Christopher Nosnibor
Whistles, hoots, and pipes welcome the sellout crowd as they filter in – very slowly, due to the intense security involving airport style metal detectors on the forecourt, and of course, bag checks, the disposal of any fluids, and enforced cloakrooming of said bags (once any bottles of water etc. have been confiscated). Having only frequented small shows for the last few years, I’d forgotten – or erased – this aspect of attending larger venues, and it strikes me as sad that this is the world we live in now, and I drink my £8 pint very slowly indeed. But tonight is a night where it’s possible to distance oneself from all of the shit and recapture some of what’s been lost, however fleetingly.
Jo Quail, who never fails to deliver less than stunning performances, commands the large stage – and audience – with a captivating half-hour set, which opens with ‘Rex’ and swiftly builds an immense, dramatic, layered sound with loops continually expanding that sound. There’s no-one else who is really in the same field: with the innovative application of a range of pedals – not least of all a loop – she makes her solo cello sound like a full orchestra, with thunderous rumbles, percussion and big rock power chords all crashing in.
Jo Quail
It’s a new song called ‘Embrace’ which is the second of her three pieces, and she closes with ‘Adder Stone’ from 2014 LP Caldera, which would subsequently provide the mane for her independent label. The rapturous reception is well-deserved. Her richly emotive sound is certainly a good fit with Wardruna, and it’s likely she’s won herself a fair few new fans tonight.
While the place had been pretty busy when she took to the stage, the lights come up at the end of her set and suddenly, it’s packed. Thuds and rumbles build the anticipation for the main event.
Opening the set with ‘Kvitravn’, Wardruna immediately create a fully immersive atmosphere with strong choral vocals and huge booming bass, and it’s an instant goosebumps moment. Recorded, they’re powerful, compelling: live, the experience goes way beyond. The vibrations of the bass and the thunderous percussion awaken senses seemingly dormant.
Performing as a seven-piece, hearing their voices coming together, filling the auditorium and rising to the skies is stirring, powerful and infinitely greater than the sum of the parts. It’s the perfect demonstration of what can be achieved through unity and collectivism, and the multiple percussive instruments being beaten, hard, with focus and passion produces something that’s almost overwhelming, and goes so far beyond mere music… It’s intense, and intensely spiritual, too.
Wardruna
The sound is phenomenal, and it’s augmented by some incredible lighting: no standard spots or flashy lasers here: this is a magnificently considered and perfectly-choreographed display which works with the backdrop and the foliage on stage to optimally compliment and accentuate the performance. While I’m often somewhat unenthused by the larger-venue experience, preferring the intimacy of the sub-five-hundred capacity venue, this is a show that could only work on a big stage. Somehow, it’s the only way to do justice to music that truly belongs in a forest clearing, or on a clifftop, or on a glacier amidst the most immense and rugged vistas on the planet.
On ‘Lyfjaberg’, they achieve the perfect hypnotic experience, while dry ice floods the stage and lies about their ankles like a thick, low-lying forest mist, before Einar performs a solo rendition of Voluspá.
The second half of the set elevates the transcendental quality still further, as the percussion dominates the throbbing drones which radiate in Sensurround. This is music that exalts in the wind , waves, birds, trees – and the bear – and celebrates power of nature. It’s an experience that brings home just how far we have come from our origins, and a reminder that not all progress is good. Humans are the only species who adapt their habitat to their needs, rather than adapting to their habitat, and it’s a destructive trait. Even parasites strive to achieve a symbiotic relationship with their host, and a parasite which kills its host is a failed parasite because it finds itself seeking a new host. Without the earth, we have no habitat: we will not be colonising Mars any time soon, whatever Elon Musk says, or however much Philip K Dick you may read. But experiencing Wardruna live is the most uplifting, life-affirming experience.
Wardruna
They bring up the lights and bask in the rapturous applause for some considerable time, before Einar speaks on nature and tradition and the importance of song, before they close with funeral song ‘Helvegen’, illuminated in red with burning torches along the front of the stage. It’s a strong, and moving piece delivered with so much soul that it’s impossible not to be affected.
Wardruna
After another lengthy ovation, Einar dismisses the rest of the band and performs ‘Hibjørnen’ – a lullaby from a bear’s perspective – solo. After such a thoroughly rousing hour and a half, it makes for a beautifully soothing curtain close.
This was not merely a concert, and the performance, theatrical as it was, was not theatre, but a sincere channelling of purest emotion, a quest to connect the players with the audience and their innermost souls and their origins. It’s a unifying, and even a cleansing experience, a reminder of how we can all step back, breathe, and refocus. This was something special.
Aural Aggravation 