Oh, You're So Silent Jens

[This isn't published, nor has it been edited yet. This was the first show I ever attented by myself and I had such a great time. I'm going to do it often - I've made that promise to myself. This is my review of the Jens Lekman show on Nov. 10, 2007. I reccommend you start listening to this Swedish phenomenom, if you haven't already. :) ]


If Jens Lekman is the social pariah of the Swedish Invasion, then the Troubadour, on that Holy Saturday Sabbath, was a welcoming congregation of his rapidly growing group of followers. Standing beautiful and devastatingly awkward on stage, in a place I’d like to call my home away from home, he inaugurated his sermon with a hymn, aptly titled, “The Opposite of Hallelujah.”

This man has sampling chops on par with Dr. Dre and The Beastie Boys and openly exposes the source of the songs’ familiarity when he sings a Chairmen of the Board line, “Give me just a little more time” in the middle of “Hallelujah.” Although the average listener is not likely able to pinpoint Left Banke’s “Walk Away Renee” looping on “Maple Leaves” or “Plan B” by Dexy’s Midnight Runners on “You Are the Light,” it was the few diehard fans that gazed up at Lekman that night who could truly enjoy such mental masturbation. What was even more impressive was that, for an artist who relies so heavily on the craftsmanship of a turntable, there were a surprising number of musical instruments utilized – all of which were played by strikingly beautiful European women. An accordion, saxophone, keyboard, flutes, violin, viola, drums, guitar – even a triangle – were used to bring sampled recordings to life.


Lekman’s calming, low voice sings like Morrissey with a Swedish accent, but speaks like a mumbling young man who’s nervously in love. He tells his audience the story behind “Nina” – about a boy who pretends to be Nina’s fiancé as a favor to her parents who could never bear to know that their daughter is a lesbian. It’s storytelling like this that made the show truly interactive. At no point was the room not filled with clapping, snapping, dancing, singing, or laughter. Lekman even passed out tiny egg shakers to accompany him on the song “Pocketful of Money.” The crowd repeated the words, “I’ll come running with a heart on fire” in row-your-boat harmony.

For his encore he asked his followers if they’d like to dance. Of course we did, so he played “Friday Night at the Drive-In Bingo” and people moved like they were speaking in tongues. It was time for Lekman to leave, but he reluctantly walked away. “You guys are the best crowd I’ve ever had,” he blushed and we knew we weren’t being served an insincere line.

The proof came in much better form than assuming sincerity when he blessed us with a second encore. We cried our requests, even though he had already played everything we could have requested and more (“Black Cab, “Shirin”, and “Your Arms Around Me” to name a few). “I’m going to play a silly song,” he noodles on his hollow-bodied electric. “I hated the chorus of this song when I was little, and I especially hated Chevy Chase’s face in the music video.” I knew right away that we were about to hear “You Can Call Me Al” and my heart skipped a beat at the very thought. He expressed the love he found for the song when he learned English. Loveliness ensued. “A man walks down the street and says ‘Why am I soft in the middle? / Why am I soft in the middle? / The rest of my life is so hard.” As a favor to our preacher we pardoned Chase’s solo from the chorus.

Lekman christened us with Paul Simon and there was a look in his eyes that showed me he didn’t want to leave, but something told me there would be a second coming. Oh, you're so silent Jens, but we love you for it.
-r.rufrano