It's like learning a new language
Interpol - 'Leif Erikson' (Turn On The Bright Lights - 2002)
Quiz question: What connects Boston, Milwaukee, Chicago, Seattle, Duluth, Newfoundland, Reykjavik, and Trondheim? No surprises, given what this entry is about, for realising that they all have statutes of Norse explorer Leif Erikson.
Erikson is famed for his expeditions to North America centuries before Christopher Columbus and John Cabot landed there in the late fifteenth century. According to The Saga of Erik the Red and the Saga of the Greenlanders, Erikson landed in Vinland - an area of Canada likely to be between Newfoundland and New Brunswick around 1000 AD. The Icelandic Sagas are narratives from the late 9th to early 11th centuries, including the Saga of Erik the Red and the Saga of the Greenlanders, which detail Norse explorations of North America. The former focuses on Leif Erikson’s father, Erik the Red1 and his settlement of Greenland2 and then Leif Erikson's journey to Vinland, emphasising Leif's leadership and the discovery of a resource-rich land. The latter provides a collective account of expeditions to Vinland, detailing interactions with indigenous peoples (Skrælings) and the challenges of establishing a settlement. Together, they offer a comprehensive view of Norse Atlantic adventures, shaped by varying oral traditions and the compilers' objectives.
A thousand years on, the icy vocals of Joy Division's Ian Curtis traversed the Atlantic, finding resonance in the embryonic Interpol as they washed up on the Eastern seaboard, shaping their sombre sound and dark aesthetic in the heart of New York's burgeoning indie scene. At the start of the 2000s, the music industry underwent significant changes with the rise of digital music3, leading to shifts in how music was distributed and consumed. This period saw the emergence of indie and alternative rock bands gaining mainstream attention. Interpol, formed in 1997 in New York City, emerged into this landscape with a fairly distinctive sound that blended post-punk and indie rock. Many bands and artists mine the past for influences, but no one was in that particular quarry at the time. Stepping out into the light into a vortex created by the emergence of The Strokes and The White Stripes the year before, they would be part of a broader, second wave of bands from both North America and The UK who would reflect back the post-punk world of 1978-1981 to new and old audiences as part of a ludicrously named rock revival.
Their debut, Turn on The Bright Lights, set them apart with its dark, broody, and atmospheric instrumentation twinned with Paul Banks' baritone voice. The band's sharp, stylish aesthetic also helped garner attention.
‘Leif Erikson’, the finale of Turn On the Bright Lights, rather than weaving a historical account of the tale of Erikson's expeditions, is a poignant exploration of relationship dynamics and a metaphor for the emotional odyssey within human connections. Banks' lyrics navigate through the stormy seas of love's end or renewal, drawing parallels with Erikson's ventures into the unknown. The track's nautical imagery reflects Interpol's New York City roots and the dual nature of life's voyages—moments of harmony against the backdrop of life's indifferent challenges. As listeners, we can hear the contemplation of love's uncertain journey - where even the best efforts may not steer clear of heartache.
‘Leif Erikson’, alongside its parent album, positioned Interpol at the vanguard of the nascent post-punk movement. The band's sound, characterised by its brooding tonality, intricate guitar interplays, and Paul Banks' distinctive baritone, offered a fresh perspective within the indie and alternative rock panorama. Again, this must seem unbelievable, given within a few years, bands like Editors, She Wants Revenge, The National, White Lies, Savages, Bloc Party, The Killers, Franz Ferdinand and Foals emerged where only Terris had stood before.
Much like the rest of the album, the recording process of ‘Leif Erikson’ was marked by meticulous attention to detail. The band sought to capture an expansive and intimate sound, utilising various recording techniques to achieve a richly layered texture. The song's gradual crescendo, characterised by the interweaving of melodic guitar lines against a backdrop of a steadfast rhythmic section, creates an immersive and evocative ambience. Paul Banks' lyrics, delivered with a compelling mix of detachment and earnestness, weave a cryptic and profoundly emotive narrative, inviting listeners to ascribe their own meanings and experiences to the song. Through this song, Interpol offers us a bridge to the past, a nod to the pioneers of both music and exploration who dared to venture into the unknown.
For those who don’t know, Icelandic surnames are often patronymic or matronymic, meaning they're derived from a parent's first name. For example, a son of Jón might be Jónsson ("Jón's son"), and a daughter might be Jónsdóttir ("Jón's daughter"). This tradition reflects familial ties rather than family names.
Erik the Red named the icy land "Greenland" to attract settlers, a classic case of turn of the millennium spin. Conversely, Iceland, with its green summers, might seem more fittingly named Greenland, highlighting a historical naming irony.
I’m looking forward to reading Eamon Forde’s 1999: The Year The Record Industry Lost Control, which was released this month.
I was somewhat out of music for a few years (1995-2001, give or take a few months); and the only thing I heard that really struck me was Interpol. Didn't so much remind me of Joy Division as they did a darker, more urgent, 'Murmur'-era REM; in a very good way.
Still one of my favourite (New York) albums, although in a similar (contemporary & geographical) vein if you like TotBLs then give the stellastarr* self titled debut a try.