Elias Rønnenfelt Live in Paris: Heat Below Street Level
I go to one of my favorite Parisian venues, Main Room, to see Elias Rønnenfelt perform on a Monday after work. It’s a colorless day that makes you wish you had an extra little something to alleviate the rigidity of the arrival of winter. I’m certain that this day will be turned around for the better, though, once I go in and feel the heat from all the other people who have had their Iceage tickets replaced by a double Elias Rønnenfelt show.
Iceage was supposed to perform during the Pitchfork Music Festival this very day, but due to a family emergency involving one of the members, the show has been replaced by the band’s frontman’s show, where he was accompanied by a drummer and bassist. I wasn’t complaining much. Though a fan of Iceage, I’ve always been more allured by the world of the artist’s solo work, whose poetic nature seemed to be more on display than it was within the ping-pong dynamic of a band. Rønnenfelt’s voice has always pulled me in due to its sentimental nature, which is at times contrasted with heavier and more visceral sounds, whether it be his punk influences or a darker subject matter. I very much appreciate where he can take a song, and the different ways in which he can do so. It’s not uncommon within his discography to merge influences, patterns, and textures.
As the night wore on, I realized that the only person on their phone was me, due to my reporting duties, which made me feel embarrassed for the first time ever. If that doesn't tell you everything you need to know about the sheer, almost extinct level of immersion this gig offered, I don't know what does. The familiar tug-of-war between the stage and the screen was nowhere to be found here. What a fucking rarity!
Photographs by Janset Yaşar, exclusively for Tonitruale
The other thing that I quickly realized was that Elias' sense of self doesn’t seem to be rooted in the past, neither in his artistry nor in the way in which he performs. He sings with heart and with great dedication to his craft. As he goes through the titles from his solo projects, it’s hard not to be impressed by the eclectic nature of his music, where everything seems to emanate from within. On songs that require velocity, he jumps around the stage with his left leg up, while he slows down to double as a sentimental poet on slow charmers like Close and Doomsday Childsplay. His presence radiates back into the crowd, where more than a handful of people have their eyes closed as they melt into the concrete floor beneath them. He has a way of commanding the public so effortlessly, without needing to resort to gimmicks or performative extremities.
Photographs by Janset Yaşar, exclusively for Tonitruale
As the first concert of the double show comes to an end, Rønnenfelt performs the heartfelt ballads, and now he is the only person standing on stage, his accompanying live band having dispersed onto the leather couches right under the stage. At that precise moment, I switch my spot, which is right in front of Elias, to a spot at the back of the concert to get a better picture of everything as it happens in real time. I feel quite touched, not only because of the evident profundity of the music, but also because of the little group of friends embellishing the venue, turning the factory-like cold basement into a playground smelling like cigarettes and glistening with spilled liquor. The people who seemed faintly intimidating in their ripped parkas and impossibly good haircuts now look like children reluctant to be called home. Outside, the cold is waiting, indifferent and enormous. But nobody seems particularly eager to meet it. Not yet. For now, there is magic and bodies leaning into one another.
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