Scandinavian soul searches Smerz make their way to London’s east for a sold-out Hackney headline. Wonderland sends writer Bethany Wright to be spellbound.
Whilst waiting for the Norwegian electro-pop duo Smerz to appear on stage at Moth Club in Hackney, I feel a small tap on my shoulder. The crowd at the front of the venue had been pretty angsty. Eager to maintain their position. The touch that follows the gentle nudge of guitarist Villads Tyrrstrup and drummer Rune Kielsgaard. I move aside obediently. Then another polite tap. I turn around, ready to be slightly jarred, only to realise who it is when their black stilettos step carefully on stage. Catharina Stoltenberg and Henriette Motzfeldt. It’s all very nonchalant and synchronous – emblematic of the sound of Smerz. An offering of cool, whimsical, electro-melancholia.
Two fans blow on either side of the microphone; the air waves rustle the curtain of gold tinsel lining the stage. Catharina turns her back on the audience as Henriette begins to play the keyboard. “As I walk down the street…” the two pause, smiling at each other. Catharina taps the microphone in imitation of the sound of footsteps, much to the audience’s amusement.
The live sound of Smerz is like a thick oil that silks and ponders on the poeticism of their lyrics, which, after seeing them IRL, I realise is occasionally lost in their recorded productions. “Remembrance” was twice as romantic live and feels truly celebratory of a night of good sex. “Fiesty” becomes a stripped-back single punctuated by Rune Kielsgaard’s drum solo. “Roll the Dice” brings the energy back, though the crowd felt reluctant. It was as if everyone had been used to dancing to the songs in their rooms and now, in this public setting, shoulder-to-shoulder with strangers, feel all of a sudden self-aware and reluctant to participate.
The musicians share wonderfully delicate moments of intimacy during the show. Small smiles and nods here and there. They have previously described their musical process as an ongoing conversation between them. Long-term friends, Catharina and Henriette grew up together in Oslo before moving to Copenhagen together to study. Many songs from their first album, Believer, were written from each other’s perspective. This unconscious knowledge of one another was obvious on stage, as they rotate between instruments — soundboard, keyboard, violin and voice — without sharing a word.
During the opening chords to “A Thousand Reasons”, there’s a dear exchange between guitarist Villad and Henriette. She shows him to the keyboard and begins playing the opening sequence. He echoes them back to her before the composition is put into a loop, and he is able to return to his bass. Something about it feels adjacent to a scene from Yorgos Lanthimos’ Poor Things, the tender student-teacher dialogue. The authenticity of their connection seems to expand and connect with the room in a way that blossoms a quietness within the crowd. It is as if the audience is bewitched by the four members and wary of interrupting the spell that is being cast, illuminated and woven into their music.
This stillness is only broken when Catharina and Henriette begin to play “You’ve Got Time, and I’ve Got Money”, one of the most popular songs on their new album due to its circulation on TikTok. It’s overlaid with random video montages of Pam and Jim from The Office, new micro-bangs and beautiful yet slightly sad-looking girls posing. People begin to sway and sing quietly. Catharina leans into the waves of the fan, her hair billows up around her like some sort of Medusa. The song ends. The lights lift. And the four leave the stage just as nonchalantly as they had arrived.
We filter into the smoking area, where I nearly choke on my cigarette from spotting Adwoa Aboah. Not feeling the after party (aka one half of the Moth Club bar cordoned off for the guest list), I put my earphones on, and return to my listening party of one. “Feisty” accompanies me on my way home. The lyrics “then I freeze when I look down at his shoes” punctuate my cold pedalling feet. And “Uh!” I look down to see, in my pure excitement, that I’m wearing an odd pair of black boots.
How poetic.
Words – Bethany Wright
Photography – Grace Miller
