Ólöf Arnalds Earns Devotees And Jonathan Richman Makes Eyes At His In San Francisco

By Author: venuszine
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Immediately following Ólöf Arnalds' stunning opening set at San Francisco's Swedish American Hall, Jonathan Richman—who had been in the front row the entire time—jumped onstage to announce, Whatever you paid for your ticket, it wasn't enough. Ólöf Arnalds is here. His words were clearly reflected in the freshly hypnotized gaze of the crowd.

Arnalds, who has won Record of the Year awards in her native Iceland, played in the band Múm, collaborated with Björk, shared bills with Dirty Projectors and Blonde Redhead, and been called "Reykjavik's answer to Kate Bush," put on such an arrestingly beautiful performance that she far exceeded her reputation on a near-spiritual level. It was just a shame that more people didn't show up in time to get (more than) their money's worth.

The small crowd that was there, however, was treated to an intimate performance full of honest smiles, gracious storytelling, and Scandinavian wit. Radiating kindness in a flowing indigo dress, Arnalds took a cue from the room and sang what she felt inspired by at the moment: her favorite Swedish song (naturally), ...
... an a cappella European folk song, an unfinished tune she wrote when she was 19 and missing her boyfriend, and a sampling of lilting acoustic ballads off both her Kjartan Sveinsson-produced albums, Við og Við and the forthcoming Innundir Skinni (One Little Indian).

One minute she had the audience transfixed into breathless silence, at another harmonizing with her on Crazy Car and chuckling at the song's humorous but sincere plea, Please be aware of the crazy car / Please don't go to America / Please, please think inside the box. While other songs like Klara were in Icelandic (and Klara the only recognizable lyric), these numbers were just as poignant thanks to Arnalds' tender vocals and whimsical yet commanding delivery.

After a brief intermission, Richman and his longtime percussionist Tommy Larkins took the stage to a room full of eager fans that spanned at least three decades. Though Modern Lovers goods were flying off the merch table, the proto-punk legend played the role of minstrel and drew inspiration from his There's Something About Mary character (Let Her Go Into the Darkness) while also singing songs about silence, en français (Silence Alors, Silence). Aside from his classic odes to painters, what's earned Richman such a cult following is his un-ironic sense of humor, timeless virtue, and candid sincerity. He looks at you with those beseeching, expressive eyes as if there are a dozen long-stemmed roses in his hands and all he wants is one dance.

Blurring the line between songs, vignettes, and conversation, Richman danced his adoring legions through tales of life and love, took them to the house of prostitution where a 19-year-old virgin was dragged by his uncle, and sang the praise of Keith Richards (Internal melodies and minor 6th harmonies—minor 6th harmonies, no one did that then!), as well as Matisse (Sa Voix Olive). Even when personifying sorrow and imploring the crowd not to cheat it by taking a pill on When We Refuse to Suffer, he managed to keep a smile on everyone's face.

Keeping things short but sweet by ending the second of the pairing's three-night residency on the early side (just after 10 p.m.), it's safe to say Richman made good on his opening statement and gave the crowd a pretty priceless show himself.