Live: Lykke Li @ NYC's Bowery Ballroom

by Angela Bruno

(Photo: Bao Nguyen via Brooklyn Vegan)

These days, it seems that Nordic sisters are doing it for themselves. Think the electro-pop Madonna of Sweden, Robyn. Or robo-funk chanteuse Kissey Asplund, who smolders over Dilla Donuts-like beatcraft. Or Copenhagen grime emcee Lucy Love. But right now, focus on Precious-Moments-eyed (you know, that longing, sad innocence) Swedish pop singer Lykke Li, who (as Pitbull would say) bojangled her way into the hearts of stateside fans (and this here blogger) with her resonant lyrics and awkward, dance-like-no-one's-watching shoulder shimmy. Last night at the Bowery, in between sets by fellow Swedes Anna Ternheim and El Perro de Mar, Lykke put on an on-point show. And the crowd definitely had a lot to say.

Opening act, Anna Ternheim, a cross between Dido and Björk or OVERHEARD AUDIENCE QUOTE: "a Swedish Melissa Etheridge," thanks to her shaggy mop of  "Come to My Window"-era hair and hemp-wearing hiker aesthetic, was a pleasant suprise. OVERHEARD AUDIENCE QUOTE: "She has a beautiful voice." And that she did, singing a song she described as "for the people that harass -- that stalk -- the girl that refuses to leave the man that dumped her" over what -- at first -- sounded like a silky, body-wave-inducing R&B thumper. Later, her singer-songwriter delivery somehow, quite befuddlingly, managed to evoke memories of OVERHEARD AUDIENCE QUOTE: "Young Jeezy's Grey Goose and PINE-AP-PLE song." She followed with a cover of Bowie's "China Girl," and then, for a moment reminiscent of that WTF-caliber creepy scene in Purple Rain where Prince confides in that stick puppet, Anna addressed the audience: "If you want to buy my record, this is what it looks like ..." Apparently, it looks like a shrunken head. Yes, she pulled one out. Yes, apparently one of her releases is called Lovers Dream & More Music for Psychotic Lovers.Yes, it was crazy.

(Photo: Bao Nguyen via Brooklyn Vegan)

Promptly thereafter, Lykke Li took the stage to a genuinely excited, roaring crowd, pitting the serious, there-to-watch-the-show-and-observe-art fans against a frenzied-yet-jubilant and repeatedly "shhhhh"-ed crew of gyrating media professionals and friends (you know who you are) that were only following the directions of her opening song, "Dance Dance Dance." Lykke, bearing the weight of about three pounds of dookie-esque chains around her neck, was limber and sprite as she beat the crap out of a tambourine with a drum stick. (OVERHEARD AUDIENCE QUOTE: "She's going to poke an eye out!") Lykke was donning some sort of indiscernible pleated blouson get-up, so I asked a towering gentlemen with a bird's-eye view of the proceedings if she was wearing pants. DIRECT AUDIENCE QUOTE: "Not when I'm done with her," he chuckled. Sacrebleu! Damn! Moving on.

Lykke, accompanied by a two-thirds-mustached troupe of musicians on the drums, guitar and keyboard, moved swiftly through her set, interspersing kazoo-playing, frenetic body hydraulics and calls for more dancing among blogosphere favorites like "Breaking It Up" with its kiddie chorus, the tear-jerking don't-ever-leave-me "Tonight," and of course, the endearingly honest "Little Bit," an anthem for commitment-phobics with good intentions but shaky foundations. She closed with "I'm Good I'm Gone," which always reminds me of Lee Dorsey's "Workin' in a Coal Mine," prompting me to sing the wrong lyrics: "workin' in a coal mine, going down, down, down." In fact, she is singing "walking in a corner, peeking over shoulders, waiting for my time to come" and "I'm working, I sweat, but it's all good." And, indeed, all good it was. A  chunk of the crowd (including myself) headed for the streets, leaving El Perro del Mar to put on, what the Internets have deemed, an "inspired" show. BOUNCER QUOTE: "Is there anybody still in there?"