A night with Olafur Arnalds
February 5th, 2011 § Leave a Comment
Last night, my friend Zet (greet her a happy birthday!) and I watched Olafur Arnalds at the Echoplex (LA). There are three things I liked about the show: the storytelling visuals, and music with a spirit – the latter leading to my third point, which is pretty much about music becoming more than just music.
Playing live music with visuals has always been a dream. It has been my vision for my music. I have always wanted to do something like that, as a supplement to our live material. It was going to be good, considering I always played in the form of a wall of sound (with a band); surrounding a cafe or bar so much that it blankets the ambience with reverberating emotive melodies. Too bad we did not have money for it.
Olafur Arnalds, last night, showed me the power of visuals when tied with music. His visuals weren’t just supplements to the music; as a matter of fact, the visuals held a storyline along with the music. It was hand-in-hand, as if one couldn’t live without the other. I loved the motif, which was mostly flying (planes, birds), and falling down (rain). I had to close my eyes once in a while, trying to digest everything all at once. The soft sounds. The flights. The fears. The joys of letting go.
In terms of music, what I admire the most about Olafur Arnalds is his ability to capture stark emotions and turn them from bitter to bittersweet. His use of dark tones, followed-up by his sweet string quartet arrangements, make listening to his music a rollercoaster ride. I can’t believe he’s only 24 and he’s already accomplished such a feat in music. The bipolar factor of his music is an asset; something one wouldn’t turn down easily. My favorite aspect of his music was his use of reverb. It was as if reverb was elementary to his music, creating a soundstage that was watery and cold.
Lots of things happened in the show last night; emotions were felt and stories were told. But after everything, I realized why listening to Olafur Arnalds was so important to me – it was because his music was beyond music. He was telling stories. I could hear the notes being born simply as rhetorics, simply as little things that sounded good in his head, then turning into surreal arrangements. I could hear his creative process through his timid voice and the way he caressed the keys on his piano. His music became himself, and he became the music.
I believe that people and their potentials have no limits. If you tap into that energy and translate it into something beautiful, such as music, it can’t be destroyed, considering it came from an infinite source. Last night, Olafur Arnalds showed me the meaning of that – how his humanity transposed to music, and how his music touched people in the audience like me. He also proved to me why it’s worthwhile to stay in sometimes and just play the piano because eventually, it’s going to teach me how to fly.
