After a smattering of well received shows around Iceland and the rest of Europe, Seabear has put an end to its prolonged musical tease with the release of its first album, The Ghost That Carried Us Away, under German label Morr Music. The album is characterized by gentle, breathy vocals set against lo-fi poppy and folkly melodies, acoustic guitar, subdued synths and a host of bells and whistles including some ferocious animal sounds. Sindri Már Sigfússon, the 23-year-old heart and soul of Seabear, sits down with Jonas Moody to discuss his cowboy childhood in Sweden and just how a British insurance company fostered his musical machinations.Moody: You started out as a one-man band. When did you decide to get yourself some sidekicks?
Seabear: It was when I was asked to open for a band called The Books in Germany. I’d never played live before that, so I asked two of my friends to come along. That’s how it started. Then it grew. Now we are about six people, who all play on the album.
M: That must be bedlam. Who plays what?
S: It’s mostly just me in my little studio, working on tiny bits. The whole band never gets together. People just come in, then I make something out of it. So it’s always one-on-one. This way I can…keep my hand around everything. Because it was my solo effort I haven’t let go of that yet. Everybody has their say, but I mix and master the music.
M: You mentioned that this album is more “cowboy”? Can you elaborate? Are we talking about cowboys with spurs chasing Indians, or cowboys who climb lonely mountains and get intimate in pup tents?
S: I said that because it’s so hard to describe the music. I thought if I said something really obscure and broad it would be better than saying nothing at all. So I said, “It’s a cowboy album.” There was something else a reporter wrote that I liked: “If you hold a little carnival in your grandma’s basement with a dancing cactus and an old string of Christmas lights, and then everyone rolled down to the harbor at night to dance and go for a boat ride with Bruce [Springstein] and [Jon] Bon [Jovi] in tow, that would be something close to the feeling in this music.”
M: How did you start playing music?
S: I started playing guitar, but it wasn’t until I was 19 that I started to write and record. I was living in London for art school but got sick. I was in the hospital for three weeks but was actually accidentally insured through my job there. So I got GBP 50 [USD 100, EUR 73] a week for being sick, which I used to buy an acoustic guitar and some recording gear. Before that I was trying to work on the computer. I studied a little on the piano, and as soon as I learned my first chords I tried to make a song. I could never remember the songs I was supposed to learn, but if I did it myself it was simpler.
M: What do you think of the new album?
S: It took a long time, but I learned a lot from the process. The sound is lo-fi, because it’s all recorded with the same microphone. It’s not a big studio sound. Rather intimate. I’m happy with that.
M: Your instrumentation is pretty interesting. There are some animal sounds. I feel the ratchet is a sorely underused piece of percussion, so kudos with that.
S: I have a minidisc recorder, and I like to make sounds longer and reverse them. I also lived in Sweden from two to nine years old. This was before the internet, so I used to record tapes and send them to my grandparents back in Iceland. Like, “Hello, Grandma. I’m playing!” Now I’ve put a lot of those tapes on CD. I used a clip from them at the beginning of the first song, “Good Morning Scarecrow.” My mom is asking me to sing and I’m saying “Nei, ég get ekki sungid!” (No, I can’t sing!) and then I count the song off “einn, tveir, thrír…” (one, two, three…).
M: How important are lyrics to you? They’re not listed in liner notes and the vocals are rather low in the mix. S: Lyrics are the hardest part. I decided not have them in the liner notes because I think it demystifies the songs. I want what I’m saying to be open to interpretation.
M: You and a lot of other Icelandic musicians sings in English. Why is that?
S: Since I was born I’ve been listening to music in English. I’ve thought about singing in Icelandic because I think it’s nice when it’s done well, like Sigur Rós, Múm, and KK. But not everyone does it all the time, because singing in English is just somehow easier.
M: Are you trying to make a go of being a musician?
S: I’m graduating now from the Art Academy as a visual artist, so I’m screwed no matter what I do—not going to make any money. But we have a three-record contract with Morr and I’m going to finish that. I’ve already started on the new album. The artwork in the liner is by me and my girlfriend, who also sings on the album. But yes, we’re going to take it as far as we can go and see what happens.
M: What are you listening to right now, besides the new album?
S: [Sighs] I’m never listening to that again. I’ve been listening to Midlake and I’m always listening to Tom Waits. He’s been my favorite for many years. I like his attitude towards music: just an uncompromising artist. There’s also the new CocoRosie album. Joanna Newsom’s show here was crazy good. From Iceland I like Ólöf Arnalds’ new album and Skúli Sverrisson’s as well. I’m also looking forward to hearing new music from Hjaltalín and Slowblow as well.
M: Some people call this generation of music “krúttkynslód” (Generation Cute) claiming that young Icelandic bands rely on quirky cuteness like toy instruments, peculiar clothes, silly lyrics, etc., to distinguish their music. What’s behind the moniker?
S: I think the writer Gerdur Kristný coined the phrase. It was meant in a bad way to begin with, like they were fed up with elf people and woolen hats. But it was an image made up mostly by the press. I don’t really care what people call it, but sometimes it’s demeaning to the artists and the great music that’s been made over the last six or seven years, like Sigur Rós, Múm, and Mugison. It’s belittling of the work they’ve contributed. Most people use “krúttkynslód” in a negative way, but I’m still amazed at how much good stuff is coming out of this place every year. And there’s no money coming in. Maybe that’s why it’s good!
Source:
http://www.icelandreview.com
More information:http://www.myspace.com/seabear
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