Live Review: Nils Frahm

Nils Frahm bounds to the front of the stage with a delightfully goofy enthusiasm and, after bowing through the initial applause, launches into friendly banter that deflates any stuffy sense of seriousness in the room.

The Old Museum is a beautiful venue and Frahm, a world-renown composer, but he’s funny and human and it seems obvious this is meant to be a fun show.

An Aborted Beginning starts things off, dub-electronics a surprising opening for an artist best known for his neo-classical work. It’s a little weak, but works to settle the ear of the crowd into what’s to come. Says continues the electronic theme, minimalist ambience that slowly layers and builds over nine-odd minutes into a dense mixture of bouncing arpeggios and softly rolling bass, before Frahm moves to the piano, the electronics left to loop while he adds a new melody on the piano. When it all cuts out together, the only sound left the rapturous applause.

A single note is struck once on the piano, then again. Then over and over in endless repetition until it loses all meaning as music; becomes sound, becomes noise. And as Frahm adds in a second hand, that note weaves in and out of the melody, shifting between music and noise, despite being the one constant of Said And Done. The melody moves from piano to organ, Frahm stretching between the two instruments, but always that one note remains the same, varying only in its intensity.

Frahm’s standard third piano is missing, and so Brisbane is treated to a new experiment. Arpeggios loop in a truncated form, never quite resolving. A peculiar kind of tension is generated by the structure as, like the previous piece, it mutates between melodic and rhythmic structures. Later, Plage 5 is near-perfect, with deep throbbing bass, interesting rhythms and intricate piano.

The final piece is really four loosely connected movements, For – Peter – Toilet Brushes – More, that see Frahm further experimenting with form – the frame and strings of his grand piano are played with toilet brushes – before he stretches out to play his keyboard with one hand, his piano with the other, while his feet play the bass line. It seems that at any point it must surely collapse under the weight of its concept and complexity, but instead it only gets better.

The main set has been very dense tonight, but when Frahm returns for the encore, it’s a much quieter, more minimalist affair; the notes that were earlier piled on top of one another are now left to hang resonant in the air. It’s a wonderful end to a truly remarkable set and the sustained standing ovation is entirely deserved.

Frahm is a confident and adventurous performer, an assured host, and he can’t come back here quickly enough.