It’s heading for midday in an east London vintage store and Norwegian singer Dagny is brandishing a bright purple, preposterously shoulder-padded 80s jumpsuit one would only realistically consider wearing in anticipation of being belted by Joan Collins. Hanging up are a number of rejected items ranging from a sparkly skirt to an oversized boiler suit. Dagny has tried on a lot of clothes this morning, and she’s not happy with any of them. Suddenly, she picks up a black and white-striped jumpsuit. “This looks sick,” she declares. “This is seriously cool.”
Hell isn’t other people, but it might be shopping with them. Sadly, this morning’s expedition is entirely my own fault: the consequence of not learning my lesson many years ago when a throwaway comment in a magazine editorial meeting resulted in indie act the Llama Farmers being sent to an actual llama farm. Today’s scenario is the result of having thrown a cheery “I’ll do it!” into an email chain about Dagny’s styling requirements — a joke that was swiftly green-lit, then insisted upon, by all parties – and brings us this morning to Dalstonised “vintage” emporium Beyond Retro. The awkwardness of the scenario is reduced slightly by the fact that Dagny’s on stage in London tonight and needs a new outfit anyway, so at the very least this represents good time management on her part.
Twelve months ago, Dagny’s understated but instantly absorbing single Backbeat hinted at the arrival of one of pop’s brightest new hopes; her career was kickstarted by unexpected coverage from Apple Music’s Beats 1 station, then rocketed thanks to blanket support from Spotify, where current stats indicate over 1.5m monthly listeners. Her current EP, Ultraviolet, seals the deal: it’s an exuberant but pensive riot of pounding drums, live instrumentation and just enough electronic flourishes to give it a modern edge, combined with some truly extraordinary songwriting. “There’s a real art to making a good pop song,” Dagny decides as she examines an unwise purple basque. “People underestimate it: a good pop song can be fucking tricky.”
Getting those good pop songs heard can be equally tricky for some artists, and for some years Dagny was experiencing only modest success. Having flitted between a number of jobs — in a clothes shop, a wine bar and an elderly home — she came to London four and a half years ago to work on her music, and made waves back home in Norway with a series of low-key tours. But by summer 2015 she was growing despondent, and began applying for places at university near her home town of Tromsø, northern Norway.
In contrast with many musicians’ stories it was Dagny’s parents, both jazz musicians, who talked her out of it. “I asked my dad recently, do you ever get worried about my future?” Dagny smiles. “He said, ‘No, I never worry about you. I don’t think there’s one route for everybody.’”
Last summer she also recorded Backbeat and, having been convinced to continue her music, planned to release it this February. Then on a Friday afternoon last September, Dagny’s manager received a call containing the phrase “Zane Lowe wants to premiere your track on Wednesday”. The song wasn’t even finished, but it was an opportunity too good to turn down. Dagny was in the studio on the day in question, so her manager and sister came over to listen to the song’s first play. They opened some beers and a bottle of Prosecco. “We sat down and we waited,” Dagny recalls. “The song started, and it was like, ‘Whoa.’” When the song finished, silence descended. “We just sat there and we looked at each other. And then I said: what happens now?”
What in fact happened was that Spotify supported the track across its New Music Friday playlists and three days later the song — which aired on Beats 1 in an unmastered state — had over 300,000 Spotify plays. “And then,” Dagny adds, “the emails started coming.” One of those emails led to a deal in the US with Republic Records, while Island picked her up in the UK.
But the what-happens-now conundrum is not one Dagny takes lightly. While we’ve been shopping, Beyond Retro’s in-house sound system has been playing a number of songs by Dagny’s peers; many, like Léon’s Tired of Talking, are by acts well known to music bloggers and Spotify listeners, and who regularly pick up decent streaming numbers and excitable online coverage, but falter when it comes to crossing over. “I have a lot of fears about that,” Dagny nods. “I suppose this is the point where I become an artist.”
She recalls her early attachment to the Spice Girls — a band whose songs she enjoyed, but whose characters brought those songs to life — as an early influence. “I was Mel B when we dressed up as the Spice Girls,” she adds. “My sister was Emma. Everyone wanted to not be Victoria.”
In any case, artistry seems to be no problem for Dagny: her emotive lyrics offer a strong sense of what it’s like to be 26 in 2016, and there’s a lyrical theme in many of her songs — like Too Young, with its “we’re too young to feel this old” refrain — that capture what it’s like to celebrate the twilight of one’s youth as adulthood insists on taking hold. She laughs when I suggest her music carries a sense of impending doom, and says she prefers to think of the tone as “pleasant melancholia”. “The first time that feeling hit me was when I was 11,” she continues. “From a very young age I had big thoughts about the kinds of things other people my age didn’t seem to be thinking about.”
When I ask what sort of topics were on her mind, she pauses. “Honestly? Death. My brother got cancer when he was very young; he was 15 and I was nine, and it naturally became a big part of my life. The contrast with that is now, I feel in some ways as if I age much slower than I should – I’m 26 and maybe I should be settled in my life but I’m not at all. I constantly have a feeling that I should have come further than I have, based on how old I am. People back home are settling into their big things, and I’m just getting started. Maybe that’s just going to be how I am forever: very aware about time. That’s my crisis.”
Support from big-hitters has diminished that crisis somewhat. Dagny responds with a diplomatic “that’s a good question” when asked if Spotify has replaced traditional radio, though she does add that it was traditional radio in Norway that made Backbeat a hit on home territory. “Quite frankly,” she offers, “I don’t think there are any rules in music any more, but you still have to go out and work for success. ”
That’s unlikely to be a problem for the foreseeable future: beyond tonight’s live show, at which she’s decided she’ll be wearing a silver choker purchased with 20 quid of the Guardian’s money, there’s a debut album to record. “I know that nothing is going to happen by itself,” Dagny smiles. “And I think that’s quite nice. Working is fun. I feel meaningless if I don’t do anything.”
Comments (…)
Sign in or create your Guardian account to join the discussion