Your debut album, Big Science (1982), opens with: “Good evening, this is your captain, we are about to attempt a crash landing”, while your latest album, Amelia (2024), chronicles Amelia Earhart’s tragic final flight. Do you find yourself drawn to the wonder of aviation and its inherent risks? VerulamiumParkRanger
Not only aviation, but shipping, because I did [Songs and Stories from] Moby Dick about a big ship that went under. I guess I like sinking ships and crazy captains. I’ve done three versions of Amelia that are very distant cousins. The first version, at Carnegie Hall in 2000, was a cacophony, probably the worst thing I’ve ever heard from an orchestra! A few years later Dennis [Russell Davies, conductor] said there were some really beautiful melodies in there, so we made an arrangement for the Stuttgart Chamber Orchestra and toured Europe. It sounded really pretty. Then we recorded the new version remotely during the pandemic, with his [Czech orchestra] Filharmonie Brno.
I fell in love with Amelia’s story at the beginning, but by then had narrowed it down to her last flight. She wrote telegrams to her husband, who was also her press agent, and loved to tell the world where she was. She was the original blogger. She was very connected to her public, especially women. She’d go: “Ladies, you’re in your kitchen and I’m in my cockpit at 10,000 feet.” The thing that made me really want to write about her is that she said that if she made it through that last flight she wanted a workshop for girls to do woodworking, engines, metal. In the 1930s, women did cooking and cleaning. Fast forward 87 years and how many women are in engineering and so on? Not enough. I look at the pop world and think: “Why aren’t more people writing about that?”
As an experimental musician, what was your reaction to O Superman’s commercial “success”? eternalsceptic
I was and probably still am a snob. I didn’t know what charts were. I was in this art scene where we thought what we were doing was the most important thing ever. We were jerks. But when O Superman was successful, I was happy that people heard it. When I hear it now, it still sounds strange and I like that. Recently it went viral on TikTok. They used the “You don’t know me, but I know you” line to send hundreds of thousands of little messages. These 12- and 13-year-old kids totally got what the song is about. It tapped into the zeitgeist again, which makes me very happy.
With the creation of an AI chatbot of Lou Reed [Anderson’s late husband], how do you think technology is shaping the way we interact with those we’ve lost? Is this perhaps even a new dimension of the afterlife? NenadGeorgievski
No. I mean, people might have black-and-white photographs of their grandparents or even a VR representation, but nothing can capture these people. They’re dead. I like what the Dalai Lama said about an artificial flower being as good as a real flower, because it reminds you of the real one. I’ve done versions of Lou’s voice and Lou’s writing made from [AI] trained on his work. It’s not Lou but it reminds me of Lou. It’s about the reminding of how you feel about that person.
Is there anything creatively you wished you had done with Lou that you never managed to? GonzoGCB
Oh, we were going to do so many different projects. Lou was always saying: “What are we going to do when people don’t want to see us any more?” He had this plan to have a bar somewhere out west called the L and L Art Ranch, where he could play every day and nobody could kick him off! Because the fun is in the playing. Getting old is an art form and I have learned a lot about it from my dogs, who sit in the porch, let the sun go down and feel it. I’m good at that but I’m also a workaholic, which gives meaning to my life with the people that I love. So I can’t say I regret the things we didn’t do. I’m not nostalgic, but I’m a Swede. We like dark stuff. Gloomy days. Leafless trees. Grey oceans. That’s what I like!
Did you learn anything in particular collaborating with William Burroughs? seineview
The most important thing I learned from him was second person. I did some tours with him, and he was always going [adopts austere Burroughs voice]: “You people. You think that …” He wasn’t talking like a writer does about “I” or an essay about himself. He was talking about “you”, which was very challenging and interesting. He came to clubs because he loved reading and the audience became “you”. It was a fabulous device which I’d never really thought about, but he taught me how to do it.
Is it true that David Bowie read your mind? axolotly
He actually called me up and said: “I think you can read minds.” I said I couldn’t so he suggested this project where we both concentrated for a minute, made a drawing and then simultaneously faxed it to each other. It sounded like a fun idea but I have to say it was really creepy. What are the chances that both drawings would have a house, something sticking out of the second storey window and a man hanging? The chances are zero. The other things were a box, a spiral, a star … It threw me. He was a wonderful guy. A very, very special person. I just love mysteries.
Given your correspondence with JFK as a young girl, have you written any letters recently? AllyB
I was 12 years old when I wrote to Jack Kennedy, when he was a senator running for president. I wrote: “I’m running for president of my student council. Can I have some tips?” He wrote back a very long and detailed letter, saying: “Whatever students want, promise it.” In other words, don’t be idealistic, find out what they need and be representative. A couple of months later I wrote back saying – God, this is cringey – “I won the election and best wishes in yours.” The next day in Glen Ellyn, Illinois, a telegram and a white box of red roses came to my door. The front page of the Glen Ellyn News was “Local girl receives roses from Senator Kennedy” and every woman and girl in Glen Ellyn fell in love with Jack. He was a romantic and wrote great things about the American concept of beauty. It was really inspirational. I need to find that letter!
You used to work with (and wrestle!) the great Andy Kaufman. Did Andy influence you at all? Willmerr
Andy was a kind of meta comedian I first saw in the late 70s. I went to this bar in Queens, where he was playing bongos and sobbing. The audience were like: “Should we applaud? Should we stop him?” He loved creating these really awkward situations. I said, “This is the greatest thing I’ve ever seen,” and I became his kind of sidekick. I’d go to clubs where he’d pretend to be drinking and doing this macho thing, saying: “I hate women. I’m only going to respect a woman if she comes and wrestles me down.” Which was my cue to wrestle him and he fought – he would slam me down! He’d also do stuff like get strapped into a rollercoaster and say: “I’m really not sure about the safety of this ride.” Then everyone would panic and get off. He would push and push it. He was a rule-breaker. I loved Andy, because rules are ridiculously stiff and he was the opposite.
after newsletter promotion
Tell us about ARK: United States Part 5. Are you pessimistic about America or optimistic? magic-man
It’s a show starting in November about the end of the world and building a 21st-century ark. There are things like countdown clocks to zero and the tipping point where temperature is irreversible. It’s about integration and conflicts. You could be very apocalyptic about all this, but only three weeks ago in the States we were heading towards a dictatorship. Then suddenly it changed and there’s a different kind of energy. I’m an optimist for one single reason: you have a happier life.
I really enjoy your shows for humans but I’ve also been blown away by your concepts for dogs. How do you get them to sing along or stay silent? mrcussen
[Cellist] Yo-Yo Ma and I both had the same fantasy of a concert for dogs, then when I was doing a festival in Sydney I suggested it to the producer. We thought a couple of hundred dogs would show up with their owners. There were thousands, all up the steps of the Sydney Opera House, with five of us playing high-frequency things that we thought they would enjoy. Dogs are not used to going to concerts, so they were all super polite. My favourites were the droolers in the front row. At the end I said: “Dogs, it’s time to howl.” We made some howling sounds and they all started up this heavenly howling. It was one of the best days of my life.
Source: theguardian.com
