Guardian: 4/5 For all the iciness, there was a beating heart in there
Observer: You emerge from tonight’s gig with a sense of mystery and possibility intact, something all too rare in these over-examined times.
Independent: 4/5 Her voice live can be as sharp and as sourly powerful as it is on record. Wrung through a voice transformer, as on “Concrete Walls”, it’s a growl that sounds like it’s escaped from a deep underground lair.
Resident Advisor: 5/5 A genius of singing, songwriting, musicianship and pure stage theatre, Karin Dreijer Andersson has it all, and as long as the results are like this she’s welcome to tease us with as many “farewell tours” as she likes.
Drowned In Sound: ‘Coconut’ slams great divots into my already battered skull, and by the end even the sound men are trying to rupture my senses, as the bass is turned up to a slightly comical ‘eardrum purification’ level. You just gotta love that shit.
MusicOHM: 4/5 A magnificent albeit quirky experience, a fitting accompaniment to the music’s mysterious charm.
DJMag: Cue a change in lighting to strafing lasers for the final few tracks, accompanied by echoing subterranean bass that gives even DMZ a run for their money, and you leave feeling you’ve experienced that rare thing; a music artist who genuinely justifies that title
Scotsman: The audience cheered their favourite tracks but this was a seamless performance to be absorbed as a total experience.
The Fly: Everything from the brisk beat of ‘Seven’ and the creepy sprawl of ‘Concrete Walls’ to perhaps the most obvious fan favourite, ‘When I Grow Up’, works in sync with the live visuals so perfectly you don’t know whether to dance or just stare, slack-jawed and in awe.
Fever Ray at Olympia by Oliver Peel