Live Review: Nils Frahm

Young German neoclassical composer Nils Frahm's debut Australian show was nothing short of astounding. It was a spirited and profound performance that defies this reviewer's clumsy attempt to capture it with just a few hundred words. It was, at times, a transcendental experience that seemed to reach out into the night sky before descending softly into someone's quiet bedroom with ballads so focused and delicate it felt like the room was empty.

Says was a ten-minute odyssey anchored by a softly pinging looped scale. It was a lonely computer searching for life out in the stars, accompanied by a melancholy, crystalline piano figure (played out on both the upright and the grand). It built, slowly, and suddenly it was as if something from deep space called back, and a series of key changes burst open and flooded the hall with the most incredible sound. By the last abrupt notes our heaving hearts had moved into our throats.

Frahm played a composition designed for nine fingers (he broke his thumb in 2012), and the room was so silent you would swear everyone had disappeared. The serenity was absolute. Achieving a sense of peace that profound is rare, let alone experiencing it at a concert. For–  Peter – Toilet Brushes – More was a technical masterpiece that involved the titular instrument banging away on the guts of the grand piano itself before moving through several fantastic textural landscapes. YouTube it. Immediately.

Frahm was a warm, entertaining and surprisingly funny guy who enjoyed a good chat, and his relaxed attitude balanced out the poignancy of his work. This made for a unique vibe, and his almost cavalier approach didn't detract at all from the sacred nature of the material. In the end, it was easily one of the best gigs this reviewer has seen in a long time.