By Izzy Cihak
Photo Courtesy Daffodil Publicity
Martin Atkins has said that a band’s performance under the worst conditions should carry far more weight than that under the best conditions. I would like to think that the same rings true for music journalism. Conducting an interview in the cushy backstage of a 1,200-capacity venue while nonchalantly stealing hors d’oeuvres from someone currently lounging in Billboard’s Top 20 is not the hardest job in the world. It is, however, slightly harder to interview someone via cell-phone, as they sit in the back of a van, traveling through the peaks and valleys of the American south, while their reception randomly flickers on and off like hallway lights in a David Lynch film.
I interviewed Olof Arnalds, who still falls well into the realm of “indie” stateside, during one of her travel days. I called her manager, Stuart (who was sitting in the front seat of the van), on his cell phone, which he proceeded to hand off (literally) to Olof, in the backseat. This certainly doesn’t reek of the classical ideal of the “glory” of the music industry, but the passion to persevere in spite of less-than-ideal conditions is certainly glorious… to put it mildly. And the cool confidence of Arnalds, taking everything in stride, and even enjoying the beauty of that existence is impressive: “It’s going great. We’re just leaving Charlottesville. It’s a lovely town. I love how relaxed it is.”
Arnalds, a native of Iceland, is best-known in the states for her work in experimental, electronic folk outfit mum. She is currently promoting her second solo LP, Innundir skinni. The album, produced by Sigur Ros’ Kjartan Sveinsson, boasts appearances from many of the biggest names on the Icelandic music scene, including Skuli Sverrison, Shahzad Ismaily, and, of course, Bjork. Although every track of the album sounds like somewhat of a departure from the last, Arnalds assures me that she is still the one doing all of the directing and making all of the final decisions: “I bring in a completed composition and we play with it and arrange it.” She does, however, admit to preferring to be a more casual boss: “I like to give people a pretty free card.” She tells me that there aren’t that many people who she does allow to work with her on such an intimate level and implies that those who do must be thoroughly screened by herself: “For me it’s trust on a very high level. When I let people into my creative space I have to know we are on the same level.”
When questioned about future collaborations that are being wished upon and fleshed out in Ms. Arnalds’ mind, she coolly and coyly replies “That’s an interesting question. I’m not going to release that at this date. I have a few in mind.”
Arnalds was supposed to open her current tour in the brilliantly intimate (albeit not especially comfortable) chapel of the First Unitarian Church. Unfortunately, the show fell through, but she did enjoy the remainder of her US stops. She also expressed an enjoyment in touring North America: “I like touring in the states because of the open sky. I like the freedom.”
As far as her brand of live performances, Arnalds seems to have a stripped down and solitary approach: “I often play on my own. I arrange my songs so I can do them on my own.” Even when playing with a partner or a backing band, she enjoys an admirably improvisational style: “We never play the same show and never have a setlist… we don’t really rehearse either. We just have fun with it.”
Considering that the vast majority of Arnalds’ songs are in Icelandic, I was curious to find out just what she has been singing about: “I think I just write about my life and the people that are in it, relationships and friendships. I find inspiration in good conversations.”
Unlike myself (who still romanticizes things such as the French New Wave and Riot Grrrl), Arnalds tells me “I’m not very much drawn to movements,” going on to explain that she feels once something becomes rooted in a specific genre or movement it suffers from the restrictions imposed by the confines of that grouping. While her sound is regularly classified as folk, she is hesitant to admit to any specific influences or any specific goal in mind: “I made most of my music in my mind. I don’t have a pre-decided sound when I go into studios.” She goes on to tell me “I don’t want to be considered part of any genre… except of singers.”
