The next time I'm in a conversation with someone fretting over the death of creativity in the face of modern technology, I'll meet them with two words: Abba Voyage.
Much has been written about this blockbuster show in London's East End, which has been reliably selling out the 3,000 places in its arena (1,650 seats and 1,350 packed onto a dance floor) since it launched in May of 2022. It's as good as everyone says.
Show veterans talks about the stunning realism, and I have to join that chorus. These aren't just four avatars (here called ABBAtars) performing music. Everything has been calculated to reinforce the feel of a live show. Giant video screens offer close ups of the performers you're watching at a distance. A live band with backup singers adds to the rich musical soundscape and interacts with the digital stars. There are breaks for costume changes and pauses while each band member talks to you. Not only is it the real Agnetha, Bjorn, Benny and Anni-Frid coming up with and delivering the words, but they acknowledge with wry humour the technology that allows them to be here and look so good.
They're in on the joke.
It's their personal involvement, I suspect, that hammers home the authenticity. They drove all the creative decisions. Spoke the words. Sang the songs. Wore the motion capture suits to ensure the movements were theirs. (Except for one dance routine that ... as fit as she's remained ... would have been well past the capabilities of the now 78-year-old Anna-Frid.) Could you deploy this technology to bring The Rat Pack, Prince or Maria Callas? Sure. But I suspect you'd never approach the authenticity that hands-on involvement brings here.
In every way that matters, this is an ABBA concert. Which is something that a great many of their fans have never seen, given that the band broke up in 1982 and hasn't performed live together since. That's despite the fact that the Mamma Mia franchise has made them a greater phenomenon now than they were the first time around, especially in the States, where they were never that big in my youth.
Another realistic touch is the inclusion of a few songs only superfans are likely to know (The Visitors, Eagle), and the latest stuff that's not been accepted into the canon yet (I Still Have Faith in You). That last one was very poignant, as was the final touch of the show which clearly counts as a spoiler. I won't blow it for you, but it's the icing on this very sweet and moreish cake.
Reviews have underplayed the incredible lighting design, which is worth a visit even if you're not a fan of the music. Those of you who go into raptures over Yayoi Kusamana's light installations need to get to this show, which is clearly influenced by that artist's work. In the arrangement most like her Infinity Mirror Rooms currently on at Tate Modern, strings of lights rise, fall and alternate colours in the open space before you, reflected to infinity on giant screens around you and behind the band. It's breathtaking. In other noteable pieces circular baffles drop from the ceiling to dip, sway and swirl with lights zipping around their edges. At other times strips of light zoom continuously around the whole arena. These effects make you part of the show, whether you're in the seats or shaking your stuff on the dance floor.
At other times the lights combine with the high-resolution screens wrapping around the stage to create some staggering illusions, particularly one where the band, in Tron-style costumes, seems to be singing in outer space. The graphic design is so perfect that comets wink in and out as they cross behind the rings of a planet. It comes as no surprise to discover that the production comes from Industrial Light and Magic, the Star Wars people.
It's all possible because the arena was purpose built, designed to accommodate the creative vision of the band for each song. And like a real concert, lights and video take over at points as the band retires to take a rest or change costumes. They're digitally generated so don't need to, obviously, but that's another small touch that adds to the reality. Another advantage of the digital production, of course, is that there's little need for a "backstage". Most of the arena's footprint is what you see, either in the entry concourse or the performance area.
It is all, evidently, a bit like a giant flat-pack, designed to be quickly disassembled and moved somewhere else. Although with crowds streaming in, there seems little point to bother before their permission runs out and they're forced to give way to a housing development in 2026.
Given the enormous care with which this has all been crafted, I suspect there are plans for it to run and run. Three glaring omissions ... Take a Chance on Me, Super Trooper and Money, Money, Money ... suggest the ability to refresh the show so that returning fans get something a bit new, just like seeing a live act for a second time. Most professional reviewers have suggested those three numbers have been created and are sitting on the digital shelf just waiting for the point when ticket sales need an injection to be added in to an updated show.
A few additional logistics points:
- The arena has its own exit on the DLR, in between Canary Wharf and Stratford, called Pudding Mill. We backtracked through Stratford on the way home. Slightly longer but a better chance of a seat.
- The prompt 7:45 start time with no warm up acts (now there's an improvement on a live concert!) and no intermission means that you're probably heading home before whatever is playing at the 02 lets out. We stayed up in town because we were worried about the commute home but we could have easily made it.
- The arena opens at 6 and promises a range of dining options. Don't believe them. It's one food stand with carb-heavy fast food options and no place to sit. We should have gone a bit earlier and headed over to the collection of street food vendors next door, where I suspect we would have gotten a much nicer dinner.
- They sell re-fillable water bottles for a much higher price than the regular plastic ones. Unless you're desperate to get a branded bottle, skip this. There are no obvious refill points, other than standing in the always-long bar and food stand queues, and once the show starts it's so compelling and goes so fast you're not going to want to leave for a refill anyway.
- The standing room dance floor was PACKED. If you don't like crowds, this is not the way to go. They all looked like they were having a blast but it definitely wasn't for me.
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