Playlist Peek #1: Kings of Convenience
One rainy afternoon as a freshman highschooler, I heard a song on my dialpad phone’s radio that I immediately loved very much. Problem is, I had been in a hurry for a project that day and I didn’t care very much for the lyrics. So it was a tragic mistake when I got home with that same song, so calm and carefree and melancholy, pinging around in my head.
Fast-forward to 2021. I had long gotten over my rock-‘n-roll metalhead phase, and I had been on the hunt for new tunes for over a year. And voila, the YouTube algorithm gifted me with the long-lost song, “Misread,” by Kings of Convenience. Oh, was it ambrosia to my ears—terrible analogy, but that much I can think of, because I was hooked by the first few seconds.
No surprise, I downloaded all their albums in a single night. I even had the gall to share them to some close friends of mine, because that was just how much I adored them. Even better was the fact that their newest album, “Peace and Love,” had been released that same time. The only tragic part? No way in hell would the duo ever come back here for a tour–the last time they arrived here was on March 31, and in Taguig nonetheless. Oh well, least I have something to enjoy my sweet time with.
“Duo who now–?”
Right, right, let me backtrack for a bit. Kings of Convenience is an indie-pop duo from Bergen, Norway, consisting of longtime buddies: adventurous and unpredictable Erlend Øye, and quiet and down-to-earth Eirik Bøe. It all started with a stupidly comedic rap about a teacher (very mature–but hey, we all start somewhere). After a short gig at sweet sixteen with a couple other buddies, in the form of the band Skog, they broke apart and this left only Oye and Boe, who then formed the band, Kings of Convenience. And while some spending some time in London in 2001, they, with the help of Coldplay producer Ken Nelson, they found immediate success through their debut album Quiet Is The New Loud. Come October 2000, the release of their exclusive album Playing Live In A Room, and then 2004, the birth of Riot In An Empty Street wherein they produced “Misread.” Several albums later, several long and painful but worthwhile waits for each release, one joyous mid-pandemic comeback later, and the rest is history.
I’ll admit, the band is one of the best things that I ever came across (alongside Punch Brothers, Whitney, Watchhouse and many more–which will be for another time). If I could describe my encounter with whatever personification their songs have, it pretty much broke down the front gates, barged through my door, dragged me awake and struck me right in the heebie-jeebies–before making me a warm cup of tea and carefully tucking me back to bed and giving me a kiss on the forehead before singing me to sleep…rendering me unable to sleep because of how damn good it all sounded. And I ended up listening to KoC almost everyday–let’s say, “Angel” during the early mornings, “Rocky Trail” and “Toxic Girl” (lyrics be damned) on a cheerful sunny day while doodling in my room, perhaps “Fever” on a rainy day with a warm cup of noodles and coffee (or when I do have a fever…I don’t remember the last time I had one, so, yay?), or let’s say “Summer on the West Hill”, and “Me In You” during the sunset as I sit outside staring and the last rays of light swathe the environment in soft pinks and gold, or say, “Comb My Hair” on a quiet evening while I am contemplating alone in my room and…yeah, combing my hair. And no, none of those songs are exclusive to said situations. And at this point, there is no way in hell I could ever give up my love for them.
Aw, shoot. Those were the very same words I have told myself long ago, during happier days of yore when I was an Imaginary Dragons and Fall Out Boy fangirl. Alright, alright, I won’t take those words to heart for fear of jinxing it. But you get my point right there. So please, I ask you, give those wonderful bros and their masterpieces a good listen–hopefully it may be to your taste.
