Of Monsters & Men, live at the Olympia

If they ask me to do the hokey-cokey next, I swear I might go postal. Here we are, primed and ready for a soft acoustic encore from the Icelandic wing of the new folk revolutionary army and the entire audience has been asked by vocalist Raggi Þórhallsson – politely, playfully, but quite insistently – to turn around and face the other direction for at least one verse. For no real apparent reason.

It follows an already ‘interactive’ show, where the crowd are expected to be a kind of eighth band member, clapping constantly, waving their arms, bellowing along as mammoth ‘oh-oooohh’ vocal hook follows gargantuan ‘la la la’ vocal hook. They duly oblige, lapping up the sense of joyous togetherness Of Monsters & Men are on a mission to spread. But they can’t keep their eyes off them for long.
It is so far, so very good for the relatively fledgling band formed when other lead vocalist Nanna Bryndís Hilmarsdóttir decided to add to her Songbird solo project. In the past year, their debut album My Head Is An Animal has taken on America, hitting the top 10 on the Billboard chart, and they’ve toured the world to widespread acclaim. There is, however, possibly nowhere that has embraced them quite so warmly as Ireland. They’ve been No. 1 and tonight’s Olympia gig has been feverishly anticipated since they wowed the Electric Picnic last September. You can understand why people are lapping them up. In this post-Mumfordian world, the likes of The Lumineers are capitalising on the hunger for pastoral, healing fare and Of Monsters & Men combine that aesthetic with some of the anthemic, quasi-spiritual aspects of Arcade Fire. They also have a similarly extensive cast of players. So accordions are produced, every member seems to sing, and the animated, nattily-attired Arnar Rósenkranz Hilmarsson pounds the drums like his life depends on it.
It’s a credit to their writing that they already have half-a-dozen numbers that can work an audience up into a frenzy. The likes of ‘Little Talks’ and ‘Mountain Sound’ are impressive, built to burrow their way immediately into your brain, but they can blend into one long bluster. In contrast, when they do take the tempo down they struggle. ‘Love Love Love’ is met with distracted audience chatter, and that “turn around!” shout keeps attention away from a maudlin wisp of a song. Thankfully, things end on a properly climatic high-point that suggests they won’t end up a one-note “Of Mumfords & Men’ act. ‘Yellow Light’ begins like a slightly less sedated xx song, of all things, before building and building into a swirling cacophony of sound.