Kings of Convenience

A pilgrimage. For two soft voices, blended in perfection. Our journey to hear the Kings proved to be a surf and Scandinavian fantasy of intimate proportions.

When Rip discovered that Erlend Øye and Eirik Glambek Bøe, the Norwegian duo known as Kings of Convenience, would be performing a one-off show in Hollywood, he called The D Man late at night and said something cryptic like, "They are here." Somehow, I knew what he meant. We promised ourselves years ago that we would travel anywhere in the country to see the elusive pair perform live. The ultimate one-day destination? The sunny coast of California. Without a new album to promote (or even any swag to sell), the Kings easily sold out the Music Box on Hollywood Boulevard. And we were with our people.

First, the surf. In the morning we hit the waves (or, more accurately, the waves hit us) at Hermosa Beach. We experienced the restorative power that occurs when body, board, and buoyancy intersect with the immensity of the ocean. At least that is what I imagined. When I said the breakers were coming hard, Rip noted that I wiped out in five feet of water. All joking aside, thanks to the hospitality of Bones Barry (a derelict contributor to this blog but an otherwise gracious host), The D Man and Rip enjoyed a brilliant day on the beach.

Next, the show. The Kings of Convenience are, undoubtedly, one of our all-time favorite artists. Their music has been a consistent partner for the past decade, not unlike the duo's long-time friendship, creating a formidable companionship for drives, late nights, and early mornings. Their aesthetic vibe has long held our imagination on a deeply personal level. Supremely talented individuals, Erlend is a powerhouse DJ and fronts another fine band, The Whitest Boy Alive, while Eirek has an advanced degree in architectural psychology. But the two of them have established a caring, intelligent, and platonic artistic partnership. Eirek plays the foil of handsome sophistication to Erlend's awkward charm. Together, they are indomitable. Their last album, simultaneously serious and ironic, was titled Declaration of Dependence. Perhaps that is the meaning behind it all.

Luckily, The D Man and Rip share this same kind of chemistry. I saved the seats while he grabbed the Diet Cokes. To the show!

• My Ship Isn't Pretty. A brief aside about demographics. While the duo's music certainly evokes passing beauty, like an unfolding natural scene, there is also a cosmopolitan cool that is untethered from American folk idioms. The sound of the Kings is ultimately rooted in a Scandinavian, nonchalant sophistication. Not surprisingly, this exotic air has resulted in faithful followings throughout Europe, Latin American, and, significantly, Korea and Japan. Approximately half the crowd at the Music Box was Asian or Asian-American, which, fortunately, resulted in a receptive and respectful audience.
• Cayman Islands. Crystalline guitar escapism.
• Love Is No Big Truth.
• I Don't Know What I Can Save You From. A super hooky guitar hook. The Kings are teeming with a seemingly unending supply of superb guitar licks. On several songs throughout the night, the Kings "jammed" with extended and intricate precision.
• Peacetime Resistance.
• Toxic Girl.
• Second to Numb.
• Mrs. Cold. You lost me, deaf in my ear! Nothing you can say is going to change the way I feel!
• Thirteen. They played a great cover of Big Star's heartbreaker.
• Know-How. A great track from their second album, Riot On An Empty Street. The entire audience sang Feist's lines. Sheer simplicity!
• 24-25. This is just about as lovely as a pair of voices and guitars can be. The duo's deft lyrics of interpersonal relationships are always thoughtful, poignant, and honest.
• Boat Behind. The audience, of course, hit the chorus with little help. Wo, whoah-wo, whoah-wo! I can never belong to you!
• Misread. Perhaps the penultimate song from the "quiet is the new loud" movement. The duo's relatively quiet, minimal approach to songcraft results in an accentuated dynamism whenever there is the subtlest shift in volume, tempo, and rhythm. Each pick of a guitar string is an event met with anticipation. The practical affects of this phenomenon? When Erlend took off his cardigan in a fit of mid-song joy, the audience went wild.
• Rule My World.
• I'd Rather Dance With You. Nothing else like this. If this clever song doesn't make you feel good, your pulse has stopped. The opening band, Seth Pettersen & the Undertow, came out to back up this number so that Erlend could let loose and do his thing.
• Me in You.
• Little Kids.
• Homesick. The D Man has already waxed at length about the personal meaning of this song. The perfect closer.

Finally, the after party. The D Man and Rip went to the roof of the Music Box and, as fate would have it, rubbed shoulders with Erlend and Eirek. Erlend brought his lap-top and iPod and spun records as the beaming center of attention. ("If you don't clap after each song, there will be an awkward pause."). Eirek chilled with the small crowd and generously accepted our well wishes when we explained that we flew in just for the show. Having crossed paths with the man who had been staring at me from his record all of these years, well, it was worth the trip.