The joyride ends for Roxette

This weekend, I walked out of a Roxette concert. So, a disclaimer: this is a reaction, not a review.

I can’t assess the event overall, though I will explain why I couldn’t remain inside Johannesburg’s cavernous, echoey Dome till the end.

I first saw Roxette live in the early Nineties at the height of their fame. That concert, at a packed Ellis Park, was a brilliant blast of slick Swedish pop, driven by the spirited performances of Marie Fredriksson and Per Gessle. Two decades on, I expected an enjoyable walk down memory lane with much less dancing – and yes, the entire audience was seated.

But it wasn’t just that everyone there, both on and off the stage, had aged. In 2002, Fredriksson was diagnosed with a malignant brain tumour. After surgery and intensive treatment she had to relearn reading and writing. She remains blind in one eye.

Her recovery was remarkable. She released solo music in 2004 and 2006, and in 2009 started performing once again with Gessle as Roxette. Two new albums and touring followed. All’s well that ends well, right?

Then her bandmates led her onto the stage on Sunday night and helped her into a chair, where she sat, looking frail, barely moving while singing. That famous voice, the essence of Roxette’s unique sound, was mostly there, yet she faltered on some notes and her timing was uneven. The first time she spoke to the audience – about five songs in, before doing a solo number with the help of a back-up singer – her speech seemed strained. No close-up shots appeared on the big screens. What was this?

A year ago, a review of a Roxette show by The West Australian newspaper started: “OK, let’s address the elephant in the room first thing. Roxette lead singer Marie Fredriksson is not well.” There she had still stood upright on stage, at least for part of the concert.

This weekend the band rallied around her and Gessle did a great job at picking up the slack but, indeed, Fredriksson was not well. She was struggling, with no explanation given or acknowledgment of allowances made for her. Was she persevering against the odds? Was she forced onto the stage by her bandmates?

Nothing as cruel, perhaps. Had the band taken us into their confidence – to pay tribute to Frederiksson’s efforts, contextualising her health issues – the dynamics could have been different. But everyone on stage acted like nothing was wrong. The other band members were in fine form, rolling out the hits. The audience cheered often and loudly.

Yet it broke my heart.

I’m sure most fans admired Fredriksson for her bravery, for being on stage at all. There was no lack of crowd support. But I’d never been to a concert that left me sombre when I should have been cheering.

After she’d sung her first solo ballad, I knew one of their biggest hits, so dependent on her vocals, wasn’t far off. That would have been far too poignant. As I left, the first strains of that song rang out.

It must have been love, but it’s over now.