In a concrete building next to Gamla, beefy Oslo men can be seen through the glass windows pummeling away on gym machines. It’s a very different atmosphere in the venue, where Ingeborg Oktober has silenced the room with her songs that are at once sturdy and tender. Backed by a band of blokes in black, Ingebord’s voice dances around the organ melody, singing in Norwegian somewhere between traditional folk and the sadness of a long lost bar chanteuse who knows that these won’t be the last boys she serenades off to certain death on the frontline.