Andreas Odbjerg's concert in the Royal Arena was a celebration — but not just of the noisy kind. With guests, twinkle in his eye and his particular blend of self-irony and pop sensibility, he hit both the floor and the heartthrob.
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Disclaimer: Apropos Magazine received access or a review copy. As always, we share our own impressions — unfiltered.
Six stars
It started with a wink. A spot light, a smile, a phrase delivered with that Odbjerg timing that is neither ironic nor sincere — but right in between. And so we were at it. The Royal Arena was packed but not pressurised. A collection of people who seemed to want him. Wanted the party. Would the community.
It wasn't a concert in the classical sense. It was a show, yes, but without pretensions. Odbjerg did not stand as a star in the center, but as the host of a company where everyone had to take off their shoes and sing along. And we did it.
The guests came in one by one. Tobias Rahim, Pil, Ida Laurberg, Emma Sehested Høeg and the opera singer with the long name, who made the old audiences straighten up. It could have become a circus. But it became a parade.
The music spanned from EDM to piano ballad, from “Benny” to “Home from the Factory,” and between the songs we already knew by heart, new tracks appeared that already felt nostalgic.
He sang like he meant it -- and talked like he didn't always. But that's part of Odbjerg's magic: he plays with the form, without losing touch. He doesn't seem like someone who wants to be bigger than his music. And yet he fills the whole room.
The light, the sound, the delivery. Everything sat without it feeling choreographed. And that in itself is perhaps the most choreographed of it all.
And so what?
Maybe it's just that. That we needed a gig where it's not all about being perfect. Where good it must be neat, but not polished. Where someone says things that we ourselves wish we would dare. Or just dance them.
