FRI., MAY 11, 2007
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Under the Radar: Hanne Hukkelberg
by Paul Moody
“I’ve just come from Transylvania!” says an out-of-breath Hanne Hukkelberg, voice as clear as a mountain stream.
“Not the country, I should add. It’s the name of the club we’re playing tonight in Milan.” So bewitching is the music of Hanne Hukkelberg, you sense she could have even Dracula drooling into his Bloody Mary. The daughter of two classical musicians, Hanne grew up in Kongsberg, two hours from Oslo. Raised on an eclectic musical diet incorporating “Bach, Ibsen and Cat Stevens,” she fought a teenage urge to be Madonna via a traditional Norwegian cure — joining a doom metal band.
“We were called Funeral,” she laughs. “It was good practice for me as a singer — I enjoy music when it’s unconventional. I’ve never wanted to make pop music.”
Following graduation from the Norwegian Academy of Music, Hukkelberg's 2005 debut album Little Things alerted the world to a songwriter blessed with Cat Power’s range and, by the sound of it, the Brothers Grimm in the producer's chair. Spooky and sensual, it brought both widespread acclaim and a Norwegian Grammy®.
Cue her latest album, Rykestrasse 68. An enchanted forest of haunting jazz melodies ("A Cheaters Armoury") and odes to Hanne’s cat ("Obelix") it is a place where glockenspiels and clarinets combine without ever making you want to run screaming for the sun lounger. But what’s that weird tapping sound on "The Northwind"?
“That’s an old Remington typewriter,” she says, laughing again.
“I’m not using it as a novelty. For me, music is about creating something new. Hearing things when you least expect it — a song coming from a neighbour’s radio, a train going past — inspires you. Every group out there has an electric guitar, bass and drums. If music is going to progress it has to broaden its horizons.”
To that end, cutlery, an old cheese-slicer and "a wooden shoe" are called into service throughout Rykestrasse 68. Those with any doubts as to Hukkleberg’s power to reinterpret songs to spine-tingling effect are directed to her cover of the Pixies' " Break My Body." Smart, sophisticated and unashamedly nocturnal, the overall mood brings to mind the '30s experiments of Kurt Weill. No wonder she chose to record the album in Berlin.
“The reason I went to Berlin was because I have friends there and it seemed like a good opportunity to get away and compose," Hukkelberg explains. "I haven’t got a David Bowie fixation! I spent a lot of time on my own, collecting different moods and thinking how I could incorporate them into my songs.”
Hukkelberg's music doesn't give up its secrets easily, but listen closely and the layers slowly reveal themselves.“I got a great compliment from someone the other night," she says. "He said he thought my music was beautiful, but after a while he detected some humour in it. But when he listened to it a little more he discovered a third layer, which was very sad and melancholic. That was the perfect description for me. It’s a mixture of the beautiful and the funny. But it hurts.”
“Not the country, I should add. It’s the name of the club we’re playing tonight in Milan.” So bewitching is the music of Hanne Hukkelberg, you sense she could have even Dracula drooling into his Bloody Mary. The daughter of two classical musicians, Hanne grew up in Kongsberg, two hours from Oslo. Raised on an eclectic musical diet incorporating “Bach, Ibsen and Cat Stevens,” she fought a teenage urge to be Madonna via a traditional Norwegian cure — joining a doom metal band.
“We were called Funeral,” she laughs. “It was good practice for me as a singer — I enjoy music when it’s unconventional. I’ve never wanted to make pop music.”
Following graduation from the Norwegian Academy of Music, Hukkelberg's 2005 debut album Little Things alerted the world to a songwriter blessed with Cat Power’s range and, by the sound of it, the Brothers Grimm in the producer's chair. Spooky and sensual, it brought both widespread acclaim and a Norwegian Grammy®.
Cue her latest album, Rykestrasse 68. An enchanted forest of haunting jazz melodies ("A Cheaters Armoury") and odes to Hanne’s cat ("Obelix") it is a place where glockenspiels and clarinets combine without ever making you want to run screaming for the sun lounger. But what’s that weird tapping sound on "The Northwind"?
“That’s an old Remington typewriter,” she says, laughing again.
“I’m not using it as a novelty. For me, music is about creating something new. Hearing things when you least expect it — a song coming from a neighbour’s radio, a train going past — inspires you. Every group out there has an electric guitar, bass and drums. If music is going to progress it has to broaden its horizons.”
To that end, cutlery, an old cheese-slicer and "a wooden shoe" are called into service throughout Rykestrasse 68. Those with any doubts as to Hukkleberg’s power to reinterpret songs to spine-tingling effect are directed to her cover of the Pixies' " Break My Body." Smart, sophisticated and unashamedly nocturnal, the overall mood brings to mind the '30s experiments of Kurt Weill. No wonder she chose to record the album in Berlin.
“The reason I went to Berlin was because I have friends there and it seemed like a good opportunity to get away and compose," Hukkelberg explains. "I haven’t got a David Bowie fixation! I spent a lot of time on my own, collecting different moods and thinking how I could incorporate them into my songs.”
Hukkelberg's music doesn't give up its secrets easily, but listen closely and the layers slowly reveal themselves.“I got a great compliment from someone the other night," she says. "He said he thought my music was beautiful, but after a while he detected some humour in it. But when he listened to it a little more he discovered a third layer, which was very sad and melancholic. That was the perfect description for me. It’s a mixture of the beautiful and the funny. But it hurts.”
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