Jenny Hval is an illusionist. Nothing in her artistic world is quite what it seems. For sixty absorbing minutes tonight she has us in her utter and complete thrall. From the moment she steps onto the dimly lit stage in her grey jogging suit and long black synthetic wig, clutching a partially deflated exercise ball, until she leaves one hour later minus the hairpiece and dressed in Lycra leggings and top, we cannot be sure what will happen next.
The Norwegian artist is here as part of a European tour in support of her third album Apocalypse, girl. Released earlier this year to almost universal acclaim, its confrontational lyrical themes and irregular sonic experimentation sets both Jenny Hval and the record apart from most, if not all of this year’s contemporaries. To borrow from her self-proclamation on ‘Why This?’ – one of several songs from Apocalypse, girl that are performed this evening – it is a work of great complexity and intellectualism.
And when it is re-located into a live setting, the cerebral nature of Hval’s music 
becomes even more compelling. The ambiguous, ephemeral nature of her many personas is like one constant sleight of hand. Finding herself immersed in a musical landscape haunted by the phantoms of improvisation, expressionism and individuality, Hval does not take fright. Instead she embraces the spirits of earlier female musical visionaries Laurie Anderson, Alice Coltrane and Annette Peacock and harnesses them to the twisted sounds of her male collaborator’s electronics, organ and treated heavenly choirs as they ebb and flow between softer, reflective orchestration and dark industrial grooves.
Midway through her set and having just emerged from one particularly disturbing, cathartic and extended passage of pop-noir, Jenny Hval recognises that “it was all a bit much” and promises us a “breather”. This emotional respite then comes courtesy of Lana Del Rey‘s “Summertime Sadness”. Not so much a cover but more an attempt at covering a feeling she tells us, Hval sits atop her exercise ball and proceeds to stare intently into her iPhone as her disembodied voice envelopes the room. As a piece of performance art it is as powerful as it is unexpected.
During ‘The Battle Is Over’ a keyboard dies. Hval blames herself, citing her biology as the explanation for this malfunction. With the assistance of ghosts in the room she continues into a transcendental ‘Holy Land’ where she goes through the ritual of laying her jogging suit and wig on the stage and laying down beside them. Having shed one skin, Hval now inhabits another. It is triumphal, artistic abreaction. To hear her speak so humorously after the show about the Fair Trade banana on the merchandise table merely adds to what is the unique mystery of her true identity.
More photos from this show can be found here
