Hammersmith Apollo
The Cardigans’ fourth album, Gran Turismo, isn’t the most obvious one for them to perform it in its entirety, for its 20th anniversary. On the one hand, their bestselling album shifted 3m copies and made the Swedish quintet even bigger international stars. On the other, it was the product of an unhappy time, when singer Nina Persson was, in her words, “sad and lonely”, pouring her despair and vulnerability into songs she has described as “open wounds”.
The album transformed their public image from happy-go-lucky indie popsters into something darker and electronic, but, with no new Cardigans material for a decade, it hasn’t proved the hottest ticket. The venue is undersold, and the songs boom around, all bass and echo, with the band barely lit, in shadows.
Still, this does give opener Paralyzed – which starts with the line “This is where your sanity gives in” – a weird, unsettling power. While one yearns for the album’s clarity, the melodramatic tunes of Erase/Rewind, the Abba-esque Hanging Around and the beautifully sad Explode are strong enough to escape the murk. Persson – now a mother and cancer survivor – says she has developed the “thicker skin” needed to perform these songs but, clad in funereal black, she is certainly reliving them. Her face is concentrated, her vocals soaring and emotional, her lyrics illustrated by darting hand movements.
She remains a fabulous frontperson and if she’s disappointed by the closed balcony and the hall’s empty spaces, it doesn’t show. “Look at you, Manchester!” she yells. With guitarist Oskar Humlebo ably replacing Peter Svensson (who declined the reunion) and the sound ever improving, the country-tinged Junk of the Hearts doesn’t sound out of place in today’s world of Taylor Swift et al.
The sublime, unsettling Higher and a singalong My Favourite Game finally score a difficult triumph, before Persson switches to a natty green outfit with a rosette and the band are drenched in colour for a 45-minute romp through their back catalogue. The lovely Communication and the playful breakthrough hit Lovefool from 1996 sound particularly glorious. Despite celebrating Gran Turismo, they sound much more comfortable once they’ve left it behind.
Dave Simpson in The Guardian
Antanana's Blog 