Technically, Jens Lekman still owes me answers. A month prior to last night's show at The Pabst Theater I'd requested an interview. His publicity people said he agreed to do it via e-mail, but I'm still waiting for his responses.

I'd heard he was an easy guy to get a hold of, actually. A friend of mine randomly e-mailed him to ask if he'd play a song or two at his wedding while he was here in Milwaukee -- the type of thing Lekman was notorious for agreeing to a couple years ago -- and he politely wrote back explaining he no longer performs at after parties on tour. Maybe that's what a No. 1 record does to you.

Disappointed as I was at the lost interview opportunity, after last night's show, I feel as though I can forgive the Swedish singer / songwriter for my missed deadline. Lekman's an honest man -- an unabashedly frank and genuinely charming character -- and there's nothing more a fan could decode about his life with a handful of interview questions than they can get from his stage presence.

With little more than the disclaimer: "This song is about cutting out the bullsh*t and getting on with your life," he dove into his opener, "I'm Leaving You Because I Don't Love You." It wasn't too long after that he began answering my questions, one by one.

After a 10- or 15-minute version of "A Postcard to Nina," during which the band paused for Lekman's comedic asides between delightfully energetic bouts of the pre-penned lyrics describing hiding his friend's lesbian lover by pretending to be her boyfriend, I quickly got the sense that much of his work was autobiographical.

Shortly after came the answer to another question regarding his prolific writing pace. After a brief rant about his love / hate relationship with his hometown of Kortedala (after which he names his third Secretly Canadian release, "Night Falls Over Kortedala) he metaphorically called the district a labyrinth that's easy to get into but nearly impossible to escape from, setting the tone for an unreleased song that came to him on a recent Google Maps-aided cab ride out of town, "Directions."

Although Lekman is an unavoidable centerpiece to the performance -- his stage banter was frequent, disarmingly witty and personal (He must have said "Milwaukee" no less than 20 times throughout the night, and it struck me in the way that a person you just met says your name multiple times in a conversation. It was sort of odd, but I got the impression he cared about our little town -- perhaps more so than the audience member who, when asked to shout out the first thing he thinks of when someone references Milwaukee, said "Green Bay.") -- it'd be a crime not to mention his backing band.

Schooled in geek chic, his DJ -- the only other male on stage -- mashed the heavily loaded, swinging samples with the live instrumentation from his all-female quartet, including Madison native Marla Hansen on viola.

Show opener The Honeydrips turned out to be a solo act spearheaded by yet another Gothenburg native, Mikael Carlsson. With nothing more than his MacBook beside him on the immense Pabst stage (save for Lekman's guitar, which he slung across his torso yet never touched during his six-song set), Carlsson's projected his strong, smooth voice across a sea of mostly interested guests. His record, "Here Comes The Future," was was awarded the Manifest prize for pop / electronica album of the year 2007.