AAVR Magazine

Heart Break Radio: Sondre Lerche at the Bowery Ballroom

Let me preface this article with this statement: I’m in a bad mood, and have been for a while now. It’s the unfortunate result of the Brown curse, which I will not go into in this article, which is meant to be a review of Sondre Lerche’s November 20th performance at the Bowery Ballroom. I would have waited to write this but a. we do not, at this moment, know how long it will take to reverse the curse, and b. I find that I tend to like my writing more when I’m being a horrible person. Enjoy!

If you haven’t heard of Sondre Lerche (LER-key), then don’t worry, I won’t judge you. I’m mean today, but I’m not that mean. I really recommend that you give him a listen though. Perhaps you’ve already heard him without knowing it: Lerche scored last year’s Steve Carrell-driven Dan in Real Life, and offered some lovely tunes to its soundtrack. The best way to describe him would probably be a modern-day Cole Porter, if Cole Porter were Norwegian, looked 12 but was really 27, and liked to break stuff. I know—awesome, right? He’s also totally dreamy, in that I-just-want-to-take-you-home-and-make-you-a-sandwich-because-you-just-always-look-hungry way. But, um, for us deep, dedicated listeners with substance, that doesn’t really matter.

So let’s get the tough part over with first. Opening act Sylvie Lewis arrived on stage to little clamor. Of course, being an unknown singer-songwriter, one can’t really expect much rousing applause upon one’s entrance, but Lewis was especially reserved, to the point where no one knew she was Sylvie Lewis until she broke into her spoken-word introduction. Oh yes, I did say spoken word. It had something to do with birds and windows and the repetition of the phrase “tell them, tell them” (WHAT do you want me to tell them?!), but pretty much all spoken word has to do with that crap. Even though I don’t think I’ve ever experienced this sort of opening, her intro somehow seemed like it had been done before. The fact that she forgot what she was saying mid-poem didn’t help matters.

So anyway, out walks Ms. Lewis, in a light blue sweater and jeans (on a separate note, I really really really don’t like patches on jeans), and the first words out of my mouth as I turn to my friend Kelly (what up Kelly!) are “she looks like a regular person.” And boy do I love me some regular folk. The second set of words out of my mouth is “I like her already.” That, unfortunately, very quickly changed. Her songs seemed either very contrived or very nonsensical (though not in the Tenacious D way, in the bad way), with titles like “Old Queens, Monet and Me,” about, as she described, crying to gay men about the destruction of one of her relationships. That is not nice. To make matters worse, when she realized she was tanking with the audience, she busted out an “Obama won, guys,” which sounded like a half-assed ploy to get her largely Democratic audience to actually cheer for once. Way to jump on the Bam-wagon, lady. That was mean, I know. Brown curse, blah blah. If you’re into blonde, quirky female folk singers, I’d say to check out Charlotte Martin instead, who opened for Lerche a few years ago.

Before I go into my review of Lerche’s set, I should say that I’ve got a little bit of history with the man. I’ve seen him live every year for the past four years, and we’ve had our ups and downs, Sondre and me. I’ve followed him to Irving Plaza, to the sweaty, cramped corner of a Williamsburg record shop (he was performing, I was not stalking him), to the Union Square Barnes & Noble, and to an Urban Outfitters in the West Village (he was not performing, I was stalking him). This set was, without question, an up.

Our view was fantastic, mostly because I made sure to shove Kelly to the front of the stage once doors opened. Lerche hopped onstage with his hands in his pockets like a boyish, mischievous Mr. Rogers, picked up an acoustic guitar, and launched into an up-tempo brand-new gem called “Heart Break Radio.” Any doubts I had that this solo performance would be lacking—Lerche typically plays with a fantastic backup band known as The Faces Down—were quickly erased. Even a rude, annoying drunk heckler who felt the need to repeatedly badger the performer with “funny” comments about Swedes– who, apparently, are the Norwegians’ sworn enemies—couldn’t ruin an astonishingly lively set. Lerche switched between an acoustic and a bright-blue electric guitar, which he played the hell out of. Don’t believe me? Check out one of his many rad guitar solos, which I was lucky enough to get on tape.

Insane, no? The song’s called “Airport Taxi Reception.” Most of the solos lasted even longer than this one, convincing my fellow concertgoers and I that this experience was worth the hour-long wait (Though, Madonna, I have a bedtime and a job. Maybe next time we start when we say we’re going to?) and the beyond-reasonable ticket price. His clever banter and genuine appreciation for New York City (Lerche proudly announced at the end of his first song that it was “good to be home”) was charming, and his passionate thank-you to the country for “electing the right guy,” followed by a sly comment about his uncooperative guitar apparently supporting McCain, outdid Lewis’s unenthusiastic hoo-rah. Lerche even apparently picked up on my foul mood early on in the performance, dedicating “Everyone’s Rooting For You” to anyone in need of some good cheer. This throwback to the days of Chet Baker features an opening line of “Don’t be ridiculous sweet darlin’/It’s so unlike you to be blue/You had them the moment you walked in/And everyone’s rooting just for you.” I know! Adorable! And that’s coming from me! Me!

Lerche continued the cuteness with a rendition of a fan favorite called “Modern Nature,” from his debut album Faces Down (random fact: Lerche makes a cameo in Dan in Real Life singing this very song with original partner Lillian Samdal). Usually, since he performs this ditty solo whilst touring, Lerche relies on the audience to sing Samdal’s part, and we always oblige (yes, we, as in I participate). This time though, he saw it fit to drag Sylvie Lewis out. Whatevs man, I still sang along.

The only real downside for me was a new song called “Like Lazenby,” about Lerche’s wish to be just like the man who once played James Bond. Really, though, unless you’re Kanye West, you shouldn’t be name-checking in your songs. That could just be a personal preference though.

One of the coolest things about the show was the merchandise. Lerche personally burned and signed enough copies of an EP called “Pumpkin Polaroid Party”– containing demos for six new songs—for the entire audience. In addition, each EP contained a Polaroid picture taken either by Lerche or of him (I got a very cute one of him standing in front of a picture of the new Senate on Election Day). This was no small feat; the decently-sized venue was packed with fans, and while Lerche isn’t yet a sensation in the States, he does have a significant following in the US.

One of the most embarrassing things about the show was my behavior. While chatting up Sondre, I tore open my EP envelope and watched the color drain from his face. Kelly later informed me that I had torn off the song list so it was unreadable.

Sorry, dude. Sorry I ruined the EP you made just for me. Blame it on the curse, for I know not what I do.

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