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Kings of Convenience: still quiet, still
gentle
Interview 2004-09-01
The hushed duo from
Norway tip the hat to Simon & Garfunkel, and examines the dynamics
of Lennon and McCartney
On
"Homesick," the beguiling opener to the new Riot on an Empty Street,
Kings of Convenience are lost in music: "I can't stop listening to the
sound/ Of two soft voices," Erlend Oye and Erik Glambek Boe harmonize
in a hush, "rendered in perfection / From the reels of this record that
I found." The guys could be referring to themselves. But Boe, the one
without the glasses, says they had a different acoustic duo in mind.
"We
got so used to being compared to Simon & Garfunkel that we thought,
'What the hell. Let's just make a song that's more or less a tribute to
them," Boe reveals on the phone from his London hotel room. The Kings'
have a penchant for wistful guitar strumming, and their gentle vocals
are entwined with a perfect symmetry. It's easy to see where the
S&G charge comes from.
"We never intended to sound like
them," explains the 28-year-old. "But that's how our voices sound
together and there is nothing we can do about it."
Riot on an
Empty Street certainly goes a long way to changing perceptions. The
Norse twosome's 2001 album Quiet is the New Loud sparked a
mini-movement of acts like Badly Drawn Boy and Turin Brakes. The
long-awaited follow-up broadens the template from their mix of two
guitars and featherweight vocals. While never less than soothing
listening, "Misread" is ethereal "yeh yeh" pop and the single "I'd
Rather Dance With You's" is like Ikea disco.
It's their most
fully realized album to date, which is all the stranger considering no
one expected them to make it. After they had finished touring Quiet,
Oye moved from Norway to Berlin and released a solo album. Boe enrolled
at Bergen's university and spent months recuperating after collapsing
in his gym. But he says most of the last three years were dedicated to
crafting Riot.
"We took a break from the professional part of
our collaboration, but the artistic side never stopped [moving
foreward]" Boe says. "We've been meeting each other all along."
They
write all the songs together, but it's far from a painless process.
"Our collaboration begins with the arguments," Boe laughs. "That's one
of the great things about our project. We criticize each other so
heavily that when you finally manage to convince the other person of
your idea, it has to be a good one."
"The everyday life of
Kings of Convenience is disagreeing," he continues. "One person writes
one verse, the other one writes a completing verse; then we meet and
try to decide whose verse is the best."
Oye has gone so far to
say that his friend is Lennon to his McCartney, which Boe can only
explain by suggesting that he's the more political of the two. "But the
politics doesn't come through in the music," he confesses. "It's a
political statement to not be political these days."
There are
other differences. Oye has gained repute as a DJ, with a DJ Kicks comp
to his name. Boe moonlights in a Bergen rock band. And while the
six-foot Oye plays up being the pop star, his quieter contemporary
prefers to hit the books, researching his thesis on architecture and
psychology. "I prefer Jung to Freud," he says. "He's one of the few
psychologists who had a spiritual dimension."
Boe also
concedes that Oye is more likely to hit the dancefloor, as "I'd Rather
Dance With You" implies. "I like to sit and talk to the girls," he
laughs. "I know the tricks."
Tricks?
"The most
important trick is to be politely interested but never let a woman know
your intentions," the mild-mannered roué says, brightening with
enthusiasm. "This is something I learned from my grandmother. She said,
'If you are after a woman's heart, never let her know that you are
after her.' But there is a very fine line between making yourself known
and making your intentions known."
And there's the beauty of Kings of Convenience for you. Craftily slip
slidin' their way into your heart.
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