By Erik Myers
There was a strange inexplicable glee felt when I heard the from Falling in Reverse on my phone as I stood alone outside the It was without question the highlight of my Saturday evening there with simply because they had made me feel something while he hadn’t. At least, not yet.
Perhaps I had been too caught up in my own naive vision of the singer-songwriter, assured his nationality would compel him to act differently than others who perform with no more than a guitar and a stool. Perhaps he would’ve been darker, more artful, less chatty. My vision was briefly realized at the very beginning, when one of his oldest Swedish-sung recordings played over the monitors. Then he came out on stage, lean and tan and without an accent but plenty of emotion. Somewhere around the second song, disappointment sunk in.
Kristian Matsson is a student of American songwriting — being his most obvious influence. But he’s much more animated than Dylan ever was. He would pace back and forth across the stage, scrunching his face and raising his voice at every song’s precise moment of ascent. He was pretty chatty, often explaining the song he was about to perform. He even stopped mid-song to alert security to a tall man in the middle of the crowd who had taken a visible tumble. But then he bounced back up and gave a wave. He was just fine. All concern evaporated and the show went on. The utterly inebriated continued their unseen struggle up the darkened alleys to the side.
I was bored but the crowd loved him though. They were loud but respectful, almost like a church congregation. Often they sang along, except with the final notes on “The Gardner” which Matsson belted until his face went purple. The only time he caught my attention was near the end of his set, when he broke out in an impassioned rant introducing “Where My Bluebird Fly,” the best song of the night.
Years ago, he explained, a broken relationship had left him with some unspecified dark thoughts. “But I’ve realized over the past seven years that I’m an asshole too,” he said. Motioning to his crew in the sound booth, he added: “Sometimes I’m an asshole to them.” Then, more playfully: “You’re all assholes at one point or another!” Finally, something I could relate to.
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Electronic blogger Erik Myers is a Denver-based writer and new contributor to Reverb. Contact him at erikmye@gmail.com or
Ty Hyten is a Denver photographer and a new contributor to Reverb.
