Mostrando entradas con la etiqueta Benny Andersson 2022. Mostrar todas las entradas
Mostrando entradas con la etiqueta Benny Andersson 2022. Mostrar todas las entradas

jueves, 22 de diciembre de 2022

Benny Andersson - ABBA Leader Namechecks Major Inspirations

 ABBA Leader Namechecks Major Inspirations

Mattoon, IL, USA / MyRadioLink.com

Dec 21, 2022 | 6:00 PM

ABBA Leader Namechecks Major Inspirations

ABBA's Benny Andersson has always credited the group's inspirations for playing a major role in their success. ABBA's reunion album, 2021's Voyage, has snagged the band three 2022 Grammy nominations — including Record Of The Year and Best Pop Duo/Group Performance for “Don’t Shut Me Down” and Album Of The Year for Voyage.


Andersson, who wrote the band's material with bandmate and collaborator Björn Ulvaeus (pronounced: B'yorn Yool-VAY-uss), spoke to Record Collector about the music that connected with the ABBA creators: “We were inspired by the Bee Gees, because suddenly they became another band. They were good, they did 'Massachusetts' and all those songs in the '60s, then all of a sudden, they were back with a totally different approach. . . It’s nice when what we do is inspiring other people. Like Brian Wilson inspired us, or Paul McCartney. . . (Pete Townshend) I like his music, too.”


When pressed about director Peter Jackson's The Beatles: Get Back documentary, Andersson said, “Oh, yes, the best documentary ever made. It’s fantastic. Like a fly on the wall, y'know? Wonderful. I’ve seen it twice. . . . I recognized a part of myself in Paul: he never gave up, constantly wanting to move things forward. Sometimes, nothing happens, but he keeps on feeding the band with stuff. I like that. I’m not saying I’m the same, but I recognized the method.”


Benny Andersson spoke about how despite their massive worldwide success, ABBA's members have managed to live full and happy lives under the radar: “Nobody knows anything about us! They know what we’ve been doing, they know the records, they know the pictures, they know what we say in interviews, but they don’t know anything about how (our personal) life is, which is quite conscious. They don’t know I walk the dog in the morning and late at night,

I go shopping for food, I cook every day, stuff like that. I live a normal life: I have always done. I think that goes for nearly all of us.”


Benny Andersson admits that 40 years after calling it quits, he's still amazed at the hold ABBA has over its international fan-base: “I think the major thing is that if you're a band and you have a record out and it becomes a hit and you have a next one — and you do that for nine consecutive years and you have one-or-two major hits around the world — it's pretty unavoidable to stir up some dust, isn't it? I think that's one of the reasons — and why it is I don't know. I don't know why. (Laughs) But I'm very grateful that this is the case, y'know?”





miércoles, 21 de diciembre de 2022

Keep an eye on Dan

 https://sverigesradio.se/artikel/abba-benny-om-laten-som-liknar-30-ar-gammal-varmlandstoppplat-jag-tycker-det-later-valdigt-likt

A finales de los años 80, Henrik Byström estaba en Värmlandstoppen con la canción "Spacevisitantes". En él hay un bucle melódico con similitudes de la canción "Keep an eye on Dan", del último álbum de ABBA.

"Si hubiera escuchado la canción antes, entonces 'Keep a eye on Dan' no hubiera sonado así. Prefieres no hacer algo que alguien más ya haya hecho", dice Benny Andersson sobre la canción 'Space Visitors'.

Henric Byström se sorprendió cuando menos cuando se dio cuenta de las similitudes entre las canciones y dice que esto es algo para recordar por el resto de su vida.
I slutet av 80-talet var Henrik Byström med på Värmlandstoppen med låten "Space visitors". I den finns en melodislinga med likheter från låten "Keep an eye on Dan", från ABBAS:s senaste album.

"Hade jag hört låten innan, då hade inte "Keep an eye on Dan" låtit sådär, man vill ju helst inte göra något som någon annan redan gjort", säger Benny Andersson om låten "Space Visitors".

Henric Byström blev minst sagt förvånad när han insåg likheterna mellan låtarna och säger att detta är något att minnas för resten av livet.






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Idag var jag med om en surrealistisk grej. ABBA-Benny sa i radio att min 35 år gamla låt var väldigt lik en av låtarna på senaste ABBA-albumet. 😅

När jag var 15 år skrev jag en del musik och spelade in låtarna på min nya synth Roland D-20. En av dem skickades in till Värmlandstoppen i P4 Värmland och den spelades även i ett P3-program för unga låtskrivare som Ulf Elfving hade.

Förra året kom ABBAs nya album och en av låtarna var Keep An Eye On Dan. Den hade stora likheter med min "Space Visitors". Samma leadsynth, samma tempo och tonart och en del av melodin är identisk. En kul slump givetvis, för jag har aldrig inbillat mig att Benny Andersson skulle ha hört min gamla låt; än mindre kopierat den. Men faktum kvarstår att likheterna är många.

Idag spelades båda låtarna i P4 Värmland. Benny Andersson medverkade och sa att Keep An Eye On Dan inte hade låtit som den gör om han hade känt till min låt. Hur sjukt är inte det? För mig, som har älskat ABBA sedan Super Trouper gick på repeat när jag var 7 år gammal, var det otroligt hedrande att han tog sig tid att lyssna och kommentera. Hade någon sagt det till 15-åriga Henric så hade den inte blivit trodd. Men nu fick man ett minne för livet och lite sug efter att skriva musik igen. 😊

Länk till inslaget i bion



Hoy he experimentado algo surrealista. ABBA Benny dijo en la radio que mi canción de 35 años era muy similar a una de las canciones del último álbum de ABBA. 😅 Cuando tenía  15 años, escribí algo de música y grabé las canciones en mi nuevo sintetizador Roland D-20. Uno de     ellos fue enviado a Värmlanstoppen en P4 Värmland y también fue tocado en un programa de P3 para jóvenes compositores que Ulf Elfving tenía. El año pasado, salió el nuevo álbum de ABBA y una de las canciones fue Keep An Eye On Dan. Tenía muchas similitudes con mis "Space Visitors". Mismo sintetizador de plomo, mismo tempo y tono y algunas de la melodía son idénticas. Una divertida coincidencia, por supuesto, porque   nunca imaginé que Benny Andersson hubiera escuchado mi vieja canción; y mucho menos copiarla.  Pero el hecho es que las similitudes son muchas. Hoy ambas canciones fueron tocadas en P4 Värmland.   Benny Andersson participó y dijo que Keep An Eye On Dan no habría sonado como si hubiera   conocido mi canción. ¿Qué tan enfermo no es? Para mí, que ha amado a ABBA desde que Super Trouper se    repitió cuando yo tenía 7 años, fue increíblemente honrado que se tomara el tiempo para escuchar y      comentar. Si alguien le hubiera dicho eso a Henric, de 15 años, no lo habría creído. Pero ahora tienes un recuerdo de por vida y un pequeño antojo de escribir música de nuevo.  #abba #bennyandersson @p4varmland



viernes, 2 de diciembre de 2022

Face to face with Bjorn and Benny — by an Abba superfan

 INTERVIEW

Face to face with Bjorn and Benny — by an Abba superfan


What is it like going to watch Abba Voyage in the company of the legendary Bjorn Ulvaeus? Or having a songwriting masterclass with Benny Andersson in his Stockholm studio?

Bjorn Ulvaeus, right, 77, and Benny Andersson, 75, in Stockholm


JUDE EDGINTON FOR THE TIMES MAGAZINE

Pete Paphides

Friday December 02 2022, 2.30pm, The Times

‘You don’t believe me? Here. Let me show you.” The voice over the loudspeaker at Abba Voyage, here in the purpose-built Abba Arena in east London, has just told us to take our seats as the performance is about to begin. And here next to me is Bjorn Ulvaeus smirking inscrutably. Stepping outside the Departure Lounge bar, into a swarm of Abba fans, the co-creator of Dancing Queen, Mamma Mia, SOS and every hit that will trigger a collective landslide of emotions merges with the melee. And here’s the thing. No one – not the mojito-wielding Agnetha and Frida lookalikes wearing replicas of the pair’s orange and blue satin cat dresses; not even a quartet of stack-heeled Bjorns – will recognise Actual...












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THANKS JJ Andy











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HERE THEY GO AGAIN! (HOW CAN WE RESIST THEM?)
Hanging out with Abba's Bjorn and Benny
Interview by Pete Paphides

FACE TO FACE WITH BJORN AND BENNY
- by an Abba superfan
What is it like going to watch Abba Voyage in the company of the legendary Bjorn Ulvaeus? Or having a songwriting masterclass with Benny Andersson in his Stockholm studio? Pete Paphides finds out


'Y The voice over the loudspeaker at Abba Voyage, here in the purpose-built Abba Arena in east London, has just told us to take our seats as the performance is about to begin. And here next to me is Bjorn Ulvaeus smirking inscrutably. Stepping outside the Departure Lounge bar, into a swarm of Abba fans, the co-creator of Dancing Queen, Mamma Mia, SOS and every hit that will trigger a collective landslide of emotions merges with the melee. And here's the thing. No one - not the mojito-wielding Agnetha and Frida lookalikes wearing replicas of the pair's orange and blue satin cat dresses; not even a quartet of stack-heeled Bjorns - will recognise Actual Bjorn, soberly dressed in polo neck and blue Hugo Boss suit just to the left of them. As we peel away from whatever the collective noun is for four Bjorns and take our places for this year's most fêted pop resurrection, he leans over and says, "What did I tell you?"
Whatever 2022 had in store, I had no earthly reason to imagine that (a) going to an Abba concert with, um, one of Abba would be on the menu; and (b) I'd end up losing a bet with him (it was £10, but he graciously declines payment). "Being old is a weird sort of superpower," Bjorn, 77, explains. "You're just another old person. No one really looks at old people. Even here, no one sees me. I mean, they see me but not really."
In 90 minutes, they'll finally see him. But it'll take a spotlight directed at the box from which Bjorn has been watching the show along with an announcement telling us that one of Abba is actually here - for that to happen. What happens before then is, well, it's a lot to take in. Alongside a live band, all of whom had yet to be born in 1982 * when Abba called it a day - a seemingly three-dimensional Agnetha, Bjorn, Benny and Anni-Frid swoosh around in a cascade of sequins and satin, gazing tenderly at each other as they navigate the rawest sections of break-up post mortems The Winner Takes It All and When All Is Said 2 and Done. And all the time, Bjorn stands beside his more animated partner, Christina Sas, and stares at the spectacle with a quizzical, Spock-like countenance. It's like he's not the real one. 

How are you feeling right now, I ask Bjorn, after a particularly harrowing Chiquitita. You seem unmoved, I say.
"Well, what do you expect me to do?" He punches the air and mock-bellows, "Chiquitita, you and I cry? Come on!" That's reasonable. Besides, he has his alter ego to do that. And wasn't that surely the point of all this?
Four weeks later I'm in Stockholm, where even in their hitmaking heyday - Abba were always able to walk down the street without attracting attention. And to understand why, we need to familiarise ourselves with the concept of jantelagen (law of Jante), which revolves around the idea that no one-no matter how famous or popular - is better than anyone else. In Sweden, jantelagen acts as an ingrained repellent to celebrity culture. This presents something of a contradiction when you're Abba and your roll of honour stretches to nine British No I singles, more than 300 million worldwide record sales, a globally successful theatrical franchise (Mamma Mia!)
and two Hollywood spin-offs. At Abba the Museum, a short boat trip from the group's waterside HQ and Benny Andersson's neighbouring RMV studio, this tension between the requirements of superstardom and the law of Jante is detectable in some of the exhibits.
In fact, at times, it's almost as if Abba are trolling it. Behold a painstakingly detailed recreation of their late manager Stig Anderson's office. Is there anything exceptional about Stig Anderson's office? Not really - and you rather sense that might be the joke. It looks like it could be anyone's office in the Seventies. Some years after the museum opened, Benny's 40-year-old son and Voyage producer, Ludvig, noticed that clearly visible in the open pages of Stig's notebook was his dad's home phone number, "which, even today, is still his number. It hadn't occurred to anyone to check."
As I approach the studio after a morning at the museum, Benny is alighting from his car, a tiny electric Daddy Pig car. He points to the huge window through which you can see the white Minimoog keyboard on which he first played the baroque arpeggiations that take you into the chorus of SOS, a song that so moved the Who's Pete Townshend that he once interrupted Bjorn in a London restaurant to sing his praises.
Already inside is Bjorn, who greets Benny, 75, with a nod as he comes in. Lunch has been ordered - burger for Benny; salad for Bjorn. There's a stylist on hand for the photos, with suits for both of them. Bjorn mulls over his choices, while Benny elects to wear the clothes he already has on. They don't strike you as especially alike, these two - a difference that runs along extrovert/introvert lines. Later today, Bjorn will head to a reception at the British ambassador's residence in Stockholm, where he will introduce Abba Voyage to key
travel and corporate travel personnel, journalists and influencers from Sweden. By contrast, Benny's plans for the evening involve going home to make spaghetti carbonara for his wife of 40 years, TV presente Mona Norklit, and their grandchildren. His views, if pushed, are left-leaning and feminist
- feminist, he says, inasmuch as, "If you notic a discrepancy of equality between the sexes and you try to do something about it, then that's a feminist." Ahead of the 2009 Swedish election, he campaigned for and donated $125,000 to the Feminist Initiative party. Today, he makes a point of expressing his disappointment with the current season of The Crown, which he feels is "a bit misogynist All of a sudden it's all about Philip and Charles and the princes. It doesn't feel right to me
It's a relief, Benny says, that Bjorn seems to relish being the custodian of Abba's legacy with all the schmoozing that goes with that, because it frees Benny to do the only thing be really wants to do every day - and that's to s at his piano and try to come up with a tune that excites him. And yet, he will proudly 
14 The Times Magazine

point out that the pair have never fallen out in the 56 years they've known each other. "He's more like a brother. He can do what he likes and it's up to him, you know? If I say a silly thing somewhere, he doesn't care, and if he does the same, I don't care either. We're totally independent of each other in that way, and having the history we have is a bond that doesn't break."
It's a history whose beginnings are steeped in a peculiarly Nordic kind of bathos. Before Abba were Abba, they were a supergroup of sorts. Bjorn had played campfire folk with the Hootenanny Singers; with the Hep Stars, Benny had been a bona fide pop pin-up. Agnetha Fältskog was already a star in Sweden when she married Bjorn in 1971; a year previously, Norwegian-born jazz vocalist Anni-Frid Lyngstad started dating Benny. But in the new decade, they were eking out a living performing comedy revues in
Swedish restaurants. "I remember one sketch in which Benny and I dressed as schoolboys with propellers on our caps."
When we look back at footage of their 1974 Eurovision performance with Waterloo, it's framed by the knowledge of their subsequent victory and everything that followed. In fact, it's perhaps closer to the truth to say it was an act of desperation, and one they strategised rather like a master criminal might plan a jailbreak or a heist - well aware that this might be their only chance to broadcast their existence to the world beyond Sweden.
Other artists innovated, but Abba were expert assimilators, looking to see what was big that year and then improving on it. Together with the engineer Michael Tretow, the objective Abba set themselves with Waterloo was to muscle in on the territory of glam-rock brickies Slade and the Sweet: "We wanted to pack Waterloo with the same energy as
something like Ballroom Blitz. It's all energy. energy, energy." By way of illustration, he roars the guitar part like a revving motorbike. As for Eurovision itself, Bjorn's recollections
are bittersweet. He remembers getting the bus from the hotel to the venue in Brighton and having to stand because his trousers were so tight. "When I watched back the footage, I realised I was now a pop star and I would have to lose weight." With visible pride, he adds, "And I managed to do so without using those pills that some of the other musicians were taking."
By so carefully masterminding their ascent, Abba inevitably incurred the wrath of jantelagen. Swedish broadcasters and newspapers snapped into line with the left-wing progg movement, which defined itself against capitalism and commercialism. The progg wars climaxed on the first anniversary of Abba's Eurotriumph. While one television channel aired the 1975 event live in Stockholm, the other main channel hosted an "alternative festival". One song, performed by members of the Swedish National Theatre went: "Here come Abba in clothes made of plastic as dead as tinned herring, they also don't care about anything except to make quick cash."
Abba's riposte, it has to be said, was pretty cool. For their next, self-titled album, they posed for the sleeve in the back of a Rolls- Royce, sipping champagne as onlookers peered through the windows. For all that, the perception of Abba as pop theoreticians working to a formula is a lingering bone of contention. "If that's the case, then what's the formula that connects SOS, Mamma Mia, Fernando and Dancing Queen? There isn't one. We didn't see ourselves as a 'factory'. But sure, we loved pop- and we took it seriously. Perhaps that's what offended some people' I tell Bjorn that when I was seven, the
reason for my fascination with them outside of their imperious run of hits was down to two co-existing dynamics within the group. You had the melancholy, maternal gaze of Agnetha contrasted against Frida, platonic ideal of the childminder who always lets you stay up past your bedtime. But for this fan, Benny and Bjorn carried a certain mystique. They ruled pop in the same way as fellow Swede Bjorn Borg ruled tennis - with icy insouciance. Interviewed on Noel Edmonds' Swap Shop, they seemed less like pop stars and more like visiting salesmen from a plastic mouldings company seeking to secure an order for 6,000 office chairs. And yet how were these sober, sensible, placid men responsible for creating Dancing Queen, a song that scales such vertiginous heights of euphoria to ache so exquisitely? "I just remember working really hard on it," says Benny. "But actually, that's only half the answer. Really, so much of the magic of
The Times Magazine 15




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what you hear is in the girls' harmonies. A soprano singing with a mezzo-soprano. If you were looking for technically perfect harmonies, you wouldn't go for that combination." If it were perfect, I suggest, it would sound
less than human. But Dancing Queen sounds like two halves of a heart trying not to break. Benny makes a noise that I take to mean agreement, but as he's removing a tobacco pouch from his mouth at the same time, I can't be entirely sure.
Bjorn's recollections of Dancing Queen are more detailed. The same day, they had also finished work on Fernando. Bjorn drove to his sister's house, where they played it over and over again. Even now remembering that evening, he seems lost in the rapture of that moment. "Both songs, absolutely... Oh, you wouldn't believe it. They sounded so good."
"I used to see pictures when I heard Benny's melodies," adds Bjorn. "I still do, in fact. When I first heard the music for Knowing Me, Knowing You, I just saw a house being emptied. Boxes piled against the walls. The furniture being removed. Someone walking around those rooms, remembering the past."
Over the years, people's determination to believe that the song was about his divorce from Agnetha suggests that it feels too true not to be about something that really happened. And yet, says Bjorn, "That year, we had our second child. We were happy together, and I'd never gone through anything like a divorce. But I had read novels; I'd watched movies."
I mention the famous story about Laurence Olivier and Dustin Hoffman in Marathon Man. Observing Hoffman in method mode, Olivier suggested, "My dear boy, why don't you try acting?" Bjorn erupts with laughter. "Exactly! That's spot on! 'Why don't you try fiction, my friend?"
During their imperial years, Benny and Bjorn's obsessive pursuit of the next hit seemed to supersede all other considerations, perhaps even their marriages. "We were set to 'receive' the whole time," recalls Bjorn, and he's not exaggerating. Thank You for the Music came to Benny in the middle of a dinner party at Stig Anderson's house. "There was a little piano under the stairs," remembers Benny, "and it all came out. Possibly the quickest one I've ever written." A keen runner, Bjorn got the intro to Take a Chance on Me from the "t-k-ch" sound his feet made as they pounded the pavements of Stockholm.
Nightclubs suddenly became laboratories for future releases. As they made deeper incursions into disco with Voulez Vous and Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! (A Man after Midnight), they took test pressings of key songs to Alexandra discotheque in Stockholm and monitored the reaction on the dancefloor to see if their È attempts to beat the Bee Gees and Donna Summer at their own game had worked. In
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'THE GHOSTS ARE NOT JUST WHAT YOU SEE ON STAGE. THEY'RE ALL THE STORIES AND MEMORIES'
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2005, the power of Gimme! Gimme Gimme! would once again be utilised when it formed the basis of Madonna's Hung Up. Benny remembers Madonna's assistant personally bringing her song on a USB stick, seeking permission to sample the Abba track: "We played it and said, 'Yeah, bloody great! Half of the copyright and you're good.' Then they came back with a counteroffer. They said, 'Who's going to pay Stuart [Price, co-writer and producer]? I said, 'That's up to you now.""
Meanwhile, anyone with a radio and a basic grasp of English couldn't fail to notice the themes that were starting to consume Bjorn. A tendency that started with Mamma Mia and SOS - songs narrated by women being sent into a tailspin by the vicissitudes of men - was now finding its fullest expression in a string of later Abba gems, such as Angel Eyes, Lay All Your Love on Me and One of Us. I suggest to Bjorn that when it's your wife singing these songs, the line between empathy
and sadism feels like a fine one. Especially when, in the case of The Winner Takes It All, your real-life marriage is now falling apart.
A smiling Bjorn rolls the question around his mouth like a vintage barolo. "Lots of empathy, I think. Men are, you know, the eternal torment for women in many cases. When I write stuff like that, I am a woman. I don't think of myself as a man in those situations. Er, which is strange." He pauses, just to check that's really how it is. "Yes, I am a woman when I write it. It sounds strange, but that's how it works."
Forty-two years on, he still emits a shiver when he recalls the day he presented the others with the words to The Winner Takes It All. Raw from his separation from Agnetha, he didn't need to lean on his imagination quite so much this time. Famously, he emboldened himself to write it with the aid of red wine. "I came in the next morning with sheets of paper where I'd neatly handwritten the lyric. Then we went into the control room. Agnetha started to half-sing the words over the backing track and, oh, it was such a moment! All of us were so moved. We were standing around and just went through it the first time, and I'll never forget that. There were moist eyes all round. Because we felt, oh wow, this is something out of the ordinary"
for seven years, they were untouchable. By the end of 1932, it was over. They never announced it but, although I was only 13, watching Benny Bjorn. Agnetha and with her now iconic post divorce punk hairdo - Frida, reluctantly bunching up on Noel Edmonds sofa for one final promotional interview on The Late Late Breakfast Show, even I figured it out. Speaking "hypothetically" about the moment it would be time to disband, Bjorn pondered, "When we were recording an album we would feel it's not fun any more." Benny shot back, "We should have done that a long time ago." And although subsequently hailed as a masterpiece of Scandi pop noir, the sombre six-minute single they were there to promote, The Day Before You Came, effectively acted as their suicide note. "Maybe, with hindsight, we took that too far," reflects Bjorn now.
In separate conversations with Bjorn and Benny, I've noticed a note of... well, if not irritation, then let's call it sadness creep in when they talk about their late manager Stig Anderson. Benny feels that the image Stig attempted to perpetuate for himself - as the canny dealmaker behind Abba's rise - had a negative impact on the group. Bjorn mentions the fire sale-like speed with which Stig licensed out the group's catalogue in the wake of their split. For a while it seemed that all Abba were good for was petrol-station shelf space alongside all the other badly designed budget- priced CD compilations of forgotten Seventies bands; a punchline to a never-ending gag about the decade that style apparently forgot.
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Only when Benny and Bjorn took control of their legacy in 1992 and sanctioned the release of Abba Gold did the rumblings of a resurrection start to occur. Perhaps because it would go on to become the second biggest-selling album of all time in the UK (only Queen's Greatest Hits surpasses it), it's tempting to think that Abba Gold was always going to be a runaway success. In fact, it was market-researched into existence. Asked if they'd consider buying it, focus group participants said they might, but only if there were no photos of Abba on the sleeve - hence its plain black artwork featuring little more than the Abba logo. Not quite the equivalent of a brown paper bag, but not far off either.
If they were sensitive to derision, you could hardly blame them. In the same year, Kurt Cobain of the all-conquering Nirvana proclaimed himself a fan, inviting Australian tribute act Bjorn Again to open for his band. The real Bjorn tentatively voiced his approval, but took mild umbrage at their insistence on addressing their audiences with comical Swedish accents. Other developments in 1992, however, gave them greater reason to believe that their story was far from over. Erasure topped the British charts with an EP of Abba covers; and soon afterwards, in Australia, where Abba had experienced adulation on a par with Beatlemania, two films that featured the group's music, Muriel's Wedding and The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert, would go on to become cult classics. Perhaps best of all, when U2 brought their Zooropa tour to Sweden, the first people they contacted were Benny and Bjorn. "We were invited backstage and Bono said they were playing Dancing Queen - did we want to join them? Sure, I said, and they produced a keyboard that was the size of a melodica - it only had about 12 keys. Impossible to play, but I did anyway. And Bjorn played acoustic guitar. That was, what? Thirty years ago? Jesus Christ."
"That was when the offers to reform started," recalls Bjorn. "But I just felt in my gut -I think we all did - that this wasn't the way to go." I point out that, without this reticence, the phenomenon of the jukebox musical might not exist. After all, wasn't Mamma Mia! created as a means of keeping these songs in spaces where people can celebrate them? "Well, by that time, we'd been working in musical theatre doing Chess and working on (their Swedish musical saga] Kristina fran Duvemal for ten years. So when [Mamma Mia! playwright] Catherine Johnson presented us with the story, it was..."
Here we go again?
"Very good," he grimaces.
As Bjorn submits himself to the stylist ahead of the photos, Benny suggests we head over to 2 the music room where he spends most of his 
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OH GOD. I'M ABBA-SPLAINING ABBA TO ONE OF ABBA. THIS IS WHY YOU SHOULD NEVER MEET YOUR HEROES
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days. On his piano, a framed photo of Agnetha and Frida means that whenever he plays, they are constantly in his field of vision. With his band Benny Andersson's Orkester, he's the only member of Abba who still records and performs with any regularity. Is he ever tempted to turn up to one of the Voyage shows and relieve the keyboard player of their duties for one evening? "Yeah, I could, but it would be confusing, wouldn't it? Two
Bennys on two keyboards, heh heh." Or perhaps one of the various performances of Mamma Mia! taking place at theatres around the world? In the orchestra pit where no one can see him? "Oh yeah, so what would be the point? I have my band, and the only reason I have a band... It's always nice to come here, but it's a bit lonely. So I decided that playing together with other musicians is such a joyful thing and if I have the opportunities to do it, then... Because otherwise, it's just sitting here trying to find the next tune. Sometimes it can take days."
Benny picks up on something I said earlier today, when I asked him about the songwriting process with Bjorn - whether he leaves space for Bjorn to create a melody line for the lyric. "I know that some writers build a song from the bottom up, but I've never done that. I build down from the melody. If you don't have a melody, you don't have anything."
By way of illustration, he plays the first few notes of Mozart's Piano Concerto No 21 in C major. "How would you get to that from a backing track?" A mini songwriting masterclass ensues. He sits at the piano and plays a sparse but intensely pretty ballad that he plans to submit to Bjorn, who still supplies lyrics for a couple of songs on each Orkester album.
"That's how they all start," he explains, before firing up a computer screen on which are displayed all the individual parts that make up Don't Shut Me Down, one of the first
new songs they wrote for the Voyage project - a lyric that Bjorn will later tell me he wrote about an Abbatar knocking at the door of the fans and asking them to accept her as she is now, in this shape and form. On Benny's screen are 48 individual tracks, perhaps more, each one helping to bear the melodic weight of a song that seems to contain more hooks than an angler's satchel. Momentarily, he isolates the string parts and the emphasis
of the song is transformed into overlapping sighs of pure longing. Then he moves across to the piano and plays the melody from which everything else sprang. Perhaps sensing that I can't find the words to describe what I'm feeling, he helpfully points out, "It keeps shifting key in a way that you don't notice. So
your emotions are constantly fluctuating." But then, I suggest, isn't that often the way with Abba songs? Simple on the surface and yet you never quite know where you are? Does Take a Chance on Me even have a chorus? "Sure it does," says Benny, singing the "If you change your mind..." bit.
That's surely the verse? "No, that's the chorus. The verse is the, 'We could go dancing...' bit."
But that feels like more of a middle eight, no? "Hmm... maybe. But then, what about the actual middle eight?"
Oh God. I'm Abba-splaining Abba to one of Abba. This is why you should never meet your heroes.
The next morning, with three hours remaining before my flight home, I receive a call from Abba's manager, Gorel Hanser. And the reason? Cracker bread. I had mentioned to Benny that when I last came here in 2002, I noticed some giant discs of cracker bread on the kitchen table. It turns out that back in 2013, the local cracker-bread bakery, Skedvi Brod, faced the threat of being bought out by a larger conglomerate. Benny - unable to bear his cherished cracker bread disappearing
made a reported six-figure donation that allowed them to continue independently. "They had even smashed up the old ovens," he exclaims, aghast even now. If Bjorn sees being old as his superpower, it seems that Benny's superpower is the ability to save his favourite artisan baked goods from extinction.
When I arrive back at the studio, Bjorn is picking up Benny's latest batch of melodies and to everyone's shock - news of this year's American Grammy nominations has landed, with Abba named in four categories. Incredibly, these are the group's first Grammy nominations - they didn't even figure in this year's Swedish Grammys. Asked if they plan to go to the ceremony, both agree that they "might" if they find out they're "definitely gonna get one".
It's been a year now since the release of Voyage an album the existence of which
The Times Magazine 19
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had remained a secret until the September evening Benny and Bjorn flew to London to unveil the exact form that Abba's return had taken. There had been talk of two new songs and some sort of virtual show. But when it came, the announcement wildly surpassed those expectations. Not only had they somehow recorded an entire new album, but they'd built a dedicated venue next to the Olympic Park in east London where the show would happen. The Abba Arena was hardly hidden - its hexagonal steel and timber structure had clearly been visible to anyone who boarded the DLR train from Stratford for their daily commute.
How do you keep a secret like that? You do it in a place where no one pays any attention to you. Early in 2021, ILM - the visual effects company founded by George Lucas-built an entire studio in Stockholm where every day for four weeks, the four members of Abba would dress in special motion-capture suits and perform the songs that would comprise the setlist at the Voyage shows. Gazing on were approximately 150 visual effects experts for whom Agnetha, Benny, Bjorn and Frida would have to move, sing and, most importantly, emote their best-loved hits several times over, one in the morning and one in the afternoon.
"We agonised over the tiniest of details," recalls show producer Svana Gisla, who had previously worked alongside Chernobyl director Johan Renck and David Bowie in the singer's final months on the videos for his Blackstar album. "Which version of Abba are you going to see when you turn up? In the end we went for 1979 Abba, but a version of 1979 that works in 2022. Bjorn's hair isn't exactly like it was before. We called it the Kings of Leon hair. But then Benny said, Oh, that's ridiculous. Why does he have to have, like, a cool hairdo? Why can't we just look like we did?""
To keep up the energy levels of a group whose collective age was 296, the producers arranged special Waterloo or Fernando days where staff - "Everyone from the animators to the dinner ladies" - would attend in song- appropriate fancy dress. A huge amount of activity. And still, somehow, no one noticed. That remained the case even when a trickle
of new songs turned into an album. On any given day anyone could have peered inside the large windows of Benny's studio and seen Benny and Bjorn running Agnetha and Frida through their vocals and witnessed the beginnings of the reunion Abba insisted could never happen. But no one did. The law of Jante forbids that sort of behaviour. The first two songs written by the pair  when they first committed to the shows  were I Still Have Faith In You and Don't Shut  Me Down. When Benny handed Bjorn the
music for I Still Have Faith In You, Bjorn knew exactly what the song would be about. "Of course, it's about the four of us," he explains, "but it's about other things as well. It's about unions in general... As a matter of fact, I thought about Brexit and about Europe. Crass as it may be, it's a beautiful thought, the European Union."
As an avowed anglophile who spent his immediate post-Abba years in Henley-on- Thames, Bjorn has been watching recent political developments over here with some concern. Does it look a bit like we've spent the past few years having a collective nervous breakdown?
"Well, we read about prime ministers coming and going," says Bjorn, "but how Brexit feels for the British is very hard for us to judge from here." Benny is rather more frank. "I think
it looks like you're in trouble, that's what

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THE TOTAL COST OF THE SHOW WAS £140 MILLION. 'PEOPLE SAID IT'D BE OK. BUT NO ONE EVER KNOWS'
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I think it looks like." Demonstrating that his knowledge of the Napoleonic wars doesn't just stop at Waterloo, Benny adds, "But you've dealt with that before. You won at Trafalgar; you'll be fine!"
By all accounts, recording the album was a breeze. "The girls started to sing and it was like we were [last here] three weeks ago, not 40 years ago," says Benny. The sleepless nights came with the very real possibility that the resulting spectacle at the Abba Arena - total bill: £140 million - might turn out to be an act of vast hubris.
"That was the worst scenario," agrees Bjorn. "The guys from ILM kept reassuring us that it's going to be OK..."
"But, you know what?" says Benny. "They don't know either. No one ever really knows. Back in the day, you'd put out a new song and you'd think, will it be accepted for what we think it is - a bloody great recording? And people around you think they know, people in the business, but really, they don't have a clue what the public will think. Similarly, how were people going to respond to the Abbatars? No one knows shit until it happens."
They know now, of course. What nobody could adequately describe beforehand was brought closer by the astonished reviews that followed the Voyage premiere on May 26. "If only it were acceptable to begin reviews with the brain exploding emoji," began the London Evening Standard review - while The Times
proclaimed the spectacle was "out of this world". NME, though not a journal usually known for its championing of Abba, gasped, "Their movements, their shadows, their clothes, the way the sequins shimmer in the light... How can this not be real?"
Joining us in the kitchen of Abba's HQ, Ludvig says that if we want to understand why the experience of the Voyage show feels so overwhelming at times, we have to "park the binary of real and not real. When you see them singing Knowing Me, Knowing You, the way they look at each other, the body language, the emoting... If you'd been in that studio in Stockholm, that's what you would have seen. What's different is the... augmentation - the sense that you've stepped out of linear time. And we had no way of knowing if people were really going to react that way when the show opened."
Voyage director Baillie Walsh tells a story about Jalena, a friend who took her elderly mother "who is fairly far down the line with Alzheimer's" to see the show. "The mum now barely speaks and spends most of her time in her own world to the extent that Jalena didn't even know if she should take her. When the show started, her face lit up and she started dancing. Her mum hadn't been so animated for years. Just for an evening she felt as though she had her old mum back."
And the more I think about this story. I remember an exchange we had when I first interviewed Benny and Bjorn 20 years ago. Back in 2001, the four had been offered $1 billion to reform for a tour. Bjorn's response? "I could imagine the looks on the faces in the audience as they realised we had grown old." I didn't quite get it then, but I do now. It turns out that his understanding of what people want to see when they go to an Abba show in the 21st century was perhaps more evolved than anyone else. If you're one of the 738,000 fans who have so far made the journey here, you'll know how it feels to see spirits of pop past shimmering in red and blue sequins, gazing out beatifically from the disco Vatican they've built for themselves. And, in its own way, this also explains why Bjorn can enjoy such anonymity at what is essentially a cathedral of Abba.
"If you build the right machine," says Bjorn, "and you build it well, then you may be able to release the ghosts. And those ghosts are not just what you see on stage. They're all the stories and memories that come with them."
And the music, I say. "Yes, and the music. That was pretty good too."
Abba Voyage is now booking until November 2023, only at the Abba Arena in London. For information and ticket availability, visit abbavoyage.com
The Times Magazine 21

lunes, 28 de noviembre de 2022

Record Collector Magazine Issue 539 Christmas 2022

 




 Issue number: 539

Christmas 2022

Abba, Exclusive Benny Andersson interview Plus Their 40 Best Songs!


"WE LEARNED FROM

THE BEATLES"

And now to meet the man behind those 40 (plus one) amazing songs... Along with Björn Ulvaeus, ABBA's chief melodist, Benny Andersson, comprises what is finally - after years of being dismissed as pop lightweights – regarded as one of the great songwriting partnerships, up there with Lennon-McCartney, Jagger-Richards, Holland-Dozier-Holland and Wilson-Love. And with the Voyage album, their first for 39 years, and the ABBA Voyage concert spectacular featuring virtual avatars going on 'til well into 2023, ABBA are poised at last to be hailed as true immortals. But what was it like to make their first ABBA music since 1982? How have they managed to pick up after so lon-----g? "It was like it had been three weeks, not 40 years," Andersson tells Pete Paphides in this rare interview.

|Through the lens of a MacBook camera, the high eaves and variously shaped windows of Benny Andersson's RMV Studio studio in Stockholm, Sweden reveal what may have once been a church. The light that streams through the windows this afternoon reveals a grand piano and at least one studio console. Just out of shot (for now) is the trusty Synclavier which has withstood four decades of daily music-making from the only member of ABBA who witnessed the group's imperial years from a seated position.

After ABBA ceased trading at the end of 1982, a total of 39 years elapsed before their spectacular resurrection with the Voyage album and the eponymous shows in East London's specially created ABBA Arena, which presented a digitally recreated version of the group's younger selves alongside a hand-picked 10-piece live band. During that time, Benny and Björn Ulvaeus collaborated on two musicals - cold war drama Chess and Swedish literary epic Kristina Från Duvemåla – and saw the ABBA songbook slowly but surely come to be regarded as comparable to the very greatest pop music produced in the 20th Century.

For the guy who wrote those melodies, though, a line of continuity runs through the manic years of megastardom depicted in 1977's ABBA The Movie in somewhat nightmarish terms, right through to the present day. Every morning, this is where he comes every day, panning for melodic gold.

"Sometimes you come away with nothing,”

he says. "But if you don't try, then you're definitely not going to come up with anything.” Unlike the other three initials who make up ABBA, it's Benny who most closely corresponds to the description of a jobbing musician. He tours regularly with his Nordic folk ensemble Benny Anderssons Orkester, for whom he more commonly defaults to accordion. Back in 2010, at ABBA's induction into the Rock & Roll Hall Of Fame, he talked about his early years listening to music on the single radio channel that was available to him: "We didn't have any blues like you would call it blues in Sweden, we had some kind of blues because above [59 degrees latitude]... from eastern Russia, through Finland into Scandinavia, there's this 'melancholy belt', sometimes mistaken for the vodka belt [laughter]... It's definitely in the Swedish folk music, you can hear it in the Russian folk songs, you can hear it in the music from Jean Sibelius or Edvard Grieg from Norway, you could see it in the eyes of Greta Garbo, and you can hear it in the voice of Jussi Björling. And actually, you can hear it in the sound of Frida and Agnetha on some of our songs, too." While he happily acknowledges ABBA's early hunger for international success, also detectable is a certain pride taken in the fact that, when their songs ascended the charts all around the world, they did so on their own terms. Almost all their biggest disco hits, he beams, were written in a minor key.

Let's start with Voyage, because even though the album appeared at the end of last year, the album almost certainly wouldn't exist were it not for the ABBA Voyage shows and the ABBA Arena for which you built those shows. So much of this hugely secretive series of undertakings happened in plain sight. Didn't the auditions and rehearsals take place in Kentish Town in North London? 

Yes. Jamie Righton [formerly of The Klaxons] helped us to reach the musicians. We said to him that we want people who like to be onstage: we didn't particularly want people who were used to sitting in a pit. It was important to have people who liked to perform. So, he found these guys. Victoria [Hesketh aka Little Boots] was one of them and we liked her. The funny thing is, there are seven women and three guys in the band, and that's not a feminist thing; that was just because they were the best musicians.

It's amazing that this was all happening on the outskirts of Camden, and no one knew. I cycle through Kentish Town most days, and the idea that you guys were there, just rehearsing, is mind-blowing. How did no one know? 

Normally, we don't tell people where we are!

At that point, had you recorded any of the new songs? 

Yeah, the first two, Don't Shut Me Down and I Still Have Faith In You. We played it to

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The Voyage begins: Benny Andersson backstage in 1975: "It's great to have more than one singer, like The Beatles, Fleetwood Mac and Eagles"

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them, so they knew what was coming up. Those two were not in the setlist that we gave them: we had a set-list, but we had excluded those two because they weren't out yet. But we played the two songs for them, so they knew what was coming.

When you recorded those songs, did you have a good idea in your head of what ABBA Voyage was going to look like; what the shows were going to be like?

No, not at that time, because we obviously had ideas and how everyone working on this were looking at it, especially Ludvig [Andersson, Benny's son] and Svana [Gisla, who, with Ludvig and Benny, co-produced the Voyage shows], and also Johan Renck [director, best known for his work on Chernobyl- as well as being one-time rapper, Stakka Bo] was involved in the beginning. We recorded I Still Have Faith In You three years ago. And he filmed a video, with stand-ins for us.


So, you have these two songs, they're incredible. Who was the first person to say, "Why don't we keep going"? 

Maybe me! It could be me! Then we spent another year after that, trying to come up with music, sending it to Björn, or he could come here to my office where I'm sitting now. I'd play it to him and then he'd write the lyrics. And then we maybe did  three or four songs, and when we had those, we were saying, "Well, maybe Universal Music would be happy if we made a whole album" - they needed to have something to sell when this was going to happen. That was good thinking, in a way.


Did Agnetha and Frida know you were continuing to write a whole album?

Yes, it was step-by-step: first the two songs and then another three or four, then the rest. So, they came here in three... not sessions, but during three periods. Maybe they spent a total of 10 days in the studio.

It was almost business as usual.

It was. That was the funniest thing of all. Once they came in and recorded the first two songs, they came into the studio, and it hit me that I hadn't really asked them if they could still sing! I thought they could, but we hadn't really talked about it. But they were getting into the studio, we were playing through the songs, and they had the lyrics - of course, I sent them before. They started to sing, and it was all like we were [last here] three weeks ago, although it was 40 years ago. Quite a nice thing. I think we felt the same, all four of us.

There are a couple of songs on Voyage that reference other ABBA songs. The most striking is the reference to SOS at the end of Keep An Eye On Dan. 

Yeah, that's on purpose.

You were clearly having fun.

We were. That was the only way to get through with this. We said from the beginning, "OK, we're going to do an album, we're not pop musicians anymore." I mean, we're 75 and older than that, even. There's no point in trying to emulate or keep on track with what's going on musically today, because we don't understand it. I could only do what I think: "This is a good tune, these are good harmonies, this is good, we'll keep that." It has to come from inside and not from what's going on around. In the 70s, it was different, because then we were trying to keep on track with what was going on. "Oh, there's a snare drum sound on Rod Stewart's latest single," things like that.

I wanted to ask you about that, because looking back at ABBA's years as a productive studio entity, I can see that you were taking notes on what was working for other successful artists - especially in the beginning - because in the early years, when you didn't know if you were going to have a successful pop career internationally, it was important that the music was commercially successful as well as artistically successful, right?

Well, yeah, I guess. Because once we were out there, once we had been in Brighton, winning the Eurovision Song Contest with a pop song, then we just said, "Well, now we need to start working; now we can work, because people know that we exist, all over Europe." But it's more a matter that you sit there, and you say, "Is this good or is it bad? Do we like this? Is this good?" If we both say yes, we keep it. If only I say yes, I'll play it to Björn again and again until he gives up. But normally Björn and I would be happy with the result. First when we wrote the songs and then once we were in the studio, and then it was me and Björn and [engineer] Michael [B. Tretow], all three of us... [we all had to be] happy with the final result. We didn't give up until we all were. It wasn't enough that I liked it, or Björn liked it, or Michael... That's the way it worked. Very Swedish.

If I listen to those pre-Arrival ABBA records, it's a bit like you're trying different styles and almost waiting to see what there's a public appetite for. So, a song like Another Town, Another Train, is very different to My Mama Said. It's almost like you're spreading your bets, just to see what catches fire.

That's something we learned from The Beatles. They were always with their style in a way, much more so than we were, but what they did was, you heard a song with them, then the next

single was nothing close to the previous one, or the third, or the fourth, or the fifth. At that time, you needed to have some diversity, no? So, you have Fernando, then you don't want another Fernando, you want a song like Dancing Queen or My Mama Said, or whatever on that album, to give it some listening value. And another great thing, I have to say, that goes for many of the bands that I like, is that you have more than one singer; it helps you. You have John [Lennon] and Paul [McCartney] or you have Fleetwood Mac, you have the Eagles: it's great to have two singers, because that makes a difference between the tracks as well.

You're huge fans of Phil Spector and also Brian Wilson. 

Oh, yes, especially Brian Wilson.

Did you recognise something of yourself in Wilson's obsessive attention to detail?

Yes, I do, but I can't compare with him. They [The Beach Boys] were in a different situation, they had three or four tracks to use, and when we finished, we had 32 tracks in the studios, which made it a little easier to do overdubs, to add things. I don't know how he did that, it's incredible. But it's more the heart of the songs. It's the way he treated them.

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"I THINK MAMMA MIA WAS WHEN WE REALISED, ‘THIS IS SPECIAL, NOW WE FIND OUT WHAT WE CAN ACHIEVE””

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What was the first song of yours that had "the ABBA sound"?

I think Mamma Mia was when we realised, "Well, this is special, now we find out exactly what can we achieve with a song if you work enough on it," you know? You're in the studio, and you see, "Oh, there's a marimba there, let's see if we can use it" - that's sort of special, there's not much marimba [in other pop songs]. But then also it was really arranged, you know? It wasn't just strumming along. Everyone was playing exactly the notes that were needed.

Around the same time, Money, Money, Money was also released. That's such a strange song. I remember as a child feeling frightened.

Ha, yeah?

Can you understand why?

Maybe it's because the bass is playing the melody line [sings]. It's almost like [the movie] Jaws! It's a funny song, that one. It's more like a ragtime tune for the piano.

The sentiments of Money, Money, Money were relevant to a lot of economic migrants who had left their native countries in the hope of getting a job that would allow them to return home someday. They're enduring years of hardship, delaying the gratification that their savings will one day allow them to enjoy. Is that Björn trying to put words to the feeling of the melody that you've given him?

Photo: Baillie Walsh

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page 3

Money, Money was one of the first lyrics he wrote for ABBA. Stig Anderson [manager] was writing the words to our first songs, and that changed with Fernando and Money, Money, Money. Stig wrote a Swedish version of that for Frida's [Anni-Frid Lyngstad's] solo album that I produced [in Stig's early lyric, the narrator is consoling the titular protagonist of Fernando, who has lost his lover]. Björn totally changed that. Over time, he realised there was no need for him to try to write lyrics before we knew what the backing track music was saying to him. So, we did the backing track, did some sweetening, did some overdubs to make it come close to what it would be like at the end, and then he would take it and see if it spoke to him or not.

The intro of Knowing Me, Knowing You is fascinating, because it grabs you immediately with very few notes: this very high keyboard and then the guitar in a much lower register – the sound of conflict. What do you remember about that?

I remember coming up with the verse, we had the chorus, and I think the verse is so special, kind of brilliant, because there are no notes, it's just [sings the minimal top-line of the verses]... it's very good.

And then you have that minor-to-major transition on the chorus, when Frida sings, "Knowing you," which is very dramatic. 

Yes, it goes from minor to major.

Let's talk about your band back in the day. You had this amazing rhythm section, and the rhythm section on songs like The Name Of The Game and Lovers (Live A Little Longer); they were almost like your own Muscle Shoals. You must have known, around the time of Voulez-Vous, that the band was on fire... 

Yeah. Especially Rutger Gunnarsson, the bass player. I've been around and walking into the pit for Mamma Mia, the musical, several times, in New York or London or whatever, I go down to the pit to say hi to the band, and everyone is talking about Rutger Gunnarsson. They find him the finest bass player in the world. He's dead now, unfortunately. They were all - Lasse Wellander and Ola Brunkert, the drummer - a solid band.

That bassline on The Name Of The Game is something else, isn't it?

Yeah, it's good. But the bass playing on Voulez-Vous or Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! all those songs, it's just incredible, because that comes straight from him. A normal bass player will play like [sings] and he will play [sings more notes, arranged differently] and you won't hear it. I don't know how he did that.

I would say that song for song, as a beginning-to-end experience, Voulez-Vous just about edges it over the other albums. Oh, you think? 

That's interesting.

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page 104 Record Collector

I wonder if in the same way that Brian Wilson would hear Rubber Soul and be inspired to write Pet Sounds, something similar happened with Saturday Night Fever and Voulez-Vous? 

Possibly, yeah.

Because the first sessions for the album saw you take a break from your base in Stockholm, Polar Studios, and use Criteria Studios in Florida, where the Bee Gees recorded most of their disco-era music

We did, because Björn and I were trying to have a week of songwriting in the Bahamas. And we said, "If we're down here, why don't we call [engineer] Michael Tretow and ask him to fly down and we go into the studio in Florida and record?" - which was a bad idea. It was a good band, someone brought some musicians together and there was nothing wrong with them, they were good, but it wasn't our band, you know? It was difficult to

communicate. Normally, we would come in, I'd play the piano, Björn would play the guitar, we would sing them the song with rubbish lyrics and I would write down the harmonies on a sheet of paper so they knew what they were doing; maybe start a bassline so they knew there would be a bass note, and then we just went from there. But meeting new guys and trying to explain to them or make them understand what we were after, that wasn't so easy. But I tell you one thing: [the song] Voulez-Vous we recorded down there, the original backing track. Well, we came home, and it's totally redone, so we got in Rutger and our guys to do what you hear is our band. But the original was done in Florida.

Is there a version somewhere with theAmerican musicians on it? 

I think they're credited still, because they were in it from the beginning. I don't know. It should be somewhere on a roll of tape.

In a parallel universe where Robert Stigwood had asked you to write the theme tune to Saturday Night Fever, Voulez-Vous would be that song.

But not as good as Stayin' Alive! Stayin' Alive is great. We were inspired by the Bee Gees, because suddenly they became another band. They were good, they did Massachusetts and all those songs in the 60s, then all of a sudden, they were back with a totally different approach. It had to do with...

[Producer] Arif Mardin? Yeah. I suppose he had something to do with that. And it was very inspiring.

I think Ahmet Ertegun, who was in charge of Atlantic, hooked them up with the musicians that could give them the confidence to reinvent themselves.

Yeah. Those were the days, when people in record companies had some musical instinct, not just handling money.

The impression I got when the Voyage show happened is that it was just something you wanted to do anyway. Finally, technology had caught up with the only way in which you were willing to "come back" - and that was to create a sort of time-travel experience. That way, you didn't have to compromise. 

Yeah, you're right. It gave us the chance to pretend to be pop guys again.

I was happy to see that Summer Night City made it onto the setlist for the ABBA Voyage shows. Does that mean that you like it a bit more these days? I had the impression that, for a long time, you weren't so happy with it. 

No, I wasn't so happy with the recording, because we had problems. We took away our long beginning. And it's very compressed. But I think it's a good tune. I have to say, in Voyage, that's the best moment, going from, in the disco section, Lay All Your Love On Me to Summer Night City. The whole stage becomes a totally different thing, and it's an amazingly beautiful design.

"WE MET JOHN CLEESE, AND SAID, 'WE'RE WRITING A MUSICAL, WOULD YOU WRITE THE BOOK?' HE SAID 'NO'!" 

Can I ask you about Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! (A Man After Midnight) and what Madonna did with it to create Hung Up? You must like it because you allowed her to do it.

Yeah. She didn't come [to Sweden], she sent her right-hand woman. She had to come because we said, "We're not going to say yes until we hear it." Then she said, "Well, I'll let you hear it, but I don't want to send it over via the internet, so I'll send someone with a CD." We listened to it in my room here, and I thought it was bloody great. So, we said, "OK," and split the copyright.

Madonna did an interview on the Song Exploder podcast recently where she talked about the process of writing it. She said she was nervous about the prospect of getting your permission: she loved it so much but couldn't bear the idea that you might not let her use it.

I can understand that, because it's such a vital ingredient in that song. If you swap that for something else, then it becomes something totally different. I think it was a clever thing to do.

You never wrote a Christmas song until ABBA Voyage: Happy New Year was the nearest you got. Happy New Year is a very beautiful song. It feels very Swedish.

Yeah, well, we are Swedish!

The sentiment is very fatalistic, with the suggestion that, in 10 years' time, the entire human race might have destroyed itself. 

It was written in Barbados. Björn and I went out for a week, to the same house that Paul and Linda McCartney hired a year before. I heard about this wonderful place, and I thought, "We must go there." We met John Cleese, by the way, in Barbados. We said, "We're thinking about writing a musical about New Year's Eve. Would you be interested in writing the book for that?" and he said, "No"! We didn't get any further with that idea. But we liked the song.

Let's talk about the title track of The Visitors. It's one of your most extraordinary songs - and, at the time, a brave departure from a recognisably 'ABBA' sound. In the ABBA Voyage shows, it's the first song. That's quite a statement.

That was Ludvig's idea. We had a list of maybe 30 songs, and we tried to think how would this be if we actually did it live, if we had that to play? So, we eliminated a couple of songs, and we added another one, and we had a setlist. And Ludvig was really [lobbying] for opening with The Visitors, and then Hole In Your Soul. And we said, "[Hole In Your Soul] is the song we used to end with, and now I think you should put it in the beginning." Listen to it. It's a good opening.


Most groups would have started with a huge hit. But by starting with The Visitors, it establishes a relationship. We meet you on your territory, quite a confident thing to do. 

Yeah, well, we knew that we had songs coming up.

Around that time, groups like The Human League were very vocal in their love of ABBA. Do you know their song Don't You Want Me? 

Yeah, yeah.

You know the intro is inspired by Eagle, right? 

No. I have never listened to it that way.

They admitted they got the idea from listening to Eagle. It is almost the same... 

Yeah, I'm going to listen to it.

How about Oliver's Army by Elvis Costello? The piano motif is inspired by

Dancing Queen... 

I didn't know that. I do know Elvis is very fond of SOS.

Oliver's Army was going to be a B-side when [keyboardist] Steve Nieve heard Dancing Queen and had the idea of doing a similar- sounding piano part throughout. At that point, they realised they now had an A-side.

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Cool, I like that. It's nice when what we do is inspiring other people. Like Brian Wilson inspired us, or Paul McCartney.

I hear Pete Townshend came up to you in a restaurant to tell you how much he loved your music... 

I like his music, too. We also have the Synclavier [synth] in common [walks across his studio to show us his Synclavier]. Pete Townshend and I both got them maybe 40 years ago. He also has a GX-1: the big Yamaha synthesiser that I use. He's also interested in the folk music side, so we have communicated a little.

The Day Before You Came is a song you're clearly fond of. You featured it on your 2017 solo album, Piano. I guess a lot of these songs must have started out that way. I interviewed Billy Joel in 2007 and he said all his songs start out as solo classical piano pieces, then he decides what sort of a pop song to make out of them. Have some of your songs started out like that?

Nowadays, everything [starts out that way]. Even in the earlier days. Some songs are sort of 'pianistic'. Not so much a song like Waterloo, not even Dancing Queen. But a lot of the other stuff is, you know, like My Love,

My Life or the songs I have on my piano album. Some of [ABBA's songs] are more pianistic and I didn't record them... But you're right, if it sounds OK when you sit alone at the piano, it's probably worth keeping.

What's an example of a song we know that would have started as a solo piano piece? 

SOS? They all started on the little old piano in Stockholm, where Björn and I used to sit, day after day.

Did you watch [Beatles documentary] Get Back? 

Oh, yes, the best documentary ever made. It's fantastic. Like a fly on the wall, you know? Wonderful. I've seen it twice.

It's the story of all bands, isn't it? 

In a way, I guess. 

What did you recognise about yourselves in it?

 I recognised a part of myself in Paul: he never gave up, constantly wanting to move things forward. Sometimes, nothing happens, but he keeps on feeding the band with stuff. I like that. I'm not saying I'm the same, but I recognise the method.

Just to see the song Get Back appear out of thin air was incredible, wasn't it? 

Yeah, wonderful. You never see these things. I've never seen that.

A lot of the responses to the ABBA Voyage shows were very emotional. Was that expected?

No. We did not know at all. That's the thing with all of this: you never know until afterwards. You write the song, how will it be after it's recorded, and once it's recorded, once it's out there? Will it be accepted for what we think it is, a bloody great recording? Or will people ignore it? No one ever knows. People think they know... people in the business. And it's the same with this. How about coming onstage as 'ABBAtars'? Of course we don't know [how it'll be received]: they don't know shit! No one knows until it happens.

Your son Ludvig talks about the ABBAtars. In the programme, he said they have an "emotional voodoo power". 

Yeah, yeah.

Do you know what he means? 

No! I don't, but maybe he's right. I have an interesting take on this, because I've seen a number of performances with an audience, and

(CIn transition: the band in their motion capture suits preparing to be turned into digital entities aka ABBAtars))

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before we had an audience at all, no one knew how they would react. Would they think that they were watching a film and that they weren't needed? Because normally, when you see an artist, you're there for them, you're there to show your enthusiasm for their music, or their artistry or their voices or whatever they're doing up there. In this case, we didn't know, but I think the audience recognises the fact that, OK, so we're not there, but we've made this for them, which is absolutely true. They don't have to lift us up, because we're not there; all they can do is absorb what we are trying to do for them. And I think that makes them... I don't know, relax.

You said you watched a few times: where Did the response to any particular songs surprise you? were you watching from? Were you among the crowd? 

Yeah, yeah, I was sitting just a couple of rows below the sound desk.

 So, you were watching people as much as you were watching the band?

Yeah, yeah.

That must have been amazing.

 It was. It was with only a third-full house, for invited people. Just to see that they were getting it, that and they were accepting what was going on, was such a tremendous relief, because then [we realised] it will work.

Did the response to any particular songs surprise you?

Don't Shut Me Down, because that's a new song, it hasn't had time to travel around for years. But they took to it, so that was good.

It sounds like a classic ABBA song, like it's always been there.

Yeah. I like it for its progress through the keys. You start in one key, you end up in a totally different one: I like that.


You held some songs back, didn't you? Isn't the set going to be changed at some point? 

Could be done. It would take some work for ILM [Industrial Light & Magic, the visual effects company with whom ABBA collaborated for the Voyage shows]. It's a million pounds a minute or something to make avatars of us. They have everything that we did two years ago here in Stockholm, when we were recording everything, doing the filming. We did a couple of other tunes as well [for the Voyage show], so they don't need us for that: they can just start working with the information they have. But we

shall see. We'll let this run for a while, so people have a chance to get their money back, the people who invested.

 This issue of Record Collector is going to feature a list of the 40 best ABBA songs. What do you think should be No 1?

I Still Have Faith In You.

Is that your favourite right now or do you feel that that's your all-time peak?

 It's because it represents who we are now, you know? It's not very commercial, it's not catchy, but it's quite intricate, a great lyric and a good recording. I'll put it there. And then maybe Knowing Me, Knowing You, Dancing Queen, Mamma Mia, SOS, The Day Before You Came...


The thing with the Voyage album that people found moving is it felt like it was something you were doing for each other.

 It's absolutely true.

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"WE DO IT BECAUSE WE WANT TO DO IT, AND THE LADIES CAN STILL SING AND WE CAN STILL WRITE MUSIC"

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PAGE: 6

It felt like a private moment that we were being allowed to listen in on. That made it very different to any other reunion I can think being allowed to listen in on. 

Yeah. As I said earlier, we couldn't try to emulate what's going on nowadays, being modern, we could only do what we can do, and there's nothing to prove here. People probably will say, "Well, I think they were better in the 70s." So fine, maybe we were, but it doesn't matter, because this is what we do now, and we do it because we can and we want to do it, and the ladies can still sing, and we can still write music. This is what it becomes when you're 75 years old.

Tell us something about ABBA that no one knows.

Oh, boy. There's nothing to know! Nobody knows anything about us! They know what we've been doing, they know the records, they know the pictures, they know what we say in interviews, but they don't know anything about how [our personal] life is, which is quite conscious. They don't know I walk the dog in the morning and late at night, I go shopping for food, I cook every day, stuff like that. I live a normal life: I have always done.  I think that goes for nearly all of us. 

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