The last time Chelsea Wolfe headlined in France was in the summer of 2018 (we took some pictures). In between, there was a support slot for A Perfect Circle, an appearance alongside Converge at Hellfest 2022 (we were there too!) and, above all, an acoustic tour cancelled in 2020 with a Paris date scheduled for the very first day of the infamous lockdown... So it was high time to catch up with the artist, who has since released several albums, moving away from the stifling doom of Abyss and Hiss Spun that haunted his setlists at the time. The opening act was darkwave trio Kælan Mikla, who we've already spoken highly of here on several occasions. In short: all the ingredients were there for a beautiful evening, full of dark reveries, all under the high ceiling of the Elysée Montmartre and the supervision of the promoter, Vedettes.
Kælan Mikla
The years go by, the hair colours change each time, but seeing Kælan Mikla live again is a pleasure that never fades. From the very first moments, the three Icelandic musicians immediately radiate a touching sympathy, with their discreet smiles and their dresses that give them a spectral allure. The three Norns begin their set in the traditional way, with the eponymous title, Kælan Mikla, like an introduction or a note of intent: their name means ‘a great cold, something icy’.
One track follows another, driven by synths that modernise the coldwave of The Cure and the likes, and a bass that borrows its tension from post-punk. Over the years, Kælan Mikla has mellowed and his latest compositions are less sharp, less minimalist, less cold. We can appreciate the nostalgic softness of Stormurinn, Örlögin and Hvítir Sandar, played at the end of the set under the ever benevolent gaze of Neige (lead singer of Alcest), who was obviously present in the audience but didn't get up on stage to play this song with them even though they'd recorded it together.
As we said earlier, the years go by and some things change for Kælan Mikla. On vocals, Laufey Soffía doesn't push her voice as high as she used to (if it's to avoid losing her vocal chords, we understand!), but that doesn't stop Kalt or Andvaka, with their minimalist intensity and vocals that sound like a possessed incantation, from shaking up an otherwise calmer setlist. You can also savour the terrifying banshee shrieks that haunt the beautiful Sólstöður and echo through the Elysée Montmartre with startling power.
It doesn't take much for Kælan Mikla to cast their spell on an audience who, given the warm reception, were already familiar with their spectral poetry. Laufey Soffía's elegant dances, Margrét Rósa's bass (still hidden under her hair) adding a little thickness to Sólveig Matthildur's melodies, whose flute adds a touch of organised magic to the synthetic universe: it's simple but effective. Is global warming to blame for Kælan Mikla's recent thaw? Who knows? In any case, rarely has Laufey Soffía seemed so breathless when thanking her audience, always with such discretion and endearing sincerity. Kælan Mikla continue to grow and reach ever wider audiences, and everything they achieve is richly deserved.
CHELSEA WOLFE
The darkness! It was in the comfortable dim-light and a little ahead of schedule that Chelsea Wolfe took her place behind the microphone, accompanied by her faithful producer and multi-instrumentalist Ben Chisholm on synths, Jess Gowrie (with whom she also launched the side-project Mrs Piss) on drums and Bryan Tulao on guitar. The concert begins with the psychedelic anxiety attack that is Whispers in the Echo Chamber, the opening track from her latest album. Lulls and whispers, guitar explosions, industrial touches and, despite the size of the venue, a certain intimacy that immediately sets in: the tone is set, the darkness will be sublime and full of contrasts.
With She Reaches Out to She Reaches Out to She (review) and its title, which seems both endlessly repeatable and linking the different eras of her career, like a dialogue between past, present and future versions of the artist, Chelsea Wolfe showed us that with her, everything is about cycles. The setlist reflects this: the latest album is played in its entirety, uniting in itself the different musical styles the musician has tackled (folk, doom, darkwave, trip-hop, etc.) but is also joined by a selection of tracks spanning the last ten or twelve years of a fascinatingly evolving discography.
The underwater echoes of Abyss resonate with Survive, the suffocating, mystical heaviness of 16 Psyche and The Culling add extra depth to the set, and the heady The Mother Road and Deranged for Rock'n'Roll follow one another to compensate for the Birth of Violence european tour cancelled by a pandemic... As for the performance, we're blown away by the perfection and power of the vocals, enhanced by a masterly sound, full and clear, which does justice to all the richness, all the variations, all the little quirks of the music. We're regularly struck by the quality of the rendition, like Feral Love and its incredibly amplified industrial/noise vibe, which heightens the intensity tenfold, or the acoustic version of Liminal at the end of the set, which is just stunning, or the disarming sobriety of Flatlands, is deeply moving.
When it comes to the show, Chelsea Wolfe is known for her reserve: don't expect a circus of gimmicks and artifice from her. The singer, often hidden behind a few strands of hair or a cloud of smoke, stays where she feels best: in the dark... which, probably quite unwittingly, ends up transforming her silhouette into a dark icon with a mysterious aura! However, she has left her microphone stand a bit more often than she used to in the past and she more frequently addressed the audience to thank them... and even smiled one or two times! Nevertheless, fans of the show were treated to some spectacular lighting effects and a series of tableaux in which the silhouettes of the musicians stood out in the fog and half-light, and regularly the circle: a cycle, again and again.
Rarely enough to be highlighted: the audience was irreproachable. No one dared to disturb the silence of the tracks played unplugged by Chelsea Wolfe alone on stage in front of a captivated and enthralled audience, and no stupid remark pierced the shadows. What a delight: there was absolutely nothing to spoil the beauty of this perfect evening. An opening act that set the ideal melancholic, twilight mood, a generous setlist designed to satisfy everyone (we wouldn't have said no to Carrion Flowers, played in Biarritz a few days before... but in fact, we wouldn't have said no to any extra tracks!), a magnificent show but without any excesses that might have detracted from the music: the immersion was total and gave the impression of having shared a privileged moment in a small group despite the presence of nearly 1000 people... It was an evening to remember for a long time to come.
