I was born with…
interview by Mandi James
Published: The Face Issue 4/1994
While the rest of the Top 40 struggles with the ongoing sagas of love, loss
and empty words, there's been a quiet riot going on in the female singer/songwriter
department. A new generation of strong women hiding behind "kooky"
personae and brandishing strong sentiments has emerged into the mainstream.
There's been Björk giggling mischievonsly about the joys of oral sex,
Tori Amos whooping and soaring around the devastation of rape, and now Stina
Nordenstam, specialising in loss and alienation, may be about to join the
ranks. Hailing from Sweden, usually perceived as the capita1 of frothy European
pop, Stina is the product of the darker side of a country whose winters
are long and whose suicide rate is the highest in the world.
"If I was religions, I would believe this was my second life, because
there is a basic, fundamental sadness within me, which I was born with and
I don't know where it comes from," ventures Stina, sucking distractedly
on the lump of tobacco wedged underneath her top lip. "I can also be
very happy, but those times are usually very short!" Waifer thin with
huge, hurting eyes, Stina is desperately uncomfortable being interviewed,
punctuating the deafening silence with loud sighs and lapses into whispered
dialogue. Classically trained and driven by the ability to shade her music
in various hues of blue, Stina's creative confidence belies her delicate
demeanour. Pouring out her emotional baggage over the backdrop of minimal
jazz compositions, some bruising phat beats and exotic percussion, Stina's
debut album "Memories Of A Color" was hailed by the few who heard
it as a minor masterpiece. Her breathless and broken vocal style will either
irritate the hell out of you or have you sobbing fitfully into your pillow.
"I find it quite, er, a painful process making music," she stumbles.
"My lyrics are very personal, not of a direct encounter, but a snapshot
of a memory I can't remember experiencing. I'm a loner, I have difficulty
working or communicating ideas with other people." Nonetheless, on
her latest LP "And She Closed Her Eyes" (out this month on East
West), Stina has come out of her self-imposed exile long enough to communicate
basic chords and unembroidered structures with a range of musicians such
as trumpet virtuoso Jon Hassel. This isn't easy listening: it's difficult
to get your head round, rather like eav
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