A good day for Laneway

Event: St Jerome’s Laneway Festival 2013
Date: January 26, 2013 (Saturday)
Venue: The Meadow, Gardens by the Bay, Singapore

After my last few run-ins with the rain at various music festivals – Laneway circa 2011, Rockaway circa 2011, Urbanscapes circa 2012, to name a few – I was more than ready for another bout of mudfest over at this year’s Laneway Festival. Fortunately though, the sun hung high and bright that day, and a sunny day at a music festival definitely beats a rainy or gloomy one any given day.

But boy, was I not prepared for that!

Ugh.

And whose bright idea was it to not allow umbrellas in the premises? A sunny day at an outdoor music festival, but umbrellas are not allowed. Hellllooo…! A little ridiculous, innit?

Despite that, I thought The Meadow at Gardens by the Bay serves as a more accommodating festival venue this year, compared to the previous years at Fort Canning Park. If you’re not happy with the on ground food and beverage choices, a ten minutes’ walk away at the Supertree Grove is a great selection of food with comfortable and proper seating areas. Not to mention, the option of proper toilets instead of the usual mobile ones.

Fine, call me high maintenance, not diving into the deep end of a music festival experience and all, but hey, there is only so much unwrapped sanitary pads you can take in the stinky confinements with floaters still hanging about.

Photo credit: Rizki Maulana // The Spool

Norwegian indie folk duo Kings of Convenience started things off on an easygoing note, with beloved numbers like Mrs Cold, 24-25 and I’d Rather Dance with You. Although I have seen them previously three years ago, it was a different experience this time around. One that mirrors a calming island retreat with lapping waves and fluffy clouds rolling over the gentle sunlight. Whilst the songs may still be the same, the ambience was not, and Erlend Øye and Eirik Glambek Bøe proved that their music is suitable for any kind of mood, in a dark auditorium or out in a sunny day, rain or shine, night or day.

Photo credit: Rizki Maulana // The Spool

Photo credit: Rizki Maulana // The Spool

If you want me to be honest, I was just at Laneway this year for Of Monsters and Men, and despite being a fairly new fan to their music, (I mean, I ran into lead Ragnar “Raggi” Þórhallsson and drummer Arnar Rósenkranz Hilmarsson without even knowing it was them, until I recognised Arnar’s frills onstage), I never knew I would be so glad to see them live that day. I would have to say, this Icelandic five-piece carried the most responsive crowd at the festival. Everyone was singing along to favourites like Little Talks and King and Lionheart, punching fists in the air with the strong “Hey!”s

Standing upon a better vantage point at the back, and seeing the crowd down below by the stage, it sent goosebumps across my skin and made me smile – it was a beautiful sight. Despite the crazy sun hanging above us by that time, and the heat creeping up our spines, I could not have thought of a better place to be then. It was great to have caught them performing, even if it was just for a while, and I would gladly catch them live again performing a full concert set.

By the time Nicolas Jaar went onstage, I have had about enough of the festival, sitting under the hot sun without shade for some five hours straight. We retreated out past the festival entrance, where they were some shades and just lied there, staring up at the whispering trees. From the inside, the light breeze carried out to us Jaar’s drowsy and hypnotic beats, which sent us off easily on an agreeable shuteye, before we headed back in once again.

The megalomaniac Marina Bay Sands standing proud in the background of Laneway Festival, and the Supertree Grove nearby lit up as night falls, and American psychedelic rock band Real Estate welcomed dusk with music that reminisced the soothing beachfront, before bigger festival acts like Englishmen Alt-J, second Laneway timers Yeasayer, Aussies Tame Impala, and last but not least, at the stroke of midnight, all hands were on deck for Belgian/Australian Gotye, and his ever popular catch, Somebody that I Used to Know.

But by then, I have had enough for the day, and was more than ready to head back to the hostel and call it a day. I was pretty much wandering about outside when Tame Impala performed, and I laid on the grass once again, staring up at the stars and the moon, as Bat For Lashes played Laura.

Photo credit: Rizki Maulana // The Spool

All in all, it was a great Laneway instalment. Indie music fans went home tired but satisfied with the year’s line-up, and for some, me included, not so satisfying tanlines. Clearly, I have yet to build up a stamina for a full 12-hour straight music festival, but I definitely would not mind patronising Laneway again the following years, hopefully with more like-minded music friends, and make the most of the festival.

More photos from the gig taken by Rizki here.

Glory, glory, Kings of Convenience!

Event: Kings of Convenience live in concert
Date: March 21, 2010 (Sunday)
Venue: Bentley Music Auditorium, Wisma Bentley Music

Sunday afternoon’s torrents of rain slowly came to mere drizzles. All over the country, thousands of football fans flocked to their nearest mamak stalls to watch the live match, emanating bouts of cheers heard throughout the neighbourhood with every hit and miss.

Whereas, a minority of some 1,000 fans travelled from all over Klang Valley – perhaps even the country – to an unusual concert venue just to see two Kings who came all the way from Norway. People with bobbed haircuts and oversized horn-rimmed glasses and too short hems of jeans, speaking fluent Cantonese with their similarly styled friends, as they sauntered into the venue. Not to be stereotypical, but I did not realise Kings of Convenience would actually attract a sold out crowd, let alone those who would prefer not to converse in English.

Security was strict that night, especially when it comes to cameras. Later, we found out that it was the Kings’ special order to tone down on the photo-snapping, even though they were flash-less. Something to do with the tiny clicks the cameras make. Erlend Øye asked fans to not take pictures in the first 30 minutes, but thereafter, it was up to our fancies, with the double-edged undertone of “that is, if you don’t mind bothering the people next to you.”

But, being Malaysians, cameras were still sneaked into the venue right under the bulky security’s nose. Some were iffy at first, whether or not to lift up their cameras after Erlend’s request. But eventually, the snappers let loose, Blackberry units with red blinking lights recording song after song – like little assassins, as if waiting for the right moment to strike the Kings down.

As jesters of the evening to entertain the crowd before the Kings took the stage – Tenderfist, a local synth pop group, which I am quite happy to say, sounds pretty close to The Postal Service. Why the world said Owl City ripped The Postal Service off, was beyond me, especially seeing that it is doubtful Adam Young even know who they are. But after hearing Tenderfist for the night, I am glad that at least someone – not to mention, someone from Malaysia – is doing things the right way. Ben Gibbard would be proud.

They were unlike any Kings in the world. Humble and modest, so much so that they opened their show with My Ship Isn’t Pretty – nothing too upbeat, just something as simple as the plucking of the acoustics to ease us in.

Erlend Øye kept the crowd close to his heart, pleasing us quite easily whenever he struck a few dorky dance moves ala Napoleon Dynamite in Sing Softly to Me, or doing his amazing trumpet imitation in Second to Numb, or got us snapping our fingers away and singing in a choir in Little Kids.

Eirik Glambek Bøe was less mobile as he had his own words to pay attention to. But he kept the crowd on little laughing frenzies speaking in Bergensk (I think), then blaming the sound system for speaking in such a foreign language to us.

Small jokes aside, Eirik kept us close to his heart too, serenading us with songs mostly from Declaration of Dependence, such as Me in You, Mrs Cold, Rule My World, and Boat Behind – which got the crowd singing along: “Oh woah woah woah woah / I could never belong to you / Oh woah woah woah woah / I could never belong to you.”

Also, not forgetting beloved ones from their earlier albums – I Don’t Know What I Can Save You From, Homesick (which quickly became a favourite for me), Gold in the Air of Summer, and of course, I’d Rather Dance with You, which they had Tenderfist up on stage again during the encore to play with them.

And what is a song about dancing with someone without actually, well, dancing with someone? Handpicked by Erland himself, a lucky fan got to go on stage to struck some Napoleon moves with him, and share his microphone singing, “I’d rather dance, I’d rather dance than talk with you / I’d rather dance, I’d rather dance than talk with you.”

Here is a video of it:

Personally, I thought that other song Kings of Convenience did with Tenderfist was better. I loved it when they got the crowd clapping along to Tenderfist’s synth pop beats and Erland pulling it in with his trumpet imitation and the lights in a colourful array projecting off the ceiling.

I loved that moment.

We had close encounters with the Kings after their gig. While we were smoking outside, a security guard escorted a timid-looking Eirik past the awe-struck crowd towards the loo, and then after that, Erland.

They were merely a breath away from me.

I guess this is what it feels like to be with someone of ‘royalty’ status – you just get starstruck and stand frozen in place, not sure whether to quickly whip out your camera, or open your mouth to say something – anything – and risk sounding like an idiot. I suppose days of mobbing fans were over too; security had only to whisper a quiet ‘excuse me’ to get through the crowd. No holding people’s hands were necessary, either.

It was a pleasure to be in the same presence with such Kingly figures, especially in a venue like Bentley Music Auditorium – spacious enough to house a lot of fans, but not too much that it loses its intimacy of such fragile bands. Well done, Junk and Soundscape Records. And of course, Tenderfist and Kings of Convenience themselves.

* Thanks Reta for helping to smuggle in the camera and take photographs during the concert.

The story of two kings, conveniently.

Hmm, things have been rather quiet around here, have they not? So, conveniently, I decided to write something regarding two Kings – Erlend Øye and Eirik Glambek Bøe – or better known as Kings of Convenience, to start things off again nice and easy.

A while back, on a not so special day, a few friends and I found ourselves shuffling through rough sands by a beach at two in the morning, and decided to plop down on them because we ran out of places to go. The hotel behind us was close, everything was close, and all around us pitch black save the dimly lit hotel. The waves were crashing – high tide, and the stars were out – two fell.

We sat there talking about recessing world economy while switching sitting positions when the legs had pins and needles. Half of the time, I thought to myself – we could definitely used some beer (which we eventually set out to get, really) and greens (it’s the beach, I think things like that) in a place like this. A friend played bad, bad, bad 80s music that did not fit the bill, and I thought of Kings of Convenience.

My point being: for me, it is hard not to associate Kings of Convenience with a beach setting. In fact, cashiers at CD stores should inform us, conveniently, after our purchase of Declaration of Dependence: “Here’s a complimentary beach to go with your CD. Enjoy.”

Unlike Jack Johnson, Kings of Convenience are quieter with their delicate string instruments that seem to be tiptoeing into the bedroom at three in the morning not to wake your parents, and their solemn voices like lullabies. They are a picture of a beach at night time, when insomniacs would stroll down, instead of a sunshine-y one with sands that burn and a perkily pecked surfer bouncing, bouncing, bouncing by.

Quiet is the New Loud paved the roads right for them as a necessary introduction to their music career and sound they are aiming to go for. Although things got a little complicated in Riot on an Empty Street – with additions of pianos and more complex guitar melodies and a queen named Feist, things pan out alright again in Declaration of Dependence with a slightly darker motif – a proper growth, I think.

Yet, after three albums, individualism is still capable of being instilled into every song. You cannot really find one song too similar to the other. I mean, yes, they are in the same languid mood and delicate tone, but you know – a convenient cliché-like metaphor coming up – kind of like crashing waves, or stars, or snowflakes. They still crash against the shores like they are supposed to, and they still fall on your noses (not the stars), like they are supposed to. But, no two waves or stars or snowflakes, under close observations, are ever the same.

Once upon a time, there were two Kings. Conveniently, they kept it simple, ruled a nation of songs with mere acoustic guitars and cellos as weapons of choice. Some songs were happy and some were rather sad. But the Kings held them all together well, like beaches with waves, nights with stars, and winter with snowflakes.

Conveniently, the two Kings will be dropping by Malaysia this Sunday (March 21, 2010) to have a concert, which I believe will be intimate, at the Bentley Music Auditorium. Unfortunately, tickets have sold out. But here, is Cayman Islands from their second album, Riot on an Empty Street, which you can download. Conveniently.