Nils Frahm in Manchester

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  • Nils Frahm occupies a unique position in modern music: a poster boy for the hip, young neo-classical scene, but one whose synth-led tracks naturally appeal to clubbers. He seems able to move easily between those two worlds—the classical concert hall and the summer festival circuit, Boiler Room and The Barbican. Yet, this evening—a seated gig at Manchester's Royal Northern College of Music—pointed out a quiet tension between Frahm's intimate piano compositions and his more beat-orientated tracks. Such an environment of close listening and concentration is perfect for Frahm's introspective piano material, particularly the tracks from his 2012 album Screws. Playing an upright piano with a weary, almost clapped-out quality to it (a deliberate effect, presumably), "You" conjured a stark sense of melancholy. It was as heart-breaking as the epic "Says" was heart-stopping. Moving between a bank of synthesisers and sequencers, that upright and a grand piano, Frahm teased this one out with with an expertise that recalled The Field. Using every device at his disposable, not least volume, Frahm turn it into a thing of exquisite, extended foreplay. As "Says" finally peaked in its late, life-affirming surge of bass-y piano rolls, I couldn't jump up, punch the sky and generally holler and scream as I would have liked, but it was a special moment. Frahm joked about how nice it was to play for "human beings" after a season of rowdy festival crowds, but for me, the venue's hushed, reverent atmosphere was an issue in the middle of the show, as Frahm broke out the muffled kick-drums and Aphex Twin-style beats. Like Frahm, who was busy twisting and jacking as he played, I wanted to move and react to the music. Without that interaction, how can such percussive music ever truly live? How can you absorb yourself in it? Clearly, in a club, at 3 AM, the more delicate elements of Frahm's music would be lost, but these more club-influenced tracks lacked something in a seated auditorium. Frahm is a genial, self-deprecating host, repeatedly apologising for what he calls cheesy and boring tracks, but he comes armed with a fearsome repertoire and an impressive willingness to physically push himself—look at the way he relentlessly bangs out the same note for eight minutes on "Said & Done." "Hammers" is delivered with a fervent intensity, while the prog-ish odyssey of "For – Peter – Toilet Brushes – More" is at once breathtaking and ludicrous. One section involves Frahm playing mesmeric percussion on the body of the grand piano, using a couple of toilet brushes, which he then mischievously rubs against the mics for comic effect. In such moments, Frahm asserts himself as an exceptional musical entity. Rarely has such serious music been presented in such a warm and entertaining way. Photo credits: Nick Bojdo
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