Hmm, things have been rather quiet around here, have they not? So, conveniently, I decided to write something regarding two Kings – Erlend Øye and Eirik Glambek Bøe – or better known as Kings of Convenience, to start things off again nice and easy.
A while back, on a not so special day, a few friends and I found ourselves shuffling through rough sands by a beach at two in the morning, and decided to plop down on them because we ran out of places to go. The hotel behind us was close, everything was close, and all around us pitch black save the dimly lit hotel. The waves were crashing – high tide, and the stars were out – two fell.
We sat there talking about recessing world economy while switching sitting positions when the legs had pins and needles. Half of the time, I thought to myself – we could definitely used some beer (which we eventually set out to get, really) and greens (it’s the beach, I think things like that) in a place like this. A friend played bad, bad, bad 80s music that did not fit the bill, and I thought of Kings of Convenience.
My point being: for me, it is hard not to associate Kings of Convenience with a beach setting. In fact, cashiers at CD stores should inform us, conveniently, after our purchase of Declaration of Dependence: “Here’s a complimentary beach to go with your CD. Enjoy.”
Unlike Jack Johnson, Kings of Convenience are quieter with their delicate string instruments that seem to be tiptoeing into the bedroom at three in the morning not to wake your parents, and their solemn voices like lullabies. They are a picture of a beach at night time, when insomniacs would stroll down, instead of a sunshine-y one with sands that burn and a perkily pecked surfer bouncing, bouncing, bouncing by.
Quiet is the New Loud paved the roads right for them as a necessary introduction to their music career and sound they are aiming to go for. Although things got a little complicated in Riot on an Empty Street – with additions of pianos and more complex guitar melodies and a queen named Feist, things pan out alright again in Declaration of Dependence with a slightly darker motif – a proper growth, I think.
Yet, after three albums, individualism is still capable of being instilled into every song. You cannot really find one song too similar to the other. I mean, yes, they are in the same languid mood and delicate tone, but you know – a convenient cliché-like metaphor coming up – kind of like crashing waves, or stars, or snowflakes. They still crash against the shores like they are supposed to, and they still fall on your noses (not the stars), like they are supposed to. But, no two waves or stars or snowflakes, under close observations, are ever the same.
Once upon a time, there were two Kings. Conveniently, they kept it simple, ruled a nation of songs with mere acoustic guitars and cellos as weapons of choice. Some songs were happy and some were rather sad. But the Kings held them all together well, like beaches with waves, nights with stars, and winter with snowflakes.
Conveniently, the two Kings will be dropping by Malaysia this Sunday (March 21, 2010) to have a concert, which I believe will be intimate, at the Bentley Music Auditorium. Unfortunately, tickets have sold out. But HERE, is Cayman Islands from their second album, Riot on an Empty Street, which you can download. Conveniently.
Posted by Celeste 
