Frederic Saroya
Haggveston, Helder.
Hagefestn is the third festival I’m reviewing this summer, and so far I’ve scored mostly fives, a few sixes, and sometimes fours. But mainly it stayed above the middle of the cube.
And I started asking myself. “Did you lose it, Maja? Did you sting. Did the years of pestilence and longing for live-party experiences make you soft and compliant?”
But then Frederic Saroya, also known as Dattrock’s vocalist, took to the stage at Hagefestn.
And the heavens opened, the light shone on me, and my inner image rose with vengeful fury.
Frederic Saroya is a man who plays guitar and plays melancholy tones. But he doesn’t really want to own it, so he creates an easy atmosphere between songs, within songs, and on top of songs.
He interrupts himself while playing to hear himself speak. continuous.
And he is a charming Bergen, shy and a little unpretentious – reserved. It’s the only thing that monitors this training extra.
This would probably work well at a particularly acidic party, for those who do this kind of thing. Saroea actually advises people to eat acid at some point – that’s how much he believes in his own project.
But I was dealing with grilled stone folks who provided better musical experiences than Saroea did for the paying audience at Hagefestn tonight.
Saruya is a relatively weak guitarist. He also sings a little sadly. All this would have been fine if he had not insisted on being flaccid, snotty, and angry.
Probably something he wanted to tell about his single record, Runa’s Diary? Why on earth wouldn’t he tell us that? The record has melancholy, ingrained despair, frustrated aggressiveness even.
Why does he always distance himself from it, like a disappointed teenager who refuses to admit that he is hurt, sad, angry?
It’s okay that you don’t want to go deep into the dark at a cozy garden party, but when you cultivate such apparent emotional immaturity in communication, as Saroea did at the festival, the songs lose their credibility.
Good. Those are his songs. He created them, he can wash them too. But we don’t get the music experience we could have. honest experience.
And I’m a bit of a whore for that.
When you didn’t think they could get small, uncomfortable and razor-thin – Saroea plays some Datarock classics. Fa fa fa, Amarillion, Laurie. In one he does not remember the lyrics, in the second he does not know the power key, and in the third he talks to himself.
No god, this was exhausting. But it made me find myself again. This was something.
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