Sugar Club, Dublin
Agnes Obel is a name you can expect to hear a lot of in the coming months. A Danish pianist based in Berlin, Obel has been quietly winning a devoted fan base after releasing her debut album, Philharmonics, late last year.
On record, the tracks are sparse arrangements with a heavy emotional payload – Antony Hegarty and Obel would probably get on like a very thoughtful house on fire. Live, she delivers her songs with quiet confidence and charm, her vocal and piano accompanied with elegant interplay from cello player Anna Müller, who takes the odd effective diversion on guitar and melodica.
Obel's songs are bright and sparkling: rhythmic piano bass lines jog and waltz with purpose, beneath glittering textures on the top lines, while the cello plucks and bows with urgency and propulsion. Obel's tracks have an unerring, gentle drama and the set has the feel of an extended soundtrack, while she runs the gamut of emotions, from the gorgeous, accomplished pop of Just So(which got picked up by Deutsche Telecom for a major German advertising campaign) to the darker Riverside.
The introduction of a delay pedal has piano lines looping and swirling, bringing an epic quality to the set and hinting at other possible treatments for her music. These are songs reared on melancholy but the darkness is warm and autumnal rather than bleak and wintry. It’s difficult to find easy comparisons for Obel, which is probably what makes her music so intriguing. Her lighter tracks bring Leslie Feist to mind, but she never lets her performance completely off the leash, and resists the aggressive attack of the likes of Tori Amos. These are austere, beautiful songs, with steel in their slenderness and warmth in their heart. It is a sublime evening’s music that lures a sold-out Sugar Club to a strange and thrilling place that the audience has no interest in leaving.
