Leaves are becoming crispy and the chill of night creeps ever earlier into the sunlight. Yes, it’s time to ditch the summery tunes and head for colder territory, and Trentemøller’s show at the Ogden was definitely a solid shiver.
The Danish group creates powerful, dark-tinted compositions with live instruments supplementing the heavy electronic wizardry of lead man Anders Trentemøller. Their sound is something Boulder can definitely get behind, a seamless mix of electric and analog that might be some combination of the instrumental/electronic fusion of Infected Mushroom with the Nordic touch of Röyksopp or even Sigur Rós.
If you are familiar with the more popular tracks “Moan” and “Silver Surfer, Ghost Rider, Go!” then you know Trentemøller can absolutely bring it. They made waves in the States this spring with their underdog set at Coachella, but for some reason they haven’t yet broken through with Boulder audiences, especially the electronic scene that already embraces electro bands.
What really makes them stand out is not their loudest moments but their most quiet, when Anders Trentemøller layers beautiful and simple webs of harmony into fragile honeycombs of sound. In a world where most electronic artists are relentlessly loud, the most exciting parts of Trentemøller’s music rest on the crystalline patterns of chimes that are like webs of bright glass.
Of course, Anders will then hurl a heavy synth breakdown right into it and turn complacency into chaos. Still, the focus rests on the beauty of the song, and that gives Trentemøller an indie edge among electronic styles that are viscerally exciting but otherwise dumb. No matter the “rage” factor of a given song, they succeed because they retain its exquisite tone and form.
The set’s first fifteen minutes were purely build-up, tense and beautiful layers of sound that constantly rose. The band even spent this time visually obscured by gates of ribbons that rose and fell in front of the band as well as behind and in between the band members, as the glow from bright lamps onstage cast shadows out into the audience.
Most of the remaining set was made up of songs that began and ended, but there was a present sense of improvisation and open-endedness that, rather than running out of momentum, would only pause to give the audience a chance to show their appreciation for the care put into the process. It was hard to decide whether I preferred the million small moments of beauty to be lost inside, or the driving “Vamp” that combined a grinding bassline with the projected image of Betty Page that flipped the emotion of the music from sentimentality to a grimy roadhouse striptease.
The Trentemøller experience is a rare breed of electronic indie. Anders is a brilliant composer with a self-loathing DJ streak, and he makes incredibly dark music, but performed in a happy, Danish sense. I don’t know if it’s a cultural thing for Danes to smile while playing music that sounds like the fleeting moments before death, but it seems to be something they can do well. The only other Danish band I’ve seen before (unless you include Metallica’s Lars Ulrich) is an indie group named Mew, and the thing I remember most was the almost cordial way they delivered a deep musical depression.
I knew I was in for something new when I saw two plain, black dress shirts at the merch booth selling for $120 and $150. They were “designer,” someone behind the counter told me, and had been specifically made for Trentemøller’s tour as this person indicated by pointing up and down his sides.
I told this to someone at the venue, and the response was perfect: “That’s some upper-echelon electro-goth shit right there.”
I found this especially funny because I was wearing a tall tee and a neon pink hat at the time. There might have been more leather at this show than I’m used to, but the crowd that Trentemøller drew was diverse in age and style to the point where it wasn’t obvious what a Trentemøller fan really looks like.
What did strike me is that the audience was very involved with what was going on. Eager to dance but willing to absorb, I think most were simply struck by the shadowy music and colorful presentation that sent chills down your spine. They capped off a great performance with a heartbreaking string arrangement and a harmonica solo (absolutely killer) into “Moan,” and I swear the temperature of the room dropped a few degrees.
