The Swedish singer Robyn took to the stage in Virginia on Thursday wearing
well, how to describe it? She kind of looked like the Mortal Kombat character Scorpion headed to a post-apocalyptic meth labneon-orange boxing shorts and a hoodie, makeshift plastic-junk boots and shin guards, translucent outerwear resembling a lab coat. Definitely ready for a fight.
As she shimmied and sang, song by song the layers of strange armor fell. By the time she got to her hit Dancing on My Own, she'd exposed her arms and, with her back turned, performed a teenager's pantomime of making out with oneself. Meanwhile, the audiencegayer and more sloshed than likely any that had previously descended on the suburban adult-contemporary temple of the Wolf Trap amphitheaterbelted the first verse acapella.
There it was, the Robyn routine: spiky punk-chic exterior, with a cult cheering the reveal of a sensual pop soul.