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  • samedi 13 février 2016

    Stina Nordenstam

    This first blog post will be dedicated to one of the most ghostly figures in the recent history of girls with a guitar. She has almost never been on stage, comes from an exotic - though cold - country (Sweden), sings with the voice of a 10 years old girl, has virtually disappeared from circulation for over a decade, and her name is hard enough to remember that few people keep it in mind: Stina Nordenstam . A ghost...



    It is only very recently that the modest author of this stammering blog became aware of her existence, thanks to Thomas Burgel from "Inrocks" magazine, who quotes her in a short article about Marika Hackman, another exceptional girl with a guitar, about whom we'll talk soon here.

    Stina Nordenstam was born in Sweden under the name Kristina Ulrika Nordenstam in 1969. She would therefore now be around 47 years old, but little has been heard from her since her last album (The World is Saved, 2004) except rare appearances on the albums of equally vague friends (Filur and Nine Horses, circa 2006-2007). According to the rumor, that we have not verified, she would have made ​​a very good marriage, leaving her in freedom from want. If so, good for her, but too bad for us.



    For the enigmatic Swedish practically disappeared after giving an absolute melancholy masterpiece. "The World is Saved" she announced proudly in 2004, in an album with a particular failed cover: the font used there seems to have been chosen so that only some old Gothic get interested in her rescue of humanity. Yes, the disc is dark but it deserves better than that. Back when I was still digging in the crates, I probably would not have paid any attention to this CD, precisely because of its cover, which refers to a genre to which it does not entirely belong to. But maybe the Swedish girl didn't want to touch her audience, stand aside enough so no one would get interested in her ...



    Stina Nordenstam's career began with Memories of a Color (Telegram, 1991), a relatively bland and soft disk, nevertheless with neat "jazzy" arrangements, and - above all - a voice that emerges, unique, the one of a kid, childish, that some compared later to that of Björk, which, in our humble opinion, they go astray as Stina's voice has a brutality, a way of being "on your face" despite her "belated" nature, which sends Björk back to what she is: a mannerist!





    According to her biographers, she is then spotted by legendary British indie label 4AD, but cooperation does not work, without anyone knowing exactly why. Then she closed her eyes (Telegram, 1994)... and everything became much better, like a dream! While keeping some ties with jazz or bossa nova, the music is more incisive and her voice becomes more naive, less worked, a universe is created: ethereal while staying alive, with that voice at once ingenuous and in your face. A remarkable record although sometimes a little too mild.









    But, probably because she didn't want to get too successful, or because she wanted to try something else, or cover her tracks, her next album leans more towards garage rock: hello electricity, goodbye jazzy atmosphere, even if she keeps the violins and saxophone here and there. The tone is much darker, the mood is sad, but the voice remains the same. And there's always this languor, paradoxical enough for an album called Dynamite (1996)! The style of Stina gets a little dry, which is not unwelcome, since it keeps the same candor.








    She will go much further two years later with a cover album (People Are Strange) totally confusing: she literally destroys a dozen of classics that come out totally unrecognizable from her mill. She keeps the words, but changes tempos, chokes or deploys orchestrations, creating genuine original (or at least personal) works! Her "Purple Rain" is thus a real gem of convulsive beauty. The album is confusing and requires several listenings before being appreciated. Single and immense regret: the (perhaps intentionally) awful recording quality, that seems done with a tape recorder behind a pillow inside a bathtub.







    Probably frightened by such audacity, Stina disappears for three years before returning with an album whose title seems to announce her metamorphosis: This Is Stina Nordenstam (2001). Gone are the absolute blackness and radical experimentations. A "pop" moulting, with the backing of  Brett Anderson  from Suede here and there. It's not a bad album, far from it, but we are a bit surprised by this apparent backtracking and perhaps a little disappointed with her voice, which this time seems a little cramped in the music. However let's be reassured: her "pop" remains under valium, no chance to get out of it joyful. She sometimes talks about happiness, but the tone of her voice contradicts every small affectation adorning the instrumentation. Some songs would almost seem danceable, but the tempo seems slowed down just a bit, just enough for us to want to go back to bed before starting dancing. And the cover does not lie on the content: Stina is an angel, but a fragile and sick angel wandering in the pale lights of the corridors of a psychiatric clinic.








    Fortunately, two years later, comes a new metamorphosis, a great and successful synthesis of all paths explored until then: The World Is Saved (2004), and we also are suddenly! The instrumentation is somewhat refined, the overall tone is - loosely, very loosely - more joyful and - above all - there is a great consistency in the album, a perfect balance between refined arrangements and that voice, of the kind you'd expect hearing coming out of the grave of a child.




    And as there is nothing more to do once you have saved the world, from now on Stina is silent, or almost ... We owe her a "sound installation " in 2013 for the "Way Out West" festival in Gothenburg, and that's about all. We hope she will want to save us again.

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