Sohn, the Vienna-based exponent of electronic soul, aka London-born producer/performer Christopher Taylor, has returned home to a lauded debut album, Tremors, and a lot of expectation.
His music is an emotionally charged fusion of R&B and indie synth-pop, heartfelt sadness emboldened by mournful keyboards and a shifting landscape of bleeping beats, skittish percussion and pregnant pauses. It's an intense, intimate sound that requires one-to-one appreciation – preferably in a dark bedroom with noise-cancelling headphones and a recently broken heart – so the first problem Sohn faces is translating his maelstrom of misery to a sold-out crowd.
At first, he can't. The synths of Ransom Notes are too pompous, the vocals too echo-drenched for onlookers to jump straight into, so they chat among themselves instead. On stage, Sohn adds to the aloofness – dressed in a black hooded cloak, he resembles Obi-Wan Kenobi, perched behind his synths and framed by upstanding lightsabers. He is joined by keyboardist Albin Janoska and Stefan Fallmann on bass, who, despite being disguised by dry ice and frenetic lighting, make their presence felt musically through Red Lines' juddering rhythm and the squirming melody of Oscillate.
Sohn's steady voice is clean and clear, adept at riding the climaxes woven through his songs and quick to flutter to an easy falsetto. The a capella beginning of Tempest is a treat, and Sohn emotes enthusiastically before his words get deconstructed into an almost spiritual mantra. But it's not until halfway through the set, with debut 4AD single Bloodflows, that everything falls into place. Suddenly the clickety-clack percussion is pulsating, the synths purr soulfully and the effect is hypnotic. Noticing the change of mood, Sohn encourages the crowd to "keep it going", and they do, through the almost-upbeat, post-party anthem Lights and gasping, whirring brilliance of Lessons. Encore Artifice is evidence of Sohn's sure pop touch and how much he can achieve when he throws a little light on his existential crisis.
