Bohren & der Club of Gore is a German band featuring Morten Gass on guitar, keyboards and drums, Robin Rodenberg on bass and drums, and Christoph Clöser on saxophone, piano, keyboards and drums. Best known for their distinctive dark jazz, ambient textures and doom-laden soundscapes, the band builds its music around minimalism, stillness and space.
This week, Bohren & der Club of Gore delivered a truly unique experience on the stage at Folkoperan. In one word, the concert was slow. This slowness is the starting point for any attempt to embrace and understand their music. If you want an action-packed experience, this is the first point at which you might want to opt out.
The band’s style is often described as detective jazz or dark jazz, transmitting the atmosphere of film noir. The result lived up to these expectations. The longer it goes on, the more you feel as though you are inside a typical Scandinavian true-crime miniseries set in a grey, hopeless city. Everyone is borderline depressed, chronically sleep-deprived and carrying plenty of emotional baggage.
All in all, Bohren & der Club of Gore are a niche discovery. And that is completely okay. The band clearly knows who its audience is, and those who belong to that group most definitely felt closely connected to its very core. The foundation is built on meditative tunes that are like wine in a decanter: they need time to breathe and open up.
And yet, unfortunately, the time did not bring much progression to the performance. The deeper wine notes never quite emerged. Since the emotional build-up is missing, the story, lasting over an hour, has no climax. The saxophone solos successfully anchor the mood but the repetitive motifs never quite build the tension they seem to promise. However, the premise is exactly that: uneventful music, in Clöser’s own words.
A lack of progression is not a flaw in a genre of ambient music. If done right, it deepens the mood it tries to convey, increases the feeling and becomes irresistible. The music occasionally feels pretentious in its attempt to immerse the listener in a macabre atmosphere. For me, that immersion never fully happened.
In essence, the band is like a LEGO puzzle that makes sense as a whole. The individual pieces can feel slight in isolation, but together, they form a complete picture.
Constant Fear was the piece that really stood out to me. It is well-defined, distinct from the rest and immaculately conveys the feeling of living with an ever-present suppressed fear. It effectively resonates with the current global political landscape and gives you food for thought.
Between songs, Clöser spoke with such slow, calm delivery that you could never quite decide whether it was meant to match the musical style or whether that was simply his natural vibe. One thing is clear: we had plenty of good laughs in the audience. For better or for worse.
