Picture it: The light is off; a dark blue image of a boxer in the middle of a knock-out punch projected behind the stage the only source of light. An instrumental track goes, minimalistic and hypnotizing. The heating band (The Real Jobs: Doomy, droney, prog and goofy—and that without being boring!) left half an hour ago, and the shipyard is packed. The minutes pass; the tension is at the ceiling. And there—the cheering announces that the band is about to go on. They grab their instruments and strike the first chord. This is the North Sea: Confident and steady, the instrumental is there at once, this characteristic Bergen indie sound (but somehow raweralmost posh); but no one John Olav Nilsen.
But in the count’s time, as the song is about to begin, and one is about to wonder if he has missed the quet, he is there: Legs in from the right, tackles the microphone stand, and already after first phrase, he has the whole shipyard in the palm of his hand. And he won’t let go until the last verse of the last song is sung.
This is John Olav’s strength: the audience. They sing every phrase, hum every chorus, jump to the beat and chant his name between songs. He lets himself be lifted, and he lifts them back: It’s like a dance between old lovers that I, who don’t know a single John Olav verse by heart, can never quite understand, but have been lucky enough to stumble upon tonight .
The North Sea sounds fantastic; John Olav sulked and staggered. Just as he is supposed to sound, in other words. I wonder if the vocal mix isn’t actually turned extra dry for to bring out these qualities in his voice?
Imagine if he were to sing”DO YOU REALLY WANT TO KNOW ABOUT D VÅTÆ” with a bell-like voice and a low larynx. It wouldn’t have worked!
When the band experiences some technical problems, John Olav says “Fortunately, I can only play the song“, and as his most famous opening line begins—”On nights like this I want to kiss the gun“—it boils over in the hall. And while the band works in the background, we are served a “Diamonds and Cherries” stripped down to just vocals and guitar, and there is a sing-along in the hall.
Behind me someone calls out to their partner”You can’t even hear the vocals!“, and I notice that they’re right. The mood is in the air, and I think that, well, this is how to deal with technical errors: Take us on the journey, and give us an experience that is both unique and memorable. And as a reward, when the song is over, we get it one more time—this time with a full band! No sour faces, no one complaining.
It is less elegant when John Olav introduces his latest songs. It goes without saying that songs released three months ago have a lower sing-along factor than 15-year-old (!) classics, but it’s just as if this weakens him, and he apologizes repeatedly. “I promise the docks this is the last time we will bother the docks with a new song“, he says, and I feel how my subconscious immediately prepares to be bored: He’s clearly not into this song, so why should I be? No: Rather, show me where proud you are of it! Convince damn me! Make me believe you actually think this is the best song you’ve written so far!
As expected, the audience is not particularly engaged either; there is talk, mobile phones, maybe a good opportunity to get a pint, take a trip to the toilet? Is he losing his grip on them?
But then the song is over, and one chord is all it takes to set the hall on fire again, and before I know it Verftet is screaming at the highest volume so far “ONE TWO THREE FOUR IF YOU DARE!!“. Not even the drums cut through this wall of sound. Bergen goes home hoarse tonight.
“THOUSAND. THANKS. THE MOUNTAINS. CITY!”, shouts John Olav, and with a grin from ear to ear you can see that he means it. The band leaves the stage, and I think that yes, one hour and a quarter is pretty much the perfect length. The audience does not agree: They demand more, but soon realize they won’t get it. And as I hear murmurs around me that the concert was shorter than expected, I wonder if they would have said the same if John Olav had only followed the norm, left fifteen minutes earlier, and played the last three songs after the crowd obediently demanded them back on stage.It is what it is the culturehowever gimmicky and outdated it may feel to the artist, and you defy the culture you will be punished.
With that said… People are sweaty, hoarse, grinning and laughing as they walk in a thick and slow train towards the changing rooms. After a dance like this, no one can say they didn’t get their money’s worth tonight.