Live Review: Ólafur Arnalds, Sophie Hutchings

Sophie Hutchings hits the shiny black grand piano at exactly 7.30pm and tickles the ivories to give us her rather elegant instrumental piano pieces. As she plays, it's easy to sink into your chair and lose yourself in dreamy reverie. Hutchings' notes hang in the air and, suspended above our heads, they combine to create a shimmering conglomeration of sound that seduces the audience. The minimalist repetition of simple motifs gives way to strong melodies that push her pieces forward. The pianist from Sydney entrances as she plays tunes such as Sunlight Zone, Half Hidden and Between Earth And Sky while brushing those beach-blonde ringlets from her face.

Many of the swooning young ladies in the audience would agree that Ólafur Arnalds is a charming young man albeit in a very post-classical way. He starts the show by asking the audience to sing an 'E' and then a 'C', which he records and then samples into his iPad, which he calls “Mr Jobs”. We are captured and looped as he starts with Þú Ert Jörðin, a minimal piano piece that creeps gently across simple, repetitive phrases before it's brought into full bloom by a string quartet comprising local players. Arnalds' soft, contemplative music invites introspection. Its evocative nature lends itself to soundtracks and this is best exemplified on the tune Arnalds wrote for the TV series Broadchurch. In between songs, Arnalds comes across as quite the comedian but as he delves into the melancholia of Poland it packs such an emotional punch that he is able to quickly transport the audience deep into real and imagined memories of that place on the other side of the world. Field recordings, sound effects and glitch-digital beats creep into a mix that more obviously becomes electro-acoustic as the show progresses. 

There is very little build in the individual pieces that Arnalds presents. We meander like lost explorers through long pastorals, but the program itself builds slowly and powerfully. It creates a place in the set that allows the magnificence of For Now I Am Winter featuring Arnór Dan to shine brilliantly. Dan's falsetto brings to mind Antony Hegarty and Active Child's tremulous warble. The uplifting vibes of Old Skin make a break from Arnalds' predilection for melancholia to offer moments of rapturous joy. Piano and violin come together to sublime effect on the elegant composition Ljósið, which was famously rejected as a commercial soundtrack.

It's almost 10pm and, as we realise that the show's over, Arnalds and his colleagues are showered in thunderous applause. Encoring with a tune written in memory of his grandmother who insisted Arnalds learn to play the piano and listen to classical music at a time when he was more interested in death metal, there's plenty of heartfelt emotion coming from his fingertips as he goes it solo on piano. A memorable evening in the company of a truly inspired artist.