The Soundtrack of Our Lives w/Caesars
March 20, 2003, Irving Plaza, NY, NY
On the surface, they might come off as relatively straightforward—a
‘60s rock & roll flashback—but from the second The Soundtrack of
Our Lives took the stage at Irving Plaza, it was evident that they
were far more complicated. Draped in a large black cloak with the TSOOL
insignia on his mic-holding arm, the bearded frontman Ebbot Lundberg
appeared more like a high priest than a rock singer, and the rest of the
band looked like disciples he had recruited from the recesses of an
undiscovered Scandinavian forest. But rock out they did, like the veterans
that they actually are—from the opening chords of Infra Riot to
the contagious riffs of Sister Surround.
Ebbot had a commanding presence, looming at the edge of the stage with
one foot on the monitor, like a Viking captain on the bowsprit of a
longship. His vocal delivery was a bit more subtle and feminine than
expected from such a burly physique, and his voice was laced with a
residue of psychedelic nasal whining from the band’s more psychedelic
days. Ebbot was flanked by dueling guitarists, Ian Person and Mattias Bärjed,
each with their own unique contributions. Ian looked like a stylish
Swedish pirate with manicured 5-day stubble, hoop earrings in both ears,
and a Duran Duran throwback scarf draped over his blonde hairy chest. His
ring-studded fingers were all over the perpetually capo’ed fretboard,
like the strings were being spun by his fingers. He could still lay down
meaty hooks while doing backbends (or letting other members of the band
mash their faces in his crotch). Mattias went more for the mod appeal,
sporting a union jack blazer and executing gymnastic Pete Townsend leg
kicks. Drummer Fredrik Sandsten, looking more like a retired tennis
player, was the solid fixture of the band, keeping a steady double-bass
beat punctuated with raised-arm stick twirls. As the night progressed,
keyboardist Martin Hederos slipped further and further off his stool until
eventually he was groveling on the ground, slurping up remnants from
discarded beer cans. He managed to sober up in time to play the organ that
drives the somber Broken Imaginary Time. But the most memorable
character in troupe was bassist Karl ‘Kalle’ Gustafsson. Sporting
undersized white karate tights, curling flapper sideburns, and a gold
tooth capping his rabbit teeth, Kalle pranced around like a perverse elf,
stroking and pulling on the neck of his bass like he was subduing a wild
goose.
After an energizing set of circus heroics, Ebbot raised his arms in
dramatic fashion and demanded that the ravenous audience sit on the floor
if they wanted an encore—and, like a congregation of true believers,
everybody in the house listened and obeyed. The music was accessible yet
complex; oddly familiar yet refreshing; playful but serious; and European
with universal appeal. And despite the meaningful contradictions and
complex mishmash of sonic styles, they kept the crowd captivated by a
sensation that they were witnessing something entirely new.
get the Soundtrack of Our Lives at 
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