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02/07/2003 - CONTINENTAL POST-FOLK: KEVIN JOHANSEN |
Kevin Johansen, as you can probably guess from his name, is an Argentine, born in Alaska. Through bouncy, whimsical and mixtured music that go all the way from cumbias and huaynos to hip-hop and bossa nova and a wide variety of accents – from the “Anglotourist” trying to speak some Spanish to the new arrivals into the English language concocting a vocabulary of their own – “The Nada” has established Johansen as the new cult-postmodern-folk-musician of his generation. This hybridity means that everybody will get some and will lose some while keeping time with their feet as they listen to Johansen’s music. For Johansen, “mixture is the future” but it is also the home he inhabits.
From its title, “The Nada” puts the listener in a place of confusion and ambiguity. Depending on the listener’s linguistic proficiency, “The Nada” could signify “Nothing” – if his expertise lays with English – or “You’re welcome” – if the listener’s ear is fluent in Spanish. Of course, there is also the possibility of staying with Johansen, at the borderline of languages and allusion, in which case the title of the CD will signify both things at once and alternatively. This location is not without problems, because it invites not only recognition but also alienation. Johansen’s choice of mixing language is not a calculated decision in order to reach a more diverse audience. Rather, he allows his audience to experience how he has been crossed over both by culture and language.
Two songs in "The Nada” epitomize the underlying tension in the narrative voice. “Guacamole” appears to be a listing of different “typical” foods, but a closer examination shows us that the list is neither typical nor merely a digestive track. Some of the food listings are incongruous, some inedible and some linguistic puns that are available only to an audience with enough practice at crossing borders or establishing themselves within that borderline territory.
The other song is “Campo Argentino” where the same – but are they really the same? – lines are repeated three times, in Spanish, English and French. The lines – “What do you want?” and “I don’t know” – are equivalent in the three languages, but not identical. It adds to the confusion that they are then repeated backwards changing not only direction, but also meaning. And again, these meanings vary depending on the linguistic expertise of the listener. The song is all there, but not all there is, is contained within the song. As he listens, the listener chooses the path to a specific – divergent – understanding of the lyrics. To help matters, “Campo Argentino” uses a very traditional argentine folk form: “malambo.” However, as with the lyrics, this malambo is hybridized by country music and French chansons.
Johansen’s second CD “Sur o no Sur” released in 2002, is a further exploration of the same issues of linguistic and cultural dis-placement and re-placement. It’s title is a homophonic take on the Spanish translation of Shakespeare’s Hamlet’s most famous line: “To be or not to be” = “Ser o no ser” but in this case “South or not South” which is more than just a gentle reminder of the dilemma facing many Argentines, that of emigrating in search of a “better” life. Johansen suggests that there are no clear-cut options, that both staying and going imply displacement and that belonging to one place is much more – and less – than a geographical accident limited by language and a common history.
“Sur o no Sur” deepens Johansen’s work with both language and musical forms, creating hybrids of his own, as is the case of “Puerto Madero,” a wry observation of the tourists visiting Buenos Aires; the title song of the album, defined as “popklore” or “Down with my baby” that Johansen describes as “Barry White meets Nirvana.” It does, after all make sense that Johansen is so concerned with (musical) language. Son to a US father and an Argentine mother he spent most of his childhood traveling around the States and his adolescence between Montevideo, Uruguay, and Buenos Aires, Argentina. He was half of a folk-pop band “Instrucción Cívica” with Axel Krygier until, on turning twenty-five he returned to the U.S. and established himself in New York for about ten years. Then he returned to Buenos Aires with the master copy of his first solo CD “The Nada” which he recorded at CBGB in 2001.
The issue of musical location Johansen presents to his listeners is not a heavy burden. On the contrary, Johansen’s music is intelligent, humorous, and sensitive – a delight to ears, feet and brains and a warm refuge at a time of loud barkings by the dogs of war.
By Carlos Schroder
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