The Wake

I wanted to go gonzo with this article –-in order to pay homage to the late H. Thompson (if you don’t know who that is drop out of college. They’ve taught you nothing and you’ve wasted $20,000). However, Kings of Convenience don’t lend much to that whole flawlessly manic, mescaline-laced, militant scene. I guess we’ll just have to save my gonzo tribute for the first time I join the ranks of the rest of you brilliant drug-abusing college students (Gasp. She’s never used drugs? What has she been DOING for the last 21 years!?)

In fact, Kings of Convenience lean more toward the exact opposite scene. Composed of the quirky and seemingly brilliant Erlend Oye and the more reserved and yet visibly gifted Eirick Glambek Boe, the pair have conquered the world of mellow. Never heard of them? They occupy the same hall of subtlety as Nick Drake and Elliot Smith, and their sound has been compared to that of Simon and Garfunkel.

Smooth and sumptuous, their songs are music for the sake of music. For once, a non-mainstream band that doesn’t bother to desperately strive for the “bad ass,” limit-testing image. Instead, the Norwegian duo writes music that echoes with simplicity and revisits the idea that there actually can be joy in the act of pure listening. Even the titles of their two wildly successful albums are drenched in an elegant, hushed tones (“Quiet is the New Loud,” “Riot on an Empty Street”).

There are no harsh sounds, no piercing volumes “just pure harmony and melody mixing into a kind of lush molasses “ moving around in the mind and eventually dripping from the fingertips of its listeners. A girl at the concert announced that it made her want to take her clothes off. It just makes me want to eat chocolate. Or molasses for that matter, whatever’s available.

Dammit, the concert. That’s what I’m reviewing, right? It was splendid, sublime. No, really it was. The two took the stage with a simple setup –-not relying on anything but the sound of their voices and their two acoustic guitars. When they began with those first few graceful notes there’s wasn’t much else in the world I wanted to be

doing. I’ve never been to a show with that much respectful silence.

Eirick, lead singer, announced that he was ill and wouldn’t be at full capacity. I couldn’t tell, but maybe I was just too mesmerized to notice the slight crackle in his voice. Erlend was so evidently peculiar 6 feet 2 inches with huge aviator shaped glasses. Red hair plastered to the right side of his head, sticking straight up from the left. Hilarious. Between songs, they broke up the intensity with that sort of subtle European humor –-perfect. The songs were taken about equally from the first and second album and the show ended with “I’d Rather Dance,” a song featuring Elrend in voice, dance, and um, bodysurfing. More hilarious.

The concert ended, and people slowly filed out looking ultimately soothed. I stuck around with my roommate - I wanted to finish my Blue Moon. Erlend came out from the back and a line formed, people looking for autographs. I shrugged my shoulders and joined them. My turn came: “Hi Erlend. I’m writing an article on you for The Wake. You wanna say anything?” He peered at me from behind the aviators (the size of his face). “Tell people to make an attempt at getting their news from international mediums.” OK, I said, happily. Thanks. (You see, I was as soothed as the rest of the audience)

I returned to my roommate and realized that I had left my beer sitting next to Erlend. I paid like 52 dollars for that thing, I thought. I walked past him to retrieve it and this time he looked at me in a way that made me stop. “You want to take Eirick and I out tonight?” Wow. Okay. Sure.

I sent my roommate home (come on, he would have been all awkward) and waited for them. Erlend retrieved me just as I took the last sip of my Blue Moon and we retired to their tour bus. What a pleasant

time. Conversation with them was soothing “in the same melodic and rhythmic tones as their music. Easy, relaxed. Gonzo journalism was the farthest thing from my mind. Eirick went to bed sick, and Erlend and the rest of his crew requested bowling. To Bryant Lake Bowl we went. Although he talked big game, Erlend sucked at bowling, which he well made up for by dancing to the lane every time his turn came. The girls next to us recognized him and screamed with delight, receiving in turn the attention they wanted. Their google-eyed male companion bestowed upon Erlend a wedgie unlike that I have ever seen. It was 2:00 a.m. and Bryant Lake kicked us out. We migrated to Hard Times Café and he bought me French toast and we talked more, continuing the melody. The night came to end and they dropped me off at home. Erlend demanded my number and address and he promised to send me a Kings of Convenience T-shirt. The music ended, and I slept better than I had in months.

I don’t really need to tell you to check them out, because I know you will. And don’t come at it with some sort of frat boy “this-is-some pansy-Norwegian shit, I-need-my music-to b-bad ass, I-ove 50 Cent,” attitude. Just try listening, for the love of God. Once you get it, you’ll thank me. I’ll let ya’ll know when I get that T-shirt from Erlend.