Todd Rundgren played Amager Bio on Tuesday night with a show that moved between grand guitar solos, theatrical gestures, and brass arrangements so odd they were impossible to resist. A concert that reminded us that versatility does not have to mean a lack of focus — not when it’s delivered by someone who has lived the whole history of music at once.
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Disclaimer: Apropos Magazine received access or a review copy. As always, we share our own impressions — unfiltered.
Six stars
There are concerts you go to for reassurance, and then there are the rare ones where you walk in without quite knowing what to expect. Todd Rundgren at Amager Bio was very much the latter. The kind of experience that only turns up once every ten years and feels a little like finding a secret door in music history. The last time he stood on Danish soil was in 2013, and back then I didn’t even live in the country — so I’d had more than a decade to look forward to it.
Todd Rundgren has been at it since the 1960s, both as a solo artist, bandleader in Utopia, and producer for everyone from Meat Loaf to Patti Smith. He has had more musical eras than most artists have had albums, and you can hear it. If I had to boil the whole concert down to one word, it would be versatile. Not as in confused or fragmented, but as in: here stands a man who has lived every musical life there is to live — and still finds new ways to be Todd Rundgren.
The show started exactly at 8:00 p.m. No intro, no waiting around, just a six-piece band, half of them wearing sunglasses indoors in that very specific old-school way — where they don’t look cool, but become cool precisely because they don’t try. Priceless. The opening number sounded like a Utopia track that maybe couldn’t quite fill a stadium, but fit Amager Bio perfectly. Rundgren moved straight from towering guitar solos to almost Sting-like ballads, though with one crucial difference: you could actually hear more than the last two words of every sentence.
His voice was surprisingly intact — crisp, clear, and full of character. On “Wouldn’t You Like to Know,” he stood in the middle of the stage with a single beam of light on him, and for a moment it felt as if he were singing both intimately and to everyone at once. It was one of those moments that made the room fall completely silent.
Another highlight was “Kindness,” where Rundgren picked up a baton and began conducting half the band. It was theatrical and deeply felt, and actually quite beautiful. Several of the songs featured strange brass instruments and flutes that were hard to place — and that was exactly why it worked. Rundgren has clearly tried most things before, but he still wants to play.
When he sang “Stag” during one number, he made a hand gesture that looked like the dinner scene in Pan’s Labyrinth — hands raised in front of his face, as if he were singing through a visual language. If you couldn’t hear the lyrics, you could read them in his movements. Priceless again.
Further on, he started scratching at his guitar and rapping a little. Suddenly it sounded like Rage Against the Machine on Valium. I’m not entirely sure what was going on, but bizarrely, it worked. Not because of the energy — Rundgren doesn’t exactly give off Zack de la Rocha vibes — but because he simply refused to be predictable.
At the end, he pinched his nose to create an extra nasal vocal sound. It was one of those moments where you think: this is either genius or too much. But that’s Rundgren. He is constantly in motion, and you never know whether he’s making art or caricature.
The encores began with a medley of the biggest hits. It felt like a deliberate gesture: he has played them so many times that he simply refuses to take them seriously anymore. Even so, this was the first time he really addressed the audience and asked us to sing along — half ironically, half sincerely. When the concert ended, he walked down to the edge of the stage, signed records, and handed out high-fives.
Todd Rundgren at Amager Bio was not a nostalgic evening, nor was it a straight-up showcase of old hits. It was a glimpse into the mind of an artist who refuses to go on autopilot. Versatile, playful, messy, and utterly alive.
If you go to concerts to feel that someone still loves standing on a stage, you should have been there.
