A few weeks back in the midst of a disasterous Luxair flown trip to Blighty, I took in ABBA Voyage, and since then I’ve told anyone who will listen about it. Most of the folk who know me won’t know that I love ABBA. They think, ‘but you only like new music’, ‘ABBA? You? Jog on’, ‘oh, look at you edgelord*'. They’d prefer to think I am lying rather than admit that ABBA are peak pop. Legends. No arguments.
Staged inside the purpose-built ABBA Arena in London, the show blends cutting-edge motion-capture technology, real-time rendering, and a phenomenally tight live band to resurrect the group in their prime. It is nominally full of glittered up party goers and professional rug cutters. The type of people who are a ticking time bomb at a wedding reception’s free bar.
It’s the matinee perfomance I am attending.
On a Sunday.
The level of sozzled is only rivalled by the amount of smiles painted on the glimmering faces of the ‘here to have it’ crews. Everywhere there are bottles of ‘Secco and Lambrini. Lipstick encrusted straws hanging at half mast. The atmosphere is one of joy mixed with expectation and for a baltic weekend afternoon in a rather drab corner of the former Olympic Village and under the shadow of the Arcelor tower (25 QUID FOR A SLIDE, no, ta...) getting inside and seated is key.
Now, there are many pricing tiers. You can be in the mix of it on the dancefloor, inxecplicably more expensive than the general ticketing. You can have 3 cat. seating prices, or for the bone fide fans, you can hire a ‘pod’ seated area.
The “ABBAtars,” crafted through years of digital performance capture, move with uncanny smoothness under Arena-wide lighting rigs and immersive projection screens, creating a spectacle that sits somewhere between a concert, a theatrical illusion, and a multi-million-euro tech experiment. Even when the artifice peeks through, the scale of the ambition is undeniable.
It’s a technical feat that few artists could even attempt, let alone pull off with this level of showmanship, at times it does look a bit like a cut-scene from a newly released videogame, or a cut price anime, or a deleted scene from Tron... the dead eyes giving more than a touch of The Polar Express. And the ‘costume changes’ while cute are also bookended by cod ‘we are talking to you’ missives from the band, as they are now, reflecting on what they were then.
The production leans heavily on the legacy of a band whose history is as fascinating as their melodies are enduring. ABBA, Agnetha, Björn, Benny and Anni-Frid first rose to global fame in the ’70s with a blend of sophisticated pop, heartbreak lyrics, and unapologetic theatricality. After their 1982 split and decades of refusals to reunite, the idea of seeing them “live” again once felt impossible.
Voyage cleverly sidesteps that impossibility by offering a digital resurrection rather than a nostalgic tribute act, preserving the band at their shimmering, velvet-jumpsuit peak. For fans who thought they’d never witness anything approaching an ABBA concert, this is as close as reality will ever get.
Yet the experience does come with a peculiar emotional wrinkle: the oddity of applauding an avatar. It’s really hard, though, to whoop and holler for something that it is not really there. Especially when, stage left, there’s a real band belting out the hits. And they do that with gusto.
No matter how astonishing the tech may be, there are moments when the illusion falters, a slightly too-fluid gesture, a smile that doesn’t quite reach the eyes, or a lighting cue that reminds you everything onstage is, technically, not there.
Those “uncanny valley” beats don’t ruin the show, but they do momentarily break the spell, prompting audiences to exchange the classic “Did you see that?” glance. It’s a reminder that while Voyage pushes the frontier of digital performance, it also exposes its seams in ways that will feel stranger as years pass and expectations rise.
But even with its cracks, ABBA Voyage works for one essential reason: the songs are unimpeachable. From “The Winner Takes It All” to “Voulez-Vous,” “Gimme! Gimme! Gimme!” and “Dancing Queen,” the setlist proves why ABBA’s music continues to dominate generations: I attended with my eldest son (17), father in law (age withheld) and brother in law (mid-30s) and we all had a common factor to experience and enjoy.
Melodically sharp, emotionally direct, and endlessly infectious, when the crowd sings along, the technology fades into the background, replaced by the communal joy of pop perfection.
Voyage is not the future of concerts, one would hope - I’ve no interest in seeing a holographic Cobain, for example, nor is it a replacement for human performance. But as far as it is a bold hybrid experiment, powered by one of the greatest catalogues in pop history, it’s a triumphant, glitter-soaked celebration that delivers far more than novelty.
For ABBA fans, it’s as magical as it is surreal, and absolutely worth the applause, even if the performers can’t hear it.
*even if they used edgelord incorrectly.
