The Wonder Ballroom has long been a springboard for queer pop icons launching into the stratosphere, from Durand Bernarr’s concert last spring ahead of his Grammy win to the local stop nearly 20 years ago of Lady Gaga’s Fame Ball tour.
Swedish producer and beatsmith Cobrah slithered into Wonder’s pantheon on Wednesday, April 1 during her sold-out concert. Promoting her debut full-length album Torn and a trio of preceding EPs, Cobrah’s tightly efficient hourlong set brought a bit of Berghain to Portland. Lesbians danced with gays, theys, and an assortment of leather-clad bisexuals as Cobrah—AKA Clara Christensen—sang and danced with two brunette backup performers, all clad in beige-nude lingerie and body stockings.
The BDSM world informs Cobrah’s music, and Torn, like her EPs Icon, Cobrah, and Succubus, indeed sounds like it would rotate heavily in our bath houses and, ahem, adult lifestyle clubs. Moody songs with pulsing beats and machine-like synths set a vibe that’s as much about joining the action as it is taken in as a voyeur. Cobrah has worked with some of slut pop’s weirdo supremes, including Ashnikko, CupcakKe, LSDXOXO, and Charli xcx, honing her craft and tastes all the while. Her bass-heavy tracks, with Portland’s crowd swaying in time, made Wonder’s floor bounce and heave not unlike a certain cross-town venue’s floating ballroom floor.
Christensen’s platinum blonde hair wafted in pop diva wind between songs, thrashing like white lightning when headbanging. She opened her set with “IG,” a song about being hot and serving—which, granted, is what most of Cobrah’s songs are about, though this one specifically is about how she murders the social media game with her beauty and fashion. Christensen’s eyebrow-free, alien-like appeal aesthetically aligns with Julia Fox, Mother Monster, Yolandi Vasser, and Amanda Palmer.
Young women within earshot were openly enamored with Cobrah and her dancers’ sensual stage show, which included a silhouette dance behind a large screen for Torn’s title track, and a group chair dance during Succubus track “Suck,” a song about (you guessed it) oral sex. But not with dick and cock—there’s a time and place for that, like birthday dinners. No, this one is about the ecstasy of sucking clit. Given how Portland is now down its only full-time lesbian bar in recent memory, it was all the more meaningful a moment for fans who need their tastes reflected.
Cobrah’s music is like what would happen if Trent Reznor wrote for the female gaze (or the auditory equivalent of “gaze”). Masculine and feminine doms hit different, pardon the pun. Just as Cardi B’s Little Miss Drama tour opened stadiums up as safer spaces earlier this year for the shes, gays, and theys to be on their baddest behavior dressed as schoolgirl brats, Cobrah’s one-woman rave was safer from fear of some lurking creep ruining the moment. There was plenty of lingering eye contact in the crowd—more yearning or softcore cruising than outright staring—if anyone took their eyes off the stage.
But Cobrah cares about more than “sucking clit,” as she put it when she addressed the crowd, her soft voice often overpowered by applause when she spoke. “Dog,” a Torn single, laments the disconnect of desire when one partner wants something more substantial than the other. The arrangement seamlessly blends with her other songs, a great effect for losing sense of time and place in carnal fun, but the lyrics go deeper than soundtracking pup play night at the Eagle. Materialistic? Maybe. But the puppies and hillside houses Christensen writes about wanting require deep investments of time and emotional care, just like a life together.
Looking back on old concert review notes, the Wonder Ballroom’s sound system sometimes drowns out vocals with heavier musical arrangements. Cobrah’s lyrics were at times difficult to decipher for likely this reason due to her higher and lighter vocals. But where some people love music for the words, others love it for the groove, which flowed flawlessly between what felt like two acts, broken briefly to give everyone involved a quick breather. Action is another element of Cobrah’s inspirational process, as she’s reportedly written songs while watching trailers for Godzilla or Birds of Prey. Crowd energy can dip if the audience is pushed too hard, but that wasn’t the case here—Cobrah’s immaculate timing and crowdwork allowed for the ride of a lifetime.
Some of the biggest energetic surges came during the last three songs: “Brand New Bitch,” “Feminine Energy,” and the encore “Good Puss.” The former of the three got the floor shaking in a way that felt like the end of the night was nowhere in sight. For how expressive and free-spirited Cobrah’s music is, her concert was a well-oiled, tightly executed machine of a show. Closing out almost precisely at 10:30 left an energetic crowd out to hopefully keep the Wednesday night party going, or at least close out a school night on a euphoric high note. Cobrah’s venomous pop is infectious, and nobody in attendance seemed to want a cure.