Atlantica - 01.05.2002, Page 23

A T L A N T I C A 21
A collaboration with Icelandic musician Jóhann Jóhannsson on his solo album
Stranger Things brought Marc Almond to Iceland for the first time at the end
of 2000. The one-time member of dance-orientated band Lhooq and
Almond had their manager in common. “It was originally just two or
three songs I was working on with Jóhann, but I was so happy with the
way that they turned out that I asked him to produce the whole album
for me. He then came to London and we did the rest of the vocals
there, but he did most of the strings and programming here.” Why do
they work well together? “We have really good chemistry. We see eye
to eye on music. And he was a good producer to work with because he
was very strict on my vocals, and this time I took less control. I left it
open to Jóhann and let him tell me what to do really. He would make
me sing a song again and again to try and bring out a better singer in
me, with his wonderful arrangements and his strings and things, and
I think he really did that.”
And so, this second visit was to be the logical conclusion of a project
that was conceived and executed with Icelandic musicians. But
Almond wasn’t banking on the circumpolar climate when he planned
this first live performance with Jóhannsson and (ex-Lhooq) vocalist
Sara Gudmundsdóttir. “I had a bit of laryngitis a week or so ago, and
the dry air and cold here aggravated that. I lost my voice during the
performance a little, and so it was a bit of a struggle for me, but it
made it a lot easier that the audience were warm and forgiving,” he
explains.
It’s a strange word to use, “forgiving”, but then Almond’s spent a
large portion of his life in one spotlight or another. Surrounded by gos-
sip, intrigue and urban myth in the ‘80s, Almond refers to those times
as being clouded by “personal problems”. Since then, his solo pro-
jects have been more the fruit of soul searching than hit-making. He
has explained himself in his biography, Tainted Life, and now he’s
explaining himself to me. “I’m quite a loner in a lot of ways,” he con-
fesses. “I don’t mix very well.” He goes further: “I’m not a good
celebrity. I hate being a celebrity. Some people are very good at it; you
know, good on chat shows and doing the whole celebrity thing. But I’m
terrible at that. I’m far too self-conscious.”
Being open and forthcoming about being painfully shy is a celebrity
cliché. But contradiction in terms as it would appear to be, somehow I
am inclined to believe Almond. Everything about the way he delivers
this information seems to confirm its truth. He’s more like a job appli-
cant than a celebrity. But he can get through this – he’s had plenty of
interview experience. Just because he can do it, however, doesn’t
mean he enjoys it.
I notice Almond speaks quickly and with an even tone. “I’d love to be
more relaxed with myself and I try to be, but it’s not something that
comes naturally to me. I don’t find it very easy to make conversation
with people. As much as I would want to, I just don’t communicate
with people very well outside of music. Taken outside of the studio or
off the stage, I haven’t got a clue about what to talk to people about. I
can amuse a crowd for a while, but sit me down to have a con-
versation with someone and I don’t know what to say.”
Is the pop persona protesting too much? I don’t think so. He’s
not doing as bad a job as he makes out where conversation’s
concerned, but then again, if he wasn’t presented with a pro-
motional opportunity, it’s likely he would have spared himself
the trouble. And who could blame him?
Perhaps this is why he travels further afield to make music. He
has found a “wonderfully creative place for musicians” in
Iceland. And in Russia, he’s been working on an album of tra-
ditional songs made with all Russian musicians, including a
string section and a military choir. “Everybody involved in the
project is Russian apart from me,” he explains, “I even sing
some of the songs in Russian.” But he’s not sure when he’ll fin-
ish that album since the rest of this year will be dedicated to
Soft Cell.
Those that had forgotten or (shudder to think) are too young
to have caught ‘Tainted Love’ the first time round, are bound
to bump into it this year. Be it the Marilyn Manson version or
the Damion Mendes (who reworked some of the Gorillaz’ most
successful singles) mix, ‘Tainted Love’ is coming back and with
a Best of Soft Cell album hard on its heels.
This year will also see the release of a new Soft Cell album, the
ingredients for which are the “cynical” times we live in, media
obsessions, middle age anxieties and, of course, a dash of
sleaze. “I think it was always an open-ended book for Dave
(Ball) and I. There was never any animosity. We split up while
we still had chemistry between us.”
Almond seems to be getting punk rock about middle age: “I
don’t feel middle-aged, but I still have to look at myself in the
mirror and I am going through a midlife crisis. Sometimes, in
my mind, I’m still 17. I don’t really mix well with people of my
own age because, to me, they seem so old and well, middle-
aged. But I’m now 44 years old and what people call middle-
aged, and I can’t hope to be the naïve, innocent kid that I was
back then.” Would he want to be? Of course not. It’s been the
bumpy ride from ‘Tainted Love’ to Tainted Life that’s inspired
his musical takes on the Blakeian themes of innocence and
experience. And so, while ‘80s Soft Cell was wide-eyed (and
bushy-tailed), Almond says he’s now adding his forty-some-
thing take on life. He laughs for the first time in the interview
and adds, “I try to look at it in a humorous way.” And besides,
what could be less typically middle-aged than being in a pop
band?
Jennifer McCormack is the editor of IcelandCulture.com
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Love
of soul searching than hit-making
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