As you can see, before the show David Eugene Edwards had planned to do at least 3 encore songs. But as it turned out, he did only one (Down in Your Forest)! I don't know why he cut the show short, but maybe he decided he'd given it all he had by then. Most versions up until then were extremely intense - even by his standards - and maybe it was the guy shouting "Show some dignity!" early in the show (when David appeared during the Br. Danielson set) that "helped" to trigger an extra level of energy in him. First David simply looked up and said "That's what I'm doing man!!"

But in the beginning of his own set, there was another shout from the corner which David asked to be repeated, with a suspicious look. But the person kept quiet. So then during "Black Soul Choir" David stared with mad wild eyes into the corner all through the song without even a single blink and in the last chorus he screamed "liar!!" - head beside the mike - so loud that his voice cracked, seemingly hurt and angry. So... I don't know... maybe no energy was left after "Down in Your Forest" or maybe he just thought that the line "I love the lord Jesus above anything" was a good way to end that night.

A funny detail: During "Poor Mouth" David did a rare thing with his lyrics... "Is anything as lovely to me as the truth in love... I'd take it over Sweden anyway!" Hilarious.

by Johan

David Eugene Edwards is the Christian music scene's very own Jeffrey Lee Pierce. The Dagens Nyheter reviewer crouches when his grim voice preaches penance, condemnation and love.

A Christian package tour from the USA, no more no less. But that's not how it's billed, and I for one have a hard time believing that very many people in the crowd at the sold out Debaser have come there this evening for the Christian aspect.

See there are certain reasons Christian rock music seldom reaches out to the masses beyond the core of Christian fans, and most of those reasons are spelled mediocrity. Nights like this on the other hand, should be seen as a classic example of how obscure and lo-fi alternative music are allowed to be these days. There are four men on stage, three of which are headliners, and everybody is helping each other out with everything. Two of them are solo acts (at least for the moment), the third has a whole bunch of different projects, all under the family name Danielson - despite the fact that his real name is Daniel Smith.

His latest project is called Br. Danielson, and it's the only part of this evening when all four of the guys are on stage at the same time for a while. He is also the one who separates the wheat from the chaff. Dressed in a giant colourful fruit tree costume, seemingly borrowed from the nearest children's theatre, he's screaming pop songs in a shrill falsetto while violently strumming his acoustic guitar and in addition he's backed up by drums and banjo and in the end electric guitar as well. And he is not joking.

If you just happened to drop in at Debaser at that moment, you probably would've gone right out the door again. If you weren't touched by the mere raw power of it all, that is. Cause the acting and the painful voice is really standing in the way of Daniel Smith's songs. You can barely hear them. But anyone who voluntarily chooses such extreme ways to express himself inevitable becomes fascinating. In some way.

Sufjan Stevens in comparison seems the apostle of normality. He brings a homemade map of the state of Michigan on stage with him and then he plays a couple of songs that all take place there. Except for the last one, in which he takes a step over to Chicago. His onstage image is so defused that it fails to be even laconic. He plays his acoustic guitar and banjo carefully but quick and sings his songs with a tiny little voice, too modest to even care that it sometimes out of tone.

It's all as nice as it is insignificant.

The main act is the last one on and for most of the time he's got the stage all for himself. Nevertheless David Eugene Edwards fills every inch of the room without the slightest problem, sitting out of sight for at least half of the audience. Usually he's the leader of the band Sixteen Horsepower, now he brings their sulphurous gothic country music out into the wasteland of the lonely troubadour and still seemingly nothing is lost.

Whether he plays banjo or guitar he swings like a complete orchestra. Sometimes he's accompanied by odd background sounds, and the grim voice sings about love, condemnation and penance in a way that makes you crouch right where you stand. Jeffrey Lee Pierce is reborn as a preacher of fire and brimstone, sort of.

On the way home there's a cold wind blowing, a spring rain in the air. May I say it seemed so fitting.

Translation by Johan