If you were to ask me what album defined my year of 2024, in a heartbeat, I would answer Revelation by Leif Vollebekk. A cinematic masterpiece is often how I describe it—pure magnificence throughout, and to put the album into words is simply impossible. Listeners begin their journey through Vollebekk’s album wide-eyed and optimistic. From the album’s beginning, the tone is immediately established thanks to Vollebekk’s swelling instrumentals and a determined pace in his opening track, “Rock and Roll”. Leif Vollebekk manages to create an entire album with this transcendent feeling, and I found his live performance to be nothing short of that. I struggle to call it a concert, as it felt more akin to an intimate evening with Vollebekk, as he took us, the audience, on an emotional voyage.

Touring his newest album, Revelation, Leif Vollebekk also played a selection from the rest of his discography, including classics from his albums Twin Solitude (2017) and New Ways (2019). Hearing Vollebekk’s growth and consistency over the past few decades is defined by him carving out a unique place in the music scene. Vollebekk has the ability to coexist in the realm of Folk, Jazz, Rock, and Soul, an attribute of his I’ve always admired. One moment, he’s at the piano, driving the song with nothing but his voice. The next moment, the track’s drums appear to hold a loose yet tight 4/4 groove, and Vollebekk has quickly swapped out his acoustic guitar for his electric, breaking out one of the most mind-blowing solos I’ve ever heard live. 

With noted influences ranging from Leonard Cohen and Nick Drake to Rihanna and D’Angelo, as well as modern-day artists like Angie McMahon and Gregory Alan Isakov, Vollebekk truly embodies a “for the love of the game” attitude towards music. I find myself leaning into genre-ambiguous artists like Leif Vollebekk; I feel as though they possess a particular understanding that good music transcends any labels. 

An unapologetic romantic, Vollebekk sings of love as a captive entity, rather than an overwhelming, saccharine-sweet thing, while also blending it with a sense of newness, uncertainty, and complete enthrallment. In a world full of polarizing love songs, I find his music to be the perfect middle ground. His narrator-like lyricism and unorthodox cadences reflect those of Leonard Cohen and Bob Dylan. As the skilled wordsmith he is, he pulls off existing as a storyteller in this billowing, slightly off-kilter place, reflecting in awe but never regret. Listening to Leif Vollebekk will have you thinking that poet might be a more fitting title for him.

Throughout the evening, Vollebekk played a four-person job, at times sitting at the piano, moving his fingers to play the synth that sat atop it, with his guitar in his lap and a harmonica holder around his neck. “He’s really feeling the music,” I overheard a concertgoer say. As someone who has spent the past six years watching and listening to Vollebekk’s performances online, I’m no stranger to this attribute of his; in fact, it was something I’d long awaited to experience in person. 

Vollebekk holds the weight of something akin to a modern-day Mozart for me. He cultivates a unique presence with his music, his mannerisms becoming a distinct yet integral emotional note of his live performances over the years. With every lean into the piano, he almost seemed to melt into the soundwaves. To call him a musician playing instruments would be a tremendous understatement; I instead see him as an artist who paints his music.

Vollebekk’s captive storytelling is not only found through song. Throughout the night, Vollebekk made multiple pauses to tell a story or pin down a long, winding string of metaphors, making for an interactive evening full of laughs (and yee-haws). From the beginning, Leif mentioned his love for performing in Dallas, TX, and holding particularly fond memories of The Kessler, which was his first venue in town. The small, sold-out venue played into an evening that felt not only exclusive, but remarkably intimate. The way the crowd filled in choruses and even harmonized (a surprise to him, he noted), spoke to his listeners in attendance. The performance felt rather sentimental, especially being his last stop on his U.S. tour.

Leading into it with a rendition of “Take It To The Limit” by the Eagles, he ended the night at the piano with “Transatlantic Flight,” a 7-minute song that has arguably become a defining one of Vollebekk’s discography. This piece live was something I was eager to hear, as his Live at the Roy Thomson Hall performance of this song is something I’ve become well-acquainted with over the past six years (I may or may not account for a couple hundred of those views…).

The song opened with airy drums that slowly built to create a vast expanse of sound, setting the scene for the track to unfold. Around the stirring instrumentals, Vollebekk’s baritone voice drove the song with repeated lines and an increasingly dramatic piano arrangement, encapsulating a growing sense of desire that eventually broke out into surrender. Ending with this track felt rather appropriate, as if to land the metaphorical plane we were on that evening.

When I think of modern legends, Leif Vollebekk is one of the first artists that comes to my mind. This experience further cemented my long-held belief that Vollebekk is one of this generation’s most talented artists.  I can’t imagine a world in 10-20 years, where we look back on this decade of music, and his name does not stand out. Hearing him live felt like being part of a significant piece of music history, something I’ll be dwelling in for the foreseeable future.