On 17 July 2024, Lunden i Horsens was transformed into a sound space for two of the strongest live bands of the time. Mew and The War on Drugs met in the open, green amphitheater -- and let their melancholy sonic universes mirror each other in the summer light.
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Disclaimer: Apropos Magazine received access or a review copy. As always, we share our own impressions — unfiltered.
Six stars
The open-air scene in Lunden is tailored for these kinds of evenings. The gently sloping lawn provides a free view, like a natural amphitheatre, and the dense stand around the stage creates a sense of envelopment that few outdoor concerts manage. Between bars, food trucks and happy guests, an atmosphere arose that most of all resembled a mini-edition of Roskilde Festival — just without the dust, chaos and compromises.
Mew opened the evening -- and did so with something that resembled the elegance of conviction. They laid out with the “Snow Brigade” and shaped the set list with surgical precision. The audience, many clearly come just for them, were carried along in a stream of familiar chord progressions and unexpected twists. As an architect in sound, Jonas Bjerre and the rest of the band had constructed an hour in which each number was allowed to speak for itself -- without talk, without interruptions, without irony.
Particularly noteworthy was the light: a simple and almost minimalist design that nevertheless gave way to the detail. Drummer Silas Graae stood almost bathed in the spotlight, playing like a rhythmic clockwork mechanism. His playing is not flamboyant but deterministic -- as if every stroke is programmed to exactly the right place in time and space.
Audiences got both “Special” and “The Zookeeper's Boy” in classic transition, and it all culminated — as it should — in “Comforting Sounds.” The absence of visuals and Bo Madsen was noticed but not missed. Mew played with a kind of unperturbed dignity that doesn't require nostalgia to function. When Johan Wohlert said goodbye, it almost felt like an ending -- despite the fact that the headlining act hadn't yet gone on.
And then The War on Drugs went on -- ten minutes ahead of time. No drama, just music. “Brothers” and “Baby Missiles” opened before we were plunged into the sonic universe that defines Granduciel and his ensemble: “Pain,” “An Ocean in Between the Waves,” “Red Eyes.” Nothing overdone, everything accurate. Not in the sense of “controlled”, but in the sense that nothing was left to chance.
Adam Granduciel appeared, as ever, half present, half in his own world. He spoke to the audience, recognized fans, told stories and responded to requests. A front character with both distance and presence — and perhaps a hint of sarcasm that never really left the tone. “I'm here to please,” he said, and no one doubted.
The setlist was generous and long. 7 men on stage, and yet no mess. They played an acoustic version of “Eyes to the Wind,” which seemed like a much-needed art break amid the big, dreamy soundscape. And as “Under the Pressure” rolled in over Lunden like a sonic tidal wave, it seemed only natural that it be followed up by “I Don't Live Here Anymore” -- featuring the introduction of each band member during the lengthy intro loop.
The concert ended, as it was supposed to, with “Thinking of a Place”. The moon looked forward behind the tree crowns, and there was something almost liturgical about the ending. The lulling tone seemed deliberate -- not a bang, but a sigh. A recognition that the greatest is not always the highest.
Conclusion without conclusion:
Mew and The War on Drugs didn't just play gigs — they created a space where longing could be allowed to be honest. And in that room, we were reminded that there are still musicians who think so. An evening borne of technical excess, artistic integrity and surroundings that hit it all in beautifully.
