Vaudeville Mews, Des Moines, July 27 2006
Words by Jake Henneman//Illustration by Ryan Flynn
In Robert Palmer’s 1980s video “Addicted to Love,” Palmer is featured in front of four sexy supermodels “playing” the various instruments with expressionless features and tight black dresses. In Jens Lekman’s attempt to outdo the 80s songster, he brought out his band of six beauties, who also happened to be exponentially more talented. Tonight we wouldn’t as much get the singer/songwriter acoustic show he was more than capable of putting on. Oh no, tonight he was going to throw the instrument sink at us (we’re talking brass, piano, percussion, and madness). Not that a solo Jens would be a bad thing, but the full band version blows it out of the water, especially after two solo warm-ups, the crowd needed to be jarred. The second song of the set, “A Sweet Summer’s Night on Hammer Hill” did just that. Wherever Hammer Hill is I want to go and have my own sweet summer night because any place that inspires that horn-induced euphoria is a place I want to at least have a picnic or at least a small soirée. There was a wall of horns on stage right. Three dress-clad performers juggled saxophone, trumpet, trombone, shakers, recorders, pretty much everything short of tuba and glockenspiel. The horns delivered that kind of spontaneous exuberance that “When I Said I Wanted to Be Your Dog” and “Oh, You’re So Silent Jens” could have used a dose of. Those two albums are more laid back excursions of a lazy afternoon, but his live show is more of a busy carnival of color and poetic noise. He had a haphazardly placed hat teetering on the very top of his matted hair that would blow off whenever he decided to go on a smile-provoked twirl mid-song.

The rest of the Robert Palmer All Stars did their part as well. The pianist/flutist sat stage left, the bassist behind Jens, and the percussionist stood behind a bass/snare/bongo hybrid kit. The stage could barely hold all of the performers, but they managed the space allotted like veterans. Jens had his lazy moments in the blue glow of the stage. The encore featured a stripped Jens storytelling “A Man Walks into a Bar.” That’s what he ultimately is—a storyteller with a guitar. He has a charm (insert women in the crowd with mouths agape here) and a guy next door quality about him, especially on stage, that can’t help but bring a smile to anyone’s face, mine included. I mean, I too remember “Regulate” with Warren G in the sweet summer of 1993. He could be your best friend, your next door neighbor, or that laid back cousin you only see once a year but relish the opportunity. Lekman is the best thing to come out of Sweden since Bjorn Borg (albeit with less hair) and Swedish meatballs. Check that, the upside he brings to the table bests those other things, and with the performance he put on, it won’t be long until he is the chief export.

Frida Hyvonen ran through many songs from her debut release “Until Death Comes” due for American release on Secretly Canadian soon. She was in the perfect environment for her loungy bar room singalongs coupled with the occasional Carol King-esque balladry (such as the epic “N.Y.”). She has a multiple stage personality complex that can shift from fragile, to haunting, to sexy, to spunky, unpredictability all in the same song. “You Never Got Me Right” was like a big broken piece of glass. It was sharp and jagged, dangerous at times, but then again, you know that it is of fragile composition, allowing the viewer to pick it up and examine it if done so carefully. It was a highlight of her show and ranged from angrily shouting “such a lack of taste!,” to gently holding notes of “oh” with the beauty and grace of someone you know has felt what they are reminiscing about. It was just her and her piano. At times, throughout the show, it seemed as though she would be more in place behind the keys of a giant church organ, her hands rising and falling, punishing the ivory with the force of the a V8’s pistons. This was the haunting bit I was referring to. She would occasionally rear her head back dramatically scattering her white blonde hair every which way, or peer sideways from the mic and look a crowd member directly in the eyes as she spouted, “You loved me better than anyone.” Frida was more than capable of evoking any emotion she wanted from herself and the viewer at the drop of a hat.

Jennifer O’Conner turned in a workwoman-like performance in her jeans and black shirt that was intent on letting her songs speak for themselves, and they definitely had the power to carry her set. The songs were brilliantly simplistic, working with her more reserved stage personality. She and her electric guitar stayed stationary through almost the whole show, or rocked slightly back and forth. Occasionally she would venture a few steps to the side of her mic, but for the most part, the only motion was the ever present toe tapping, rhythm keeping. Most of her songs were serene strums through love and heartache, but occasionally she would break out the snarling dog from its cage and get her hands more confidently rising and coming down striking the guitar chords like in “Exeter Rhode Island,” which is sure to be a highlight from her upcoming Matador Record release “Over the Mountain, Across the Valley an Back to the Stars.” The small crowd that had gathered pre-Frida and Jens more than appreciated the show from their seats on the floor before the stage. Rarely does an audience get treated to three of the most talented up-and-coming songwriters in one night, but Des Moines featured a worldly performance worthy of anyone’s dollars, or Swedish krona for that matter.