Susanne Sundfør, Hoxton Square Bar And Kitchen, London
- Written by Russell Warfield
Whether or not tonight’s set is part of a concentrated attempt by Susanne Sundfør to ‘crack’ the UK is unclear, but with the instant accessibility of songs like ‘White Foxes’ synthesising with her established eccentricities throughout excellent new album The Silicone Veil, it’s not a huge leap to say she has been successful in her mission.
Incredibly well known in her native Norway, Sundfør remains a comparatively unknown quantity over here, although an uncomfortably overcrowded backroom at Hoxton Square Bar & Kitchen signifies that her new clutch of material and the recent rerelease of her back catalogue might be nudging her towards some sort of tipping point.
Tonight’s set is comprised primarily from the material of the newest LP, opening with the album’s opener ‘Diamonds’, which lays out Sundfør’s key attributes: huge, pulsating electronic panoramas, along with a startlingly assertive vocal cut. The sound, although crafted by a modest clutch of players, is incredibly overpowering in its viscous swirl, delivered through a PA system which can thankfully step up to the task. Sundfør’s own voice soars across the mix incredibly gracefully and seemingly effortlessly. On record, she cuts like a diamond, some of her full-lunged bellows hitting an almost inhuman, icy shrillness that you suspect must be enhanced somehow, but tonight’s vocal performance proves otherwise. Shattering climaxes of songs like ‘Rome’ act as a vocal master class, in spite of its heightened vulnerability and humanism when replicated on stage.
One of the strongest cuts tonight comes in the form of brand new (Sundfør claims tonight’s airing was its very first) track ‘I Don’t’, and it draws a great deal of its strength from its continued move toward accessibility, and away from some of Sundfør’s earlier, wilfully contrarian musical instincts. Sporting a direct electronic riff and a recurring, immediately discernible vocal hook, the robust structure makes the song immediately inhabitable. Placed in immediate juxtaposition with the stripped bare ‘The Brothel’, the two songs act as a showcase of Sundfør’s incredible vocal versatility, but also casts her primary strength as orchestrator of thumping, electronic melees in sharp relief. Sundfør’s voice is almost so uncannily blemish-free as to flirt with being clinical, an attribute which doesn’t lend itself beautifully to songs which attempt to portray tenderness or invite empathy. Her faintly inhuman qualities cater much more healthily to her turns at massive pop with pulsating, bludgeoning backdrops – a direction in which tonight’s set ultimately points. In some ways a victim of the flawlessness of her own execution, Sundfør would appear to be that breed of artist whose move towards immediate gratification and accessibility actually corresponds with greater artistic achievement.