It’s safe to say that we are living in increasingly disconnected times, despite—or in fact, because of—what slyly subversive platforms like Facebook incessantly claim about the importance of cultivating connection with others. Such social media manufactured connection is little more than associations of convenience, far more semblance than substance, serving in fact to distance us from the genuine nurturing of relationships while unleashing our most narcissistic inclinations. Couple this with the intensifying disenchantment we feel amidst our decaying political institutions that descend deeper and deeper into depravity with each passing day, and it’s no wonder why many among us feel so isolated these days.
But not all forms of isolation are necessarily unhealthy, mind you. For artists, in particular, isolation can enable greater focus, ample time and space for experimentation, a stronger symbiosis with their creative muse. It has worked like a charm for Agnes Obel, a self-proclaimed studio recluse who has written, arranged, produced and mixed her four albums to date, including her previously released LPs Philharmonics (2010), Aventine (2013), and Citizen Of Glass (2016).
Agnes Obel’s new album ‘Myopia’ is available in stores now
Her fourth and latest effort, the appropriately titled Myopia which arrives February 21st, finds the Danish-born, Berlin-based singer-songwriter-instrumentalist stretching the cinematic scope of her sound and manipulating her angelic voice in striking ways, while lyrically traversing the inner-workings and turmoil of the human psyche. Accordingly, Myopia—her first album to be commissioned by Blue Note Records in North America and Deutsche Grammophon internationally—is an immersive, cohesive album that demands to be listened to alone and experienced as a complete work of art, from the opening notes of its first track (“Camera’s Rolling”) to the compelling coda of its tenth and final composition (“Won’t You Call Me”).
I’m grateful to have caught up with Ms. Obel recently to discover much more about the making of the album, the inspiration behind its provocative songs, how she’ll translate them on stage during her upcoming tour, and her thoughts on the complexities of myopia in its multiple manifestations.
Congratulations on the upcoming arrival of Myopia! How did the recording process this time around differ from how you’ve approached recording your previous albums?
Thank you. In a way I didn’t really approach it differently this time, but the theme and the place I was working in were so different from previous projects that it felt quite different.
You’ve embraced a very DIY approach to making your music throughout your career, without much assistance from other collaborators. And you’ve been quoted as likening the experience of making Myopia to “building a bubble” around yourself. Can you talk about why you’ve chosen this more solitary approach and why you think it’s worked so well for you? Does being in that bubble, in the studio by yourself, ever feel isolating? Or is it, in fact, liberating for you?
I believe that to develop and finish any bigger project, like writing a book for example, you need to cut yourself off and disappear into what you are doing. In music there has been a tradition of delegating different aspects of the recording (and the writing) process, and it probably has its roots in the technology that has been used, as well as the economic potential in pop music, making it necessary to optimize and streamline the process.
But because today’s technology makes it possible for anyone to work pretty effortlessly on their own, I think these reasons have become less relevant. For me, it means I can work intuitively and without having to communicate and formulate specific visions beforehand. I can basically disappear into the idea and the sound I’m working on.
How did you land on the title for the album? Is it motivated by the cultural and political myopia that we’re increasingly surrounded by? Or is the inspiration more personal?
I think both were on my mind when I started thinking about the album. Personally, I think I have a mind that wants to be myopic, to disappear into one thing. But I also feel that the information technology we all are using is high-jacking this human trait (of over-focusing) by steering our attention towards ever extreme and narrow points of view.
I think myopia can be very useful for creativity on a micro level, as long as you know your answer or narrative isn’t the only one. But as soon as we are on a macro level, we need to let go of this potentially dangerous, isolationist perspective. Many devastating cultural and political movements have grown from a form of extreme group myopia.
After so much time spent in the studio over the past few years, experimenting with and continually adjusting the production, the arrangements and your vocals, how did you know that the album was finally complete? And now that it is finished and ready to be shared with the world, do you listen to it now and identify anything that you would have done differently?
I actually struggled with finishing it. I felt like I could go on and on—in the end stages I began writing new songs on the theme and was even considering making a double album. My husband Alex helped me to realize that these ten songs could be the first chapter and that I could return to it later.
I have a few songs where I wish I had done it differently; not gonna tell you which ones though. I’m planning to correct that in our live set and record them at some point.
You seem to take a lot of pride in your craft, and rightfully so, considering the quality and resonance of the music that you create. But I’m curious how other people’s perceptions of your music make you feel? Are listeners’ or critics’ reactions and feedback important to you, or are they secondary to your own sense of creative fulfillment?
It depends on the day and the person. Sometimes I feel like I really don’t mind criticism at all, and other times I feel like all my power and beliefs in what I do dissipate like water down the drain. I have come to realize that we are all very different, so it’s naive to expect a uniform positive reaction. A film director once told me that it was a good sign if not everyone likes what you do, and in some ways it is a compliment when you get a strong negative reaction to your work.
“Broken Sleep” seemingly explores the psychological connection between sleep (or the lack thereof) and death (or the fear thereof). Is this based on your own relationship with sleep?
Yes, in some ways it is. But I also thought of a friend of mine who struggled with depression and the feeling of meaningless. In those periods all he wanted was to sleep, as if sleep was the only cure. I wondered why we retreat to this state when we struggle in life. And also, why insomnia, paradoxically, always seems to show itself just when we need and long the most for sleep.
I’ve listened to Myopia a handful of times now and the song I revisit in my mind most often—at random moments throughout the day—is “Island of Doom.” It’s stunning. It hits close for me, as from time to time, I’ll find myself contemplating what life would be like for my wife and daughters if, heaven forbid, something happened and I wasn’t here with them anymore. Hypothetically, I’d like to think that even if I wasn’t physically present in their lives, that I’d be with them in a spiritual sense or I would live on within their memories, and that would offer them at least some solace amidst their sense of loss. So…I’d love to learn more about what prompted you to write and record this profoundly powerful song?
When I was a child, I couldn’t wrap my mind around the notion that people could die and they would be gone forever. I remember thinking: ‘but I can see and talk with them in my mind, so they cannot be gone.’ Then as a grown-up, I realized that my child self was on to something.
What I have learned is that everyone we meet will be with us in our minds and dreams, especially the ones who have been close to us and who seem to be sown into the fabric of the mind for good. In many ways, I feel I still have the ones I’ve lost with me. I can even hear their comments and thoughts at times, and I do believe they have influence on my choices and my behavior today.
Myopia contains three instrumental compositions: “Roscian,” “Drosera” and “Parliament of Owls.” All three are very enveloping, cinematic listening experiences. Have you ever considered exploring opportunities to score films?
I have thought about it, but my impression is that the process is not as free as I would like it to be. Film projects are huge financial enterprises and so many ears and eyes are involved simply to make sure it doesn’t go south. Also, I like that my own imagination is the main motivator, whereas being too good at making other people’s ideas can turn out to be something you will struggle with when you have to work on your own again.
Myopia is the first album you’ll release through Blue Note Records, here in North America. How does it feel to have your music supported by one of the most iconic and revered labels of all time?
It feels very good. I still can’t quite believe it, to be honest.
You’ll be on the road quite a bit this year, and I’m curious if translating such an intricately constructed, multi-layered album on stage will be a daunting task? Or perhaps, it’s an exciting challenge for you?
Yes, it certainly has been a challenge to turn this album into a live concert. Right now, I’m sitting in the rehearsal room, while the rest of the band are scrambling with a vocal effect machine that is supposed to emulate the pitched voices that are in the album.
I am really curious to hear and see the album play out in a live context, and hear the words sung with other voices than my own.
OK, last question. In the spirit of Albumism, what are your FIVE favorite albums of all time?
Scott Walker’s Tilt, Nina Simone’s Black Gold, Can’s Ege Bamyasi, Cocteau Twins’ Heaven or Las Vegas, and the Bulgarian State Television Female Choir’s Le Mystere des Voix Bulgares.
SEE Agnes Obel on tour | Dates
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