Sivert Hoyem in ‘A’ / Music is my personal link to everything upbeat and positive

THE Sivert Hoyem visits Athens for an evening that promises to be highly emotional and warm. The voice of Madrugada will be at Floyd on Piraeus Street this coming Saturday 27th April for a live performance that will thrill his many fans, eight years after his last appearance at the Herodion. “In every new tour of the band, but also in every one of mine for my personal work, the stop in Greece became a priority, to repay the love we felt from the first moment” he declares to AUGI on Sunday, talking about the style of the new of the work, his influences, but also about the record system, which “is made in such a way that it always favors someone stronger than the artist, whether it is the record company or an intermediary”. He notes that he is worried about “the sense of lack of optimism”. “I don’t feel that the things that are done today somehow push society forward,” he says, stressing that he is “comforted by the thought that even today music remains a powerful universal language.”

Your new album, ‘On an island’, seems very personal. But is it equally confessional?

I’ve done more confessional songs in the past that talked about my life, but this record had a different feel, as it was recorded in a fishing village in Nordland, Northern Norway. So the songs may not be related to my life circumstances, but I felt that here I might be expressing myself more directly than ever before. Over the last few years I had started to feel that my musical field of view had become quite limited – I was starting to feel claustrophobic in a way. So I felt the need to broaden my horizon again. The record may not necessarily have some personal experiences, but I feel that I have found my honesty again. I also started writing stories again, I approached lyricism as a storyteller. The narratives may not be autobiographical, but I see myself in the songs with an intensity I have long felt.

When reviews explore your influences, they often cite Leonard Cohen, Nick Cave, and even the early Tindersticks. Personally, I identify more with Tim Buckley.

Of course, I’m a big fan of the British folk scene of the 60s and 70s, but of the Buckley family, I’m more of a fan of the son, Jeff Buckley. At the time Jeff appeared the rock world had not yet recovered from the advent of grunge and it was so liberating to hear Jeff Buckley sing in such a fragile style and putting all his passion into the songs, taking any vocal risk without hesitation. Because the alternative rock and grunge of the time, as lively and attractive as they were, at the same time had limitations due to their masculine aesthetics. Suddenly Jeff Buckley changed everything and showed new ways, mainly in terms of the way we could sing. His influence was huge when I took my first steps with Madrugada.

Talking about the first steps of the band, in the late 90s when we heard you for the first time with the record “Industrial silence” the song “Strange color blue” was constantly heard on the Greek radio. How do you remember those days after 25 years?

I have only good memories from that time because I was in a band that was focused on a goal and didn’t give up. Even when we didn’t succeed, we felt that with enough work we would find our sound and move on. We still didn’t know our style and songs like “Vocal” and “Strange color blue” were decisive in finding our musical identity. We had no idea if an audience would eventually discover us, and there’s a genuine joy in the process of creating when no one has expectations of you. I remember how adventurous and creative it was to enter the studio without knowing our limits. Of course, it’s better to have listeners out there than none at all, but at the same time there’s also the allure of the unexpected, especially from a group of musicians who work together and are closely related.

That start happened at a time when traditional discography was still alive and well – you were even signed to Virgin. Today, in the digital age where music distribution has changed, some young Madrugada would have the opportunity to create and make a living from their music.

I imagine it will be possible. Look, things weren’t necessarily easier back then. It took us a long time to start getting paid regularly for our work. We played all the time for many years and in a strange way the money ended up in any other pocket than ours. The system is set up in such a way that it always favors someone stronger than the artist, be it the record company or a middleman. Getting paid well and fairly will never be easy. However, as to whether things are more difficult today for a new band than back then, I am not in a position to answer that with certainty.

There has been a lot of effort lately for streaming platforms to increase their payment rates to artists. Maybe better days are finally coming for music?

This is necessary to do. Streaming platforms have a responsibility to honestly pay the people who provide them with their work. Platforms like Spotify need to take responsibility. It seems strange, but with today’s music distribution model the shareholders of the major companies are making more money than ever before. And a large portion of that has to be returned to the artists in some way. Anything that costs a lot of money to produce and requires mental effort should not be given away completely for free. This makes no sense.

Over the years, as a band and you personally, you have built a special relationship with the Greek public, an almost metaphysical bond. What made this connection so strong?

Really, I have no idea. But I remember the first time we played as Madrugada in Athens, around 2000, it felt like coming to our natural home. From the first moment, the Greek public treated us with respect as artists, and I appreciate that immensely. This appreciation was just what we needed to feel seen. The Greeks understood our music and connected with our darker and more atmospheric side. We felt we were valued for what we stood for. In each new tour of the band, but also in each one of mine for my personal work, the stop in Greece became a priority, to repay the love we felt from the first moment. So I have no idea why, but I do know that the feeling is mutual, as in any healthy relationship.

What makes you most angry or worried about our world today?

I don’t get angry or upset about anything, but more and more things worry me, especially now that I have children. What worries me most is the sense of lack of optimism. The absence of optimistic thoughts has permeated our collective culture. When I was a teenager, at the time of the fall of the Berlin Wall, despite the adversity and social unrest, there was a climate of optimism for the future. A feeling that better days for everyone are possible. That era is gone forever, and this climate of optimism has never returned since. I don’t feel that the things that are being done today are somehow pushing society forward. But I try to devote myself to my music and I am comforted by the thought that even today music remains a powerful universal language. Music is my personal link to anything upbeat and positive.

And what makes you optimistic?

Meeting people on my tours and looking them in the eye. When you see the world through the Internet, everything seems strange and extreme. Politics in particular tends to become more and more absurd these days. But when I travel to play live, I remember that people are still people. I thus remind myself that the human experience remains the same as it always has been, and that somehow reassures me.