About Me
Thirteens is the name of singer/songwriter Leona Naess's fourth album. But in many ways it feels like her first. Lyrical and emotional, delicate and determined, it's the sound of an artist coming of age and coming into her own. Recorded all over the world with no schedule and no rules, Thirteens is a remarkably cohesive statement; an album inspired by endings and leavings that sounds utterly present and alive. "I was an angst-ridden girl on my other records," Leona says with trademark bluntness. "I'm more like a woman on this one."
All of this remarkable growth came at a heavy cost, however. Since the release of Leona's last album, 2003's rapturous Leona Naess, she has parted ways with her label, ended a serious relationship, turned 30, and worst of all, lost her beloved father, the Norwegian mountaineer and businessman, Arne Naess. With music the farthest thing from her mind, Leona checked out from the world for a time. "I severed ties with everyone in my working life," she says. "I cleaned house and kind of wanted to stop making music. But I was still in love with making music. And the next thing I knew, these songs started coming."
Thirteens draws loosely from country, jazz, folk, and pop; its sound is instantly familiar and wildly intimate. The album's first song, "Not the
Same Girl", was, aptly enough, the first one written and in many ways inspired the twelve that would follow. Despite its severe refrain ("I'm not the same girl / who writes loves songs / and believes them") the music is gentle and lilting, the inflection soft. "I didn't want to be cynical," Leona says. "It's a reaction to the stuff that was going on at that time in my life but I didn't want to make a depressed record. It's supposed to be uplifting while being honest about the pain." "Ghosts in the Attic", is similarly brave-faced and tender, dealing directly with the largest absence in Leona's life, her father, without flinching. "I'm not a religious person by any means," she explains, "but that song came out of a dream I had about my dad and to this day I'm completely convinced that it was him in my dream. I needed to believe that it was. And so that's a song that's definitely very close to my heart. Once I wrote it I said 'oooh, we're onto something.'"
While ghosts and dreams haunt the thirteen songs, the bulk of them deal with the concerns of the living and the awake; specifically, the universal push-pull of becoming an adult and wanting to stay young forever. "Train Song" spies on the bustling world of commuters, feeling the human heart beating beneath the mechanical walls of a subway, and "all that's passing" the narrator by: weddings, children, responsibilities and all the other trappings of a predictable life. Conversely, "Leave Your Boyfriend Behind" is an irresistibly irresponsible night out that revels in its gleeful immaturity, dancing and drinking forever-or at least until the end of this song.
"I'm still completely struggling with feeling like I have to be an adult", Leona admits. "Like everybody our age, I see a baby and want one and then think, 'fuck! Thank God I dont!' I want to be a kid forever." She sighs. "I'm just completely confused about my role in the world and I think the record reflects that."
In direct contrast to her previous albums, Leona constructed Thirteens piece-by-piece with no pressure and no plan. After amassing a handful of these loose sketches at home in London, she began spending afternoons with multi-instrumentalist and producer, Sam Dixon, jamming and recording bits and pieces onto his laptop. "We did everything raw," Leona remembers. "Every song is the first vocal take. In the past, I'd do all these demos and then get a producer and make it more like a record, she laughs. This time we kept all the original versions and slowly brought in people that would do things as favors." And, slowly but surely, these simple songs travelled the world and were assembled, bit by bit, favor by favor.
When strings were needed, Dixon and Leona flew to her native Norway, stayed with family, and recorded in a church hall. Drums came from Dixon's best friend in Australia who received the songs as mp3s, then played along and emailed them back. The sensual, hypnotic, "Swing Gently", was born in Sweden with the help of producer, Nathan Larson. Old East Village comrade, Ryan Adams, crashed a Manhattan studio and contributed his distinctive vocals (and new lyrics) to the reprise of "Leave Your Boyfriend" in one take. Cello and piano were added in Woodstock over a long weekend. "We just tried to be very clever about how to make this record," Leona says. "We brought Sams computer with us around the world and collected sounds, musicians, and ideas. Somehow, over the course of two years, it all came together."
Since her debut, 2000's Comatised, critics have hailed Leona's voice as one of the most unique and lovely in contemporary pop: smoky and sobering, guileless and wise. Thirteens finds that voice at its best, weathered by traumas and thirsty for new experience. On the sultry, finger-picked, "Used to Be Afraid", Leona unspools a long laundry list of fears lines on her face; the end of affairs before settling on a simple refrain: "but it's all right / we've got to make it through tonight." A far cry from the romantic musings of her earlier albums and a perfect summation of who she is today, as a woman and as an artist. "I was 22 when I signed my first record deal," Leona says. "I've changed a lot! And my music has changed with me." Luckily for us, we have Thirteens as gorgeous proof.
written by Andy Greenwald
