The indie crowd had turned up as if for a big family event: Mew's last concert with Jonas Bjerre as frontman. Wistfully, yes. But also beautiful, warm and oddly hopeful. Because how do you say goodbye to a band that has sounded like your youth?
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Disclaimer: Apropos Magazine received access or a review copy. As always, we share our own impressions — unfiltered.
Six stars
The Royal Arena was close to sold out on Saturday night, and though no one said it out loud, everyone knew full well that this was the end of something important. The last day of spring, was supposed to mark Mew's last concert on Danish soil. The Blue Foundation opened with a dignified, dreamy warm-up -- appropriate when you consider how many times their paths have crossed the Mews over the years.
Then Mew went on.
After a slightly odd ambient intro, they stood there as they always have: understated and deeply focused. Jonas Bjerre said a few words along the way -- grateful, calm, almost apologetic. As always, it seemed more like an emotion than a speech, and that's exactly what made it strong.
The setlist was tightly packed and carefully constructed. The audience was in from the first note, culminating in collective euphoria during “Snow Brigade.” That they had also found room for “That Time on the Ledge” — a rare b-side from She Came Home for Christmas-the single — felt like a salute directly to those who have been in it from the beginning. A quiet, almost ethereal version that Mew have a habit of giving their older songs.
The visuals — created by Jonas, of course — amplified the dreamy expression, and it all merged into an experience where sound and image mattered.
Johan Wohlert gave the longest thank-you speech of the evening -- with warm words for Jonas and a hint that Mew might not be quite finished, just different. And yes, between the extras we got a foretaste: a big-laden, Jonas-free passage in which you could sense the will to find a new form. It was nice. But it's going to be difficult.
Silas Graae behind the drums reminded us how much groove and heaviness Mew has had from day one. When the very old tracks were played, something youthful and unspoilt emerged — a purity in both sound and longing.
Mew is still stadium-indie at its best. But also a reminder that the biggest bands don't necessarily have to keep up with the times -- they just need to be true to what they've created themselves. And they were. From start to finish.
Let's just put it like this...
An era ended Saturday night in the Royal Arena. It hurt a little, but in the way it should: with gratitude and conjoined smiles. Mew has been the soundtrack to the emotions of an entire generation -- their darkness, their light, their quiet desperation.
From the entire Apropos editorial board: Thanks for the memories, Mew. And to Jonas -- we're going to miss your voice, your gaze, your spaceship. This farewell felt like a song: melancholic, beautiful and with an opening towards something new.
