Post by Admin on Feb 5, 2014 11:01:49 GMT -4
Photos by Kim Hiorthoy
Neneh Cherry: "Blank Project" (via SoundCloud) 
When I get Neneh Cherry on the phone at her home in Sweden, she has just finished vacuuming. “How glamorous,” she chuckles in a full-bodied laugh—which quickly morphs into a hacking coughing fit. She’s been feeling under the weather, and I suggest that maybe vacuuming up dust is maybe not the best thing she could be doing right now. “You know, you’re right,” she says, mock-indignant. “I need to tell the other people in my family that I shouldn’t be doing this shit.”
This is the Neneh Cherry we’ve come to expect—brimming with electric charisma and always ready to chuck the conventions of femininity out the window. When the stepdaughter of jazz legend Don Cherry was just 16, she joined a late incarnation of feminist punk pioneers the Slits; a decade later she famously performed her global hit “Buffalo Stance” on "Top of the Pops" eight months pregnant, which in spirit (and general badassery) now seems to have foreshadowed of M.I.A.’s unforgettable 2009 Grammy performance.
In attitude and style (“Buffalo Stance” was an homage to forward-thinking stylist Ray Petri, whose aesthetic is as Tumblr-chic as something designed this afternoon), Cherry’s become an icon of confident cool and an inspiration to a certain stripe of independent-minded pop artists. One example: In fellow Swede Robyn's recent video for “U Should Know Better”, she decorated her young, androgynous protagonist’s bedroom wall with—what else?—a vintage Neneh Cherry poster.
Though Cherry had international success with subsequent solo albums Homebrew and Man in the 1990s, “Buffalo Stance” marked her only mainstream crossover moment in the U.S. As she suggests during our conversation, she found the American music industry stiflingly attached to labels and genre identities. “We went over [to America] with our funny little posse from London,” she says, “And in the black department, [“Buffalo Stance”] wasn’t black enough, and in the white department it was too black. So it was this weird middle satellite, floating around.”
Cherry’s spent the past few years making music with other hard-to-box-in artists. Last summer she released The Cherry Thing, a thrillingly unruly collaboration with free jazz trio the Thing that had her covering the likes of the Stooges, Madvillain, and Suicide. And on February 24—nearly 18 years after her last solo album—she’ll release Blank Project, which features contributions from Four Tet’s Kieran Hebden, who produced all ten tracks, along with Robyn and London electronic duo RocketNumberNine. The menacing, minimal title track finds Cherry sounding more brooding and pensive than usual, but she’s still dishing out that same brand of tough love that she was in her “Buffalo Stance” days: “Too many times you come crawling, say sorry too late/ Paper cup regrets will not stick/ Better change.”
Don’t call it a retread, though. “I have this sense of feeling quite calm and settled in what I'm doing right now, but also a sense of urgency,” Cherry says. “I think [Blank Project] is very much about being here and now rather than being trapped or trying to recreate some kind of nostalgia.” As ever, it’s anyone’s guess where that urgency will drive her in the future. When I ask her what’s up next, she shrugs and says something that succinctly sums up her entire career: “I’m allergic to doing the obvious thing.”
Pitchfork: It’s been almost 18 years years since your last solo album. Why does the timing feel right now?
Neneh Cherry: Well, I’ve always been doing stuff, being creative. But I got to the point where I starting to feel this longing, craving, itchy feeling—which was the first sign that it was time. I've made a few attempts to make other solo records, but when I've looked back at the body of work I've always felt like I was never quite there. But now I feel like I’m inside these songs—they embody the place that I’m living in right now.
Pitchfork: You recorded the album with Kieran Hebden of Four Tet. How did you guys link up?
NC: He used to be in this amazing band called Fridge, and I've been a big fan of his for a long time. We ping-ponged around knowing some of the same people in London, but it wasn't until The Cherry Thing that we sat down and decided that we'd work together. So we'd been doing some stuff, and I originally thought, "Oh, maybe he'll do a track or two." Then there was this amazing place in time where Kieran could do the whole album, and he wanted to do the whole album. I was super honored and excited and thrilled.
Pitchfork: Where did you end up recording?
NC: Kieran lives in Woodstock some of the time, so he wanted to work there. It was great. We were all in a live-in studio—a very vibrant place that's like a converted old church. Kieran was the only person going home at night. It was all about the rawness and capturing stuff in the moment. We were doing two tracks a day—10 songs in five days—and we rehearsed quite a lot. Kieran built us these really funny tents in the chapels. Tom and Ben [of RocketNumberNine] had their little compartments. I had this weird, nomadic little tent with a rug over it, like a booth where I'd sing the vocals.
Pitchfork: How would you describe his style as a producer?
NC: He's, dare I say, a kind of genius. He's got an astounding ear for sound and precision, even when it's raw and rugged. So I thought we would get into the studio and he’d want to layer stuff—keyboards, synths, whatever—but he was like, “No, take stuff away, get rid of it.” It allows the songs to be as they are. Also, he’d already worked with RocketNumberNine, so he understands them. They have a hypnotic, forceful sound. It's electronic music but they're playing it live, so the unevenness of what they do is kind of punky. It just gives me energy.
Pitchfork: Robyn makes an appearance on the record too. What can you tell us about that song?
NC: She's on a song called "Out of the Black", and it's not the one that you would expect that we would have collaborated on. The obvious thing would be for Robyn and I to do a jumping-up-and-down-type song or something a bit more cheeky, but it's quite melancholy.
Robyn and I had been talking about doing something together for ages, and to me she's just one of the most interesting young women out there. She really inspires me. I met her when she was 15 or 16, because she was really baby-young when she had her first hit. I knew people who were working with her, so she actually came to my house in London around that time. We've always crossed paths and have been really happy to see each other. Then maybe a year-and-a-half ago we said, "Maybe it's time to actually do something."
Kieran and I had been having this conversation about a song I was having a hard time with, and he was like, “Maybe this is the one you should do together.” So we got together in Stockholm, and we had the most amazing day. Robyn is really something special. Hopefully that's not the only thing that we do together.
And I think we both feel we’re connected in a way. When I look at her I recognize a lot of myself when I was that age. I have a sense of family with her and I understand who she is and what makes her tick, and when I see her on stage she’s so alive, and it makes me really happy. I relate to that and understand that sense of belonging in what you do. When I’m singing or on stage, I become complete all of a sudden. I’m whole. I don't think I've really had that in so many other things in my life.
Pitchfork: You’ve always been a pioneering figure for women in hip-hop. What’s your take on the current state of the female MC? Do you think things are better or worse than they were when Raw Like Sushi came out in 1989?
NC: God, I have mixed feelings, but I've always had mixed feelings. I don’t know if it’s any better or worse. I do think there’s a really boring side of what’s going on now—the over-repetitive, oversexualized thing. There’s a lot of women that know better, that are really beautiful and sexy, but it’s like: We know you can shake your ass in a G-string and wave it around, it’s not that risque. It’s not dangerous. It’s very obvious and boring. In my eyes, it's just played-out; 25 years ago, when Raw Like Sushi came out, there was another version of that. But I love M.I.A. and a lot of other women out there now. I’ve always looked to other women for inspiration and kicks. When a woman stands up and does her thing, it never ceases to excite and inspire me.
C
