I’d rather talk about feelings than politics

She admits to being very shy, but she doesn’t hide or stay quiet. The indie princess of melancholy lyrics is back, this time with a more pop, more luminous record. By Gorka Goenaga / Photos: Antón Goiri

Some people have a special aura without even knowing it. That’s the case with this 27-year-old singer-songwriter from Málaga, already three albums into her career and completely unaware of her own magnetism. In person, Anni B Sweet is a frank, disarmingly simple young woman with little room for vanity: when she arrives for the interview, she’s barely wearing any make-up beyond a touch of Egyptian-style eyeliner, and comes across like some kind of laid-back vestal. “Look, she’s like an angel!” people reportedly said in the crowd the first time her record label, Subterfuge, saw her play live. It took them the length of that show to sign her.

Ana López — her real name — had barely turned 20 at the time. All she had was a modest demo recorded “in a bathroom”; she had come to Madrid to study Architecture and, purely on the encouragement of her friends, had got into the small circuit of open mics, those little club gigs where anyone hoping to try their luck gets up on stage to play.

But today, seven years on, Anni B Sweet is one of the artists with the brightest future on the national scene. She belongs to that generation of girls who write their own songs and sing in English, alongside names like Russian Red or Alondra Bentley. Of all of them, Anni B Sweet is the one most favoured by specialist critics, who fell for her freshness and the quality of her work from the very start: melodic indie pop with folk touches, with plenty of room for emotion.

Her influences? She tends to cite Bob Dylan, the Beatles, Fiona Apple, Sigur Rós, Nick Drake, Joan Baez and Cecilia as her points of reference. In 2009 came her first record, Start, Restart, Undo, which included the cover of Take on Me (by A-ha) used in McDonald’s advertising. Two years later, it had been released in France and she was already touring internationally: Switzerland, Mexico, Germany, Japan. In 2012 came her second album, Oh, Monsters!, devoted to her innermost fears and arguably her most experimental record. Now she’s releasing her third, Chasing Illusions, sticking to the melodic, introspective streak that’s part of her artistic DNA, but with more of a pop feel. It’s her coming-of-age record, and confirmation that Anni has made a journey toward a brighter, more optimistic side of life.

“Time is a mystery, it’s not linear but emotional, and I try to catch hold of it.”

Mujerhoy. With three albums behind you, are you still the same girl you were at the start?

Anni B. Sweet. There has been a change. The only thing that stays the same is the excitement. Because you never know how things will turn out, and everything in life is a mystery. But now I’m much more… professional? I’m realising just how much I still have to learn. I also know how far I can go, and what I’m doing. I’m more aware.

How did Chasing Illusions come about, and why that title in particular?

Anni B. Sweet. I thought it summed up something I believe we all feel. Our day to day is “chasing illusions.” Human beings are never satisfied: as soon as you get one thing, you want something more, or something different.

The album is less experimental than your previous ones, more pop.

Anni B. Sweet. Yes, because we’ve brought in synthesisers, and it really is quite different from the previous record, Oh, Monsters!, which had songs with more atmosphere that played with other styles, including disco and electronic music. This one is more about songs that are complete in themselves. But I wrote them just as they came: the moment I was composing them, they already had this personality. It was strange. I don’t really overthink things much; I work in a very intuitive way.

Your albums don’t talk so much about the present as about each of the individual moments we live through. What is it about those moments — which we enjoy but also lose — that obsesses you?

Anni B. Sweet. I think it’s tremendously important that we’re aware of how we feel. Minute by minute. We often let beautiful things slip by, and later, with time, we remember them with a certain bitterness. It’s true that I try to capture very specific moments. To me, writing songs is like keeping a private diary. I like this idea of catching hold of time.

Why?

Anni B. Sweet. Because time is something I don’t control, and I like to control everything. It bothers me when it slips through my hands; I can’t do what I want with it. Time is also a mystery: it isn’t measured clearly, it doesn’t work in a linear way, as it seems to, but in a very emotional one. And everything mysterious draws me in powerfully.

That mystery comes through in your songs. We never quite know what’s happening: everything moves in lyrical ambiguity…

Anni B. Sweet. Yes, I leave everything a little up in the air. It has a lot to do with the fact that I’m so insecure. It’s hard for me to argue for one single, absolute reason behind the songs I write about. I believe in leaving those windows open: the possibility that we could be talking about a thousand things at once, because underneath there’s a feeling that’s probably shared.

You describe yourself as insecure. So how do you manage to get up and play in front of thousands of people?

Anni B. Sweet. I don’t know. Before I go on stage I do nothing but question myself. It wasn’t like that before: everything used to be more spontaneous and wild. I’ve probably become a much more self-critical woman. I’m hard on myself, but I know myself better now.

Do you have a sense of who your audience is?

Anni B. Sweet. I see faces, but it’s all a bit blurry. The internet has blurred the boundaries and lets me reach a really diverse audience. Some people listen to me, and some listen to Rihanna: variety is what makes it interesting.

When you started out, were you aware of how the music industry worked?

Anni B. Sweet. I wasn’t. It happened bit by bit. Madrid feels like a magical place to me: things I never thought would happen to me — interviews, photo shoots — came true. I never had any kind of strategy.

Did someone push you into it? I’ve always thought this was a vocation for you.

Anni B. Sweet. Yes, it was. I’ve always written and composed because I love it. My brothers used to play a lot of music at home, and my father gave me my first guitar.

Writing, playing, performing… which part of your work do you enjoy most?

Anni B. Sweet. The songwriting process, when it comes together well, although performing live during a tour, once I’ve relaxed into it, is an incomparable feeling.

Can you be a singer-songwriter today without an obvious political message?

Anni B. Sweet. Honestly, I’d rather talk about feelings than politics. I can’t do it any other way. I can do it in private… but frankly, I don’t understand why the things that happen in this country happen.

And what issues concern you?

Anni B. Sweet. It frustrates me that we only give things importance when they’re in the news, and then forget about them. Campaigns like “Je suis Charlie”, “Bring back our girls” or the ice-bucket challenge… all our energy goes into the empty gesture. Everything seems like a pose.

“You back a cause and then forget about it: all our energy goes into empty gestures.”

Very personal

The first song she ever wrote “was about a castle up in the mountains”, but the naïve image ended up turning into a mirage: “I later found out it was actually a signal tower.” Her real name is Ana López: “Anni B Sweet means Ana, be sweet. I was inspired by the song Johnny B. Goode, but it’s also ironic, because my lyrics aren’t nearly as sweet as my voice.”

Source: Mujerhoy nº 831, 14 March 2015. Text: Gorka Goenaga. Photos: Antón Goiri.