Andrea Schroeder
Where the Wild Oceans End

Those who spend a lot of time with music often come across "unplanned" artists and albums, which they approach out of simple curiosity and with which, by pure magic, they fall in love. That's what happened with "Where the Wild Oceans End" by Andrea Schroeder, ciofane poetessa e cantante tetesca di Cemmania, who has reached her second album after debuting with “Blackbird” in 2012: far from representing the typical mordi-e-fuggi listen, soon left to the mercy of the unkind action of dust once the propulsive force of curiosity is exhausted, this new work asserts itself with great authority in the current panorama, ranking with dignity among the most interesting novelties of the year 2014. 

Go ahead and bring up all the damsels that have emerged in the last ten years, those who shone for a moment then extinguished in the blink of an eye, and those who have already secured a little spot in music history: Andrea Schroeder beats them all. She, her voice, her music, possess a magnetism that I personally have not encountered among the medley of "female" voices I’ve come across in recent years.

This exceptional girl, without fuss, without virtuosity or extremism or innovative formulas, crafts a mature work that ends up shining for its content (for the songs), even before the atmosphere, the mood, the attitude (which are not lacking), or its positioning (with or without a label) in the current music market. This is singer-songwriter music, cultured and refined, this is rock, yes painful, severe, but also energetic, impetuous, wild.

The atmosphere enveloping "Where the Wild Oceans End" is tense and yet impregnated with romanticism, ending up embracing all those nuances that belong to the complexity of a "place" dense with political and social fractures, with a unique history, such as Berlin (the city that inspires the album): Berlin of the ruins and reconstruction, the smoky and nocturnal Berlin of the clubs, of the noir cabaret of Lili Marleen, Marlene Dietrich, and Veronika Voss, but also the lush and vital one of the avant-gardes. “Where the Wild Oceans End” is, therefore, a series of black and white photographs, faded snapshots that evoke nostalgia, generate conflicting feelings, a record from another time, we could say, that, beyond a clear production and, despite the minimalism of the sounds, decidedly curated, could also have been released in the latter half of the seventies decade.

Andrea's voice (also on harmonium, oddly enough just like the mythical Nico, with whom she shares more than one common point) is the dark ferryman guiding us on this journey through time, consisting of ten songs (not even too long, given that the entire work lasts only forty-two minutes), whose quality level ranges between good and excellent. Also complicit in the perfect harmony and cohesion created with the rest of the band members, particularly with the pair Jesper Lehmkuhl/Chris Eckman: the first a guitarist and co-author, together with Schroeder, of the music, and the second a keyboardist and producer, both confirmed from the previous album, according to the rule “winning team doesn't change!” Added to this, are the fundamental contributions of Dave Allen (bass), Chris Hughes (drums), and especially the excellent Catherine Graindorge, divided between viola and violin, capable of restless caresses worthy of John Cale, as well as ruinous and impetuous duels with the guitar, close to a Warren Ellis in front of the Ink King.

The joint effort of these musicians leads to varied compositions rich in nuances, but converging in a single sound flow, upheld by a solid electro-acoustic backbone, where the exceptional interpretation of Schroeder and the work on the six strings of the eclectic Lehmkuhl are the undisputed protagonists. All the tracks are worthy, which is why I prefer to dwell on the most significant ones. The opener "Dead Man’s Eyes," for instance, in its slow and hypnotic proceedings, is already capable of highlighting the singer’s charisma, whose singing imposes itself in all its authority, in all its splendor: a vibrant, sensual voice, but also strong, imperious, which we would hardly associate with the angelic face on the cover. The subsequent "Ghosts of Berlin" and "Until the End" act as perfect counter-altars, being poignant ballads that we might associate with Leonard Cohen's poetic universe. “The Spider,” on the same wavelength as the first track, takes us back to the rarefied atmospheres of a dark ceremony, destabilized by the thrill of the percussion, and the sliding guitar feedback that soils it until it takes on threatening tones. A special mention goes to the title-track, powerful in its final crescendo which culminates in an explosion where the voice makes its way through the impetuous notes and tames the furious refrains of the guitars mixed with the violin, halfway between the most apocalyptic Cave and a certain typically nineties post-rock. Not to mention the cursed blues of "Rattlesnake," a majestic and slow Sabbathian ride, entirely entrusted to the electric guitars.

There’s a lot of Lou Reed in Schroeder's voice, although her music only at times adopts the acidic tones of the Velvet Underground and their morbid settings, preferring to position itself midway between the passionate folk of the aforementioned Leonard Cohen, the streaming of consciousness of the divine Patti Smith and the dark rituals of the priestess Nico. And speaking of influences, Helden is among the other tracks, the cover of "Heroes" (sung in German), which however seems to mainly constitute a tribute to the studios where the album was recorded, those legendary Hansa Studios where “Heroes” itself took shape and life in 1977. While in most cases it is a great and pointless risk to confront iconic tracks that have marked music history, it must be said that Schroeder comes out victorious: although she doesn’t reach the heights achieved by her mentor Nico with the rendition of the classic "The End," not only does she not make a mess of it, but she adds a coherent piece to the concept underlying the album, without breaking its atmosphere.

In short, I’d say the menu overall is definitely appealing: it's clear the future of music doesn’t pass through here, but "Where the Wild Oceans End," taken by itself, is truly an excellent work and if it doesn’t deserve top marks, it’s only because it merely re-proposes existing stylemes that have been abundantly reinterpreted over the years. But this act of appropriation is perpetrated by Andrea Schroeder in a special way: with elegance, honesty, coherence, and also personality, thus not irritating or inciting pitiless comparisons. And essentially overturning in one fell swoop (an angel with claws is Schroeder) all her colleagues who more or less recently have appeared on the rose-tinted rock firmament. Listen to believe.