Theresa Andersson performs at The Rivoli

When Theresa Andersson sings it seems less like vocal chords producing sound and more like a sweet bubbling hot spring, or a magician concocting a magical formula of notes and musical arrangements.

This one woman show performed at The Rivoli in Toronto on Friday, August 14th during her first tour in Canada with David Martel after releasing her album “Hummingbird, Go!” about a year ago.
With influences from both her homes, Sweden and New Orleans, Theresa has created a completely unique blending of many sounds which sound as natural and fluid as spontaneous thoughts when playing live.

In red pumps and a white V-neck dress of black and red flowers Theresa conducted her orchestra of one, with two microphones at her helm, a violin hanging below them, two stringed instruments to her left (one being a guitar) a tambourine at her feet and zebra striped drums situated to her right. With what looked like effortless skill she moved from instrument to vocals, recording sounds cued by foot pedals at her feet and then playing them on repeat. One moment she was emitting a series of jazzy percussion-like noises, including claps and cheek popping sounds, and the next she was emitting robust lyrics to her own organic beat.

“Birds fly away. Find shelter. Trees stand strong,” she sang, clenching a raised fist as her eyes flashed below a thick chunk of tousled brunette bangs. Her enthusiasm was infectious as she picked up her tambourine and danced across the stage, her hands and feet a flurry of motion as she stomped and smacked the jangling instrument against her palms, her hips or slammed it down on the drum before her. As she crooned “do, do, do, do, do, doooo,” her arms raised to the ceiling, and her body swayed, a joyful expression lighting up her face. Her childlike excitement and energy absorbing to behold.
As each song began to unfold it was fascinating to watch her layer tunes together, releasing one strand of sound and then overlapping it with longer, higher or lower notes that build and become a thick stew of interwoven harmonies. She lays out each tone like an ingredient from a memorized recipe on her kitchen counter, stirring with enthusiasm and adding zesty new flavors with gusto.

Despite her complex coordination of nimble footwork and instrument manipulation everything runs smoothly from the first note to the last, every sound fitting snuggly into the tapestry with no competition for prominence.

Theresa’s voice always does manage to soar dizzyingly above her homespun melodies, with a powerful vocal range that can croon in light, ethereal tones, sultry rich shades or emotional climaxes of sound.

Her style of recording and repeating sounds during her performance lends itself perfectly to spontaneity and she encouraged enthusiastic audience improvisation from the beginning of her set.

During one rambunctious number as the crowd had started to dance and clap along she bent forward suddenly, flinging her hair over her face and stopping the music abruptly. Unsure of whether the song was finished we emitted a few yells before pausing in anticipation. Through the curtain of her long wavy tresses Theresa beckoned us on with a hand gesture and the room burst into a frenzy of jovial hooting and hollering as she sprang back to life.

This woman who looked like she would be right at home in a meadow of wild flowers began emitting her own pre-recorded voice from the speakers with her hands outstretched and palms splayed. Then she began to scat, explosive, bursting sounds that stormed rapidly out of her lips with barely time for breath, the intensity rising to a fever pitch.

When Theresa returned to the stage for her standing ovation she thanked David Martel, who she met in Nashville, for inviting her on this tour. Her final song puts her in mind of the heavy trials that New Orleans has recently faced. She notes that the city has learnt to respect mother nature. It starts simply, with two phrases sung in a delicate strand. “Find the cost of freedom buried in the ground. Mother earth will swallow you, lay your body down.” She places a fresh stanza over that one, like laying a second pale sheet upon a bare bed.

The words remain the same but she adds deeper tones, and then another, only higher, stretching certain words and sounds. Soon the threads begin to weave through one another, with powerful soprano notes leading the chorus, as the choir-like refrain gains momentum and emotion.

As she finishes the mantra of voices fade away, and all that remains is her solitary voice, which has dropped to her last low and soulful key.