The film about Kal P Dal is as much a tribute to a friend as it is a loving portrait of Skåne’s perhaps greatest rock icon. Lundagård’s Hannes Eriksson Ahlström sees a documentary whose risque quality can be to its advantage.
When Carl Sven-Göran Ljunggren broke through in the 70s, he succeeded in something remarkable. At his concerts, arch-enemies ragga and punk united to rock out together to his swinging Scanian. 47 years since the debut album Till mossan now comes the documentary about Ljunggren – better known under the stage name Kal P Dal. There seem to be plenty of faithful fans even today, because it is not the first time that his music career has been portrayed.
In the past it has staged a musical about the artist, and last year a tribute concert was held at Malmö Live. In the Movie about Kal P Dal, we get closer to the person behind the artist. The audience gets to follow Ljunggren from growing up in Arlöv, through Swedish folk park tours, to his death, just 35 years old.
Even as a child, his plans for the future were laid out: he would become a rock star. In a fast-paced Lund, he took every chance to appear on stage. A few minutes of break during a concert meant a chance for Ljunggren to get on stage and try out some new songs.
The Lund student will recognize most places where Kal P Dal’s gang moves. At the same time, it is a different city on display. Instead of spex and nations, it’s rock’n’roll, medium beer and mopeds that flit around between southwestern Skåne’s village caves. While the academics gathered in the AF-borgen, Kal P Dal’s gang from the working class is still on Lundagård’s lawns.
With a “do it yourself” mentality, Carl Ljunggren’s music career is growing. Sing about what you want, learn some chords on the guitar and find some like-minded people to be on stage with. While the major music genre of the time – prog – had become increasingly rigid and dogmatic, Kal P Dal came to be loved for its simplicity and welcoming music. Instead of singing about the working class, Kal P Dal wanted an audience that was actually working class.
In the documentary get you follow when the first album “Till mossan” comes out. Behind the levers sits the reggae artist Peps Persson, while the studio was filled with screaming fans. Kal P Dal wasn’t looking for the crunchy studio sound – the recordings would be as noisy as his stage performances – you’re where you find the feeling.
Cover: People’s houses and parks
The same can probably be said about this documentary.
Its strength is definitely not its movie quality. Most interviews seem to be conducted with the mobile camera and there seems to be limited moving material to use. The documentary must therefore work with other ways of portraying, where animation and visual material take up a lot of space. It works for the whole, but honestly doesn’t look very nice.
But perhaps this is precisely what gives the documentary its feel. Those interviewed are friends and relatives, people who were closest to Carl Ljunggren. The fact that it is not a multi-million dollar production makes it feel small-scale and local, a tribute to a friend and idol – a way to remember and preserve someone close to them.
As the audience can you forgive the dubious quality when you get a genuine and heartwarming portrait instead. During the poorly lit interviews, a portrait of Kal P Dal is created both as a person as well as an artist, and one cannot resist longing back to an energy-filled and petrol-oozing 70s.
