Review: Jeniferever, Cabaret Voltaire

Published on Friday 25 September 2009 09:42

Jeniferever *** Cabaret Voltaire

Musically, the Swedes have given us much to cheer about over the years. The Cardigans, The Hives, and, of course, Abba, are just some of the big names to become successful away from home. The Scandinavian country is also well known for IKEA, Bjorn Borg, and astronomer Aders Celsius, who invented the thermometer. However, it remains to be seen whether Sweden's latest export to venture across the North Sea – ethereal goth-rockers, Jeniferever –will make half as much impact in the UK as their musical predecessors.

Obvious fans of The Cure and any other type of music that involves staring at your shoes for an extended period, whatever these five, dour-faced laddies lack in terms of charisma and personality (rolling around in a bed of nettles and broken glass would seem more appealing than forcing a smile), they more than make up for in terms of explosive dynamics.

With no more than 40 people in attendance, though, the depressingly low turnout ensured there wasn't much in the way of an atmosphere. There was one eye-catching feature, though: a backdrop of fairy lights strung together to resemble what appeared to be the band's very own view of the stars and the constellation. On the stage, meanwhile, the band from Uppsala were busy airing their opening – and one-time NME Single Of The Week – number, Green Meadow Island.

Boasting an impressive array of big, souped-up amplifiers and fancy guitar effects pedals, with such a sonic artillery at their disposal, Jeniferever come at you as if you were watching them from within Murrayfield stadium – and not the small confines of Cabaret Voltaire. With a bass player either side of the stage, there was no shortage of low frequencies to be heard, and yet, with the added input of drums, two extra guitars, and a creepy sounding keyboard, the quintet proceeded to plough through their set in the same formulaic fashion. Start off with a slow, brooding sound- scape, explode into life mid-way through, then fade out the song, smoothly.

Playing just under an hour, the band bestow some mid-tempo tunes of the Snow Patrol variety (imagine the Glasgow-based chart-toppers had they grown up listening to gothic rock instead of indie music), but the tracks that were left stuck in your head were few and far between. Green Meadow Island sounds like an eerie soundtrack to some Norse fairytale gone wrong, From Across The Sea coming across as cold and bone-chilling as the North Sea itself. Singer, Kristofer Jnson, gives the impression he has . . . well, a few issues, if his slightly sinister lyrics are anything to go by. Nevertheless, the constant tuning and swapping of guitars between every single song did little to endear themselves to their few fans, either.

Fair play, though; those who did make the effort to come out the house did show their appreciation for the band who have been together since 1996. Judging by the applause, however, it appeared more out of polite courtesy than excited fervour. "Sadar" (so-so) as they say in Swedish.