Jens

My very favorite Swedish pop rocker, Jens Lekman, played a show at the Logan Square Auditorium Friday night.

I knew almost immediately upon entering this semblance of a high school gymnasium that this would be something special. Jens did not disappoint. Fronting an all-female, six- person instrumental outfit that included a saxophone, a ukulele, and a beautifully placed triangle, Jens was like Robert Palmer, only with less leather and more tearful references to past relationships. (Ben's analogy....)

Amazingly, my concert-going peers were able to watch Jens' outpouring of emotion and joy without letting the rhythm take them over, even a little bit. Staring mournfully into their import beers, their hightop shoes remained rooted to the ground. Never one to miss the chance to get my groove on to tunes about slicing avocados and vandalizing mercedes benz, I pushed my way next to the only people in the crowd who were having a good time and commenced to start a three person dance party. As we were in the center of a stationary crowd, we earned the ire of a few of our neighbors, but I think deep down, they too wanted to answer Jens' enthusiasm and sincerity with their own gift of feeling. (Or maybe they hate fun, who knows.)

It is simply joyful music, sincere and universal. He draws upon experiences both entirely surreal and completely relatable. In "A Postcard to Nina" Jens sings of finding himself at the family dinner of a female friend who's told her parents that he's her fiance in order to hide the fact that she's a lesbian. I mean, we've all been there, right? In the sense of love unrequited and expectations impossible to meet, yes. That, I think, is the brilliance of Jens Lekman, the ability to wrap the melancholy in shades of pop so sweet, it makes life's most bittersweet experiences totally danceable.