The Interview below was published in Iceland Review Online.
Don’t let her gentle, crooning voice fool you; Ólöf Arnalds is a firebrand. With her debut album Vid og Vid (“Now and Then”) making ripples among the indie crowd and folk music fans alike, the 27-year-old singer/songwriter has shown what she has to offer: an understated, reflective sound, conjuring up the essence folk music with simple string arrangements supporting melodies sung in Icelandic, but takes her music further by way of unexpected instrumentations and original lyrics. Whether playing guitar, violin, koto harp, or charanga, Arnalds’ true talent is the earnestness that characterizes her voice, both when singing on her album and when speaking her mind.Interviewed by Jonas Moody.
Moody: How do you describe your sound?
Ólöf Arnalds: It’s in the genre of troubadour, singing and playing, but I’m interested in folk music from all over: Asian, African, Irish. Scottish. It would be a long list. I’m sure that bleeds in some way. If I every go back to studying I would study something in that field.
M: The Icelandic music community is small, but prolific. How do you fit in here?
ÓA: I’m in a convenient position. If I want to make something happen I have a lot of friends who can help out. It’s nice how easy it is to get things done here. It’s such a small community and everyone helps each other out. If you need equipment or help recording you can get it immediately. It’s friendship.
M: As a lyricist and instrumentalist, how do all the parts come together to make your music?
ÓA: They hold hands. Maybe I make a few lines of words and they call for a certain melody, and then that melody calls for a certain continuing melody, that calls for a certain continuing lyric. Sometimes I start with chords and then the melody and lyrics come.
M: Is your creative process a labor of love, or were you born with music coming out of your fingers?
ÓA: I never struggle doing it, but I never sit down to do it. I write when it comes. If I try to do it differently, it doesn’t work. But I’m trying to discipline myself to sit down and play a little bit every day. Not necessarily to make anything that’s going to become something. Just to keep the flow going.
M: Some say Icelandic music has struck a certain trajectory. Are you along for the ride or going your own way?
ÓA: In a way I’m jumping into a singer/songwriter tradition, singing in Icelandic and playing guitar, which has been done before…but I am definitely a new voice. It’s new because many songs aren’t based on rock or blues chords, but rather stretching musical language into other directions.
M: But aren’t you audiences different from other troubadours in Iceland?
ÓA: Yeah. My audience is more people who are involved in the indie music scene, but that might be because I have been a part of that scene for a while. Really my audience is a widespread group, people from all different directions. That’s what I hope for. I don’t want it to be for an exclusive part of the society here.
M: There’s an element in your music that harkens back to something older. There seems to be a consciousness in the nation as a whole to look back, not just in music but in literature and what some may call an inchoate counterculture. Do you perceive this in your work at all?
ÓA: I am not consciously trying to do that. These elements are in my music because I am drawn to old things and old times. It’s nostalgia. Why do we like stories from the past? It’s romantic nostalgia. It might be some kind response to how fast Icelandic society has been evolving, just in the time since I’ve been alive. The last 20 years have totally converted the society. I like it, and I dislike it. It’s inevitable that things change, but it’s hard to see older values, and ideas, and ways of communicating, like the language, fade away so fast. It can be painful, but it’s inevitable.
M: The word “krútt” (cute) has become a heading for what some call a movement in Icelandic music among bands like Sigurrós, Múm or Amiina, but many take offense to this term. What are your thoughts?
ÓA: I don’t like it. The word “krútt” makes a group of great artist sound like they are not doing things on as grand a scale as they are. This is hard in English:
[switching to Icelandic, translated]
I feel like it’s slapping this diminutive prefix in front of a generation of musicians and artists that have been doing amazing things and have managed to attract the world’s attention to this little rock we live on in the ocean. That’s what actually gets on my nerves. Maybe it’s not terribly elegant to stand up in defense of the generation you belong to, but I still feel like [the term] is belittling. Even though that may not be the intention, the truth of the matter is that it disempowers what we do—it pulls our teeth out.
M: So what is this phenomenon then?
ÓA: It’s a revival, a renaissance. The idea behind all this is not originally Icelandic. This is just a response, just an Icelandic manifestation of indie culture elsewhere in the world. There’s nothing purely Icelandic about it. But put the brakes on. We need to slow down a bit and take a look at the little things, look back to the past. That’s why it’s fun to dress up and where styles that hearken back to the past. It’s saying something without hitting you over the head with it. Instead, it’s a quiet revolution, which is quite remarkable and interesting for a number of reasons. This is romanticism and renaissance, something seen quite often in art history. This is nothing new. And I don’t know what is so cute about it...
M: What about your music? Is that something originally Icelandic?
ÓA: Sure. I’m singing in Icelandic. I like it. I find it comfortable to sing and write in Icelandic. It’s my native language. Before I started to write lyrics in Icelandic I tried to write lyrics in English, but it didn’t work .It just didn’t feel right.
M: What do you think about Icelandic musicians who work in English?
ÓA: It’s fine if that suits them. I’m not against it. English is the language of pop music and can reach more people. But I feel sure that if you mean what you sing, then it doesn’t matter what language you sing in.
M: Do you think foreigners can enjoy your music?
ÓA: I believe so. The responses I’ve gotten from foreigners who don’t understand or speak Icelandic is that they still get some kind of idea, a feeling. I know that experience; I listen to loads of music in languages I don’t understand at all.
[switching back to English]
M: Much of your music on the album is sung to “you”. Who are you singing to?
ÓA: It’s different family members.
M: One song, “Vittu af mér” (“Know I’m There”), has been stuck in my head. Who are you talking to there?
ÓA: That’s my older sister.
M: You mentioned in concert that two of your songs were dedicated to your father, Einar Arnalds, who is also credited with writing the last song on your album, “Aevagömul orkuthula” (“Ancient Energy Chant”).
ÓA: He wrote the poem. Part of it is that I’m saying goodbye to him on the album. He passed away three years ago.
M: Although this is your debut album, you’ve been quite active. What other pies do you have your fingers in?
ÓA: I’m working on music for a documentary about Ketill Larsen, who used to play Tóti trúdur (Tóti the clown) for the Icelandic National Holiday and Ash Wednesday. I’m also working with a friend of mine who’s translating poems by a 15th century [Persian] poet called Hafiz. I’m going to make some music out of them. I’ve also just finished a piece of music as a part of Steingrímur Eyfjörd’s work for the Icelandic Art Exhibition at the Venice Biennial. But eventually I want to start writing more songs.
M: Tell me about your instruments. You play quite a few.
Because I play violin, viola, and guitar, I know how string instruments work. If I get a new string instrument it’s not too hard to figure it out in a relatively short time.
M: What’s the little guy called?
ÓA: Charanga! It’s a small South American folk guitar. But I also play the koto harp, which is in “Orfeus og Evridís” (“Orpheus and Eurydice”). I got it in Japan when I was touring with Múm.
M: How did you get that back on the plane?
ÓA: With a lot of stubbornness!
Source:
www.icelandreview.com
Engin ummæli:
Skrifa ummæli