids, the groove became a little less anonymous. The masses voted with their hips and this vibe was sustained to the bitter end, with a few more up-tempo numbers. This was a strong finish to a pleasurable though initially pensive gig.
Their first single “Bridge” marks The New Wine’s second year anniversary, and was released this weekend.
With the strobes disassembled it was time to move on to Kråkesølv. This, much hyped, four-piece from the mountains of Bodø ascended the stage to rapturous applause and hooting. A quick census, conducted by the band, revealed the majority of this excitable and very young crowd to be of Northern and indeed fanatical stock.
Despite the geological connotations of the band name, Kråkesølv certainly do not rock — at least not in the traditional sense of the word. This band’s brand of music is all about delicacy, patience, innocence and tapered euphoria. With layered strings and subtle progressions the band can be likened in part to fellow Northerners Tuna Laguna — certainly in that post rock spectrum. Lyrical mumblings steeped in dialect may be difficult for many who were not raised in the land of the midnight sun to come to terms with, nevertheless, be assured that these lyrics are of the twee variety, in a manner akin to Belle and Sebastian (if they sung in Gaelic!).
In terms of sound, the second band of the night were certainly not as slick as the first, which the frosty glares and frantic gesticulations from the band members towards the hapless engineer clearly intimated. This could perhaps explain the somewhat stagnant and forgettable melody which the straining vocals offered. However, it occurred to me that this may be intentional, as a means to allow the vocals to flutter in the air, lingering in a fog of lusekofte clouds, rather than swoop and engage with the listener. Indeed, the whole offering was very charming; with soft humour between songs and a sing along and happy crowd — certainly the band should be satisfied despite various technical mishaps. However, I wonder if the positive crowd reaction was based on camaraderie rather than captivation — on a personal level, I found Kråkesølv somewhat guilty of pilfering my Friday feeling. Then again, perhaps I am just being cynical.
Photos: Rolf Anders Storset
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