Tina Dico & Thomas Dybdahl- Shepherds Bush Empire, London 15/10/09
4/5
By: Tom Hocknell
Rockfeedback have been observing, and sharing with anyone who’ll listen, (at least those without escape), the seeming endless (glacial) stream of talent emerging from Scandinavia. First up this evening is Thomas Dybdahl, the earnest solo singer/songwriter from Norway.
Supporting artists are forever cursed with sharing a stage with instruments and gadgets they cannot use, in this case a trombone, which stands politely alongside Thomas’ polite presence; it’s hard to know who is more upstanding. He sings the delicate ‘Fall from Grace’ alone, but is briefly joined by a drummer so intense you can see him waving dust motes away, in fear they might land on the off-beat. It’s all folk-blues, reflecting on the passing of love, with the heartbreaking, ‘a glance used to send me to the moon’. The chasm between the delicacy of his guitar and the Walkabout pub next door could not be more profound, although perhaps they had already heard he was not playing ‘Adelaide’, a favourite from his debut. It is a short, well-received set by a hushed, mostly Scandinavian audience, and he shuffles off before any comparisons with Flight of the Concords take hold.
The hush continues for Denmark’s Tina Dico, who grabs the crowd from the start and refuses to let go. She is probably best known for her vocal contributions to Zero 7, if that isn’t faint praise. Such is the rapt power of her voice you could hear the drop of Volvo keys. She guides us through her career, beginning with songs from her 2001 debut Fuel, strumming elegantly on acoustic guitar, perfectly framing her powerful voice. Her regular sidekicks, Helgi Jonsson and Dennis Ahlgren switch around accompanying instruments; drums, trombone and keyboards with a confidence so tight its almost showing off.
For someone with such a masterful handle on lyrics, it’s s shame the song titles are as ubiquitous as her name; almost impossible to remember. But she could hold a tune in a sieve. ‘No Time To Sleep’ typically illustrates her way with an image ‘Some day a lonely busker will come knocking/With a soft and long forgotten song’, while her emotive manipulation of the microphone negates the need for backing singers.
Despite all her songs occupying a similar place, of down-tempo, reflective angst, they are so strongly written, such as ‘Count To Ten’s reflection on isolation in the modern world, that they sound fresh, although the duet, ‘Walls’ with Helgi flirts too successfully with bland.
In a world seemingly awash with female singer/songwriters and MOR ballad puppets, Tina Dico’s name does little to distinguish her, but her palpable talent does, and with her unique voice hypnotising tonight’s crowd it is your loss to miss her live.
Artists in this article: Tina Dico
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