Björkabout

Interview by Graham Reid

Picture links...

Photography by Tony Mott

Björkabout

The Big Day Out-the

Antipodean zinc-cream-

lipped bastard son of

Glastonbury and Lolla-

palooza - has just survived a

cyclone, and Björk has just en-

dured, and enjoyed, an earth-

quake. The earth is moving and

Iceland's queen of blue-eyed pop

is having a good time.

  A series of six concerts that

rolls across New Zealand and

Australia, The Big Day Out was

launched in January 1992 as a

one-dayer in Sydney with Nirvana

top of the bill. This year, more

than 30 acts - including The Ram-

ones, Smashing Pumpkins, Sound-

garden, Urge Overkill and Björk -

are hanging out Down Under.

  A few days ago, a cyclone

scoured Brisbane on the day of the

show there, nearly levelling the

venue. But organiser Ken West is

unfazed - today's Melbourne date

is coming together at a 20,000-

capacity racetrack, and there is no

wind, hail or snow forecast. He's

determined that the ever-expand-

ing show should be fun for the

slightly left-field line-up, which

includes local acts.

  "We knocked Morrissey out,"

explains his partner Vivian Lees

with typical Antipodean irony,

"because he would've been a

miserable bastard."

  Meanwhile, on the 16th floor

of Melbourne's Bryson Hotel,

Björk is taking in the view of the

city and the parched landscape

beyond. She's due on-stage in five

hours, but right now she's recall-

ing what happened two nights be-

fore in Brisbane.

  "It's strange," she says in a

chirruping voice that slides be-

tween London and the burring

brogue of her homeland. "While

we were playing, the crowd was

just standing with their mouths

open... we thought nobody liked

us. So we thought 'Oh fuck'em...'

and we just had fun. We are a bit

strange on this bill. It's 12 hours

of Grunge, and we're like the pink

dot in the middle of all these noisy

rock guitars."

  She shrugs and smiles. A few days before flying

into cyclone-torn Brisbane, she'd been in Los

Angeles - just in time for the big quake. "It was bril·

liant," she says, jumping up from her seat.

  "I always thought it would be a really nervous

thing! But it was this really deep, big bass in your guts.

I thought: `Yes! This is what I've wanted to feel ever

since I was born!' It's funny, it's like your body is

thirsty for it and it satisfies you in a strange way"

  People are telling her she could tour on the back

of her Debut album for the next two years, but she

can't be bothered. She's still reluctant to go ahead

with a remix album of Debut (it was originally

scheduled for Christmas), and would much rather do

another album than extend her tour.

  "I love singing live, that's the ultimate... but you

sing one hour and you have to hang around two or

three days to do it. Then you come off a three-month

tour and realise you've spent all that time for maybe

having done 30 hours of singing."

  Although her son Sindri is now at school in Lon-

don, and no longer travels with her, Björk's offstage

behaviour has been more controlled than usual.

  "Touring gives you the freedom to go to extremes.

Sometimes you have tours where you're just drunk

the whole time, and you keep really high because

you don't eat and you just go to clubs and meet lots

of unhealthy people. Then you get a natural high for

the next tour and eat lots of celery, and for the next

you only listen to jazz.

  "Last time, because it was Europe and I know a lot

of people, I was getting drunk a lot," she explains. "On

this tour, though, I'm leading a very different life. I

know fewer people, so I get up

early, run into the ocean and

read a lot of books.

  "Because I've been touring

for years I can go to 20 gay

clubs in 20 different cities, but

for the first two years I was

completely disorientated and

I'd have to sit in a chair, eat a

lot of bread and cheese and

say: 'OK, you're in London,

your name is Björk, you come

from Iceland,' and keep myself

on the ground like that."

  Touring with her son also

helped Björk to maintain an

essential level-headed perspec-

tive on the world.

  "For the first five years I

toured with my kid. That

was brilliant, because we were

just looking for waterslide

parks. I became an expert on

those things... where to find

nappies in various cities around

the world! I could write a book

on where to find second-hand

baby clothes."

  The singer sips her lemon-

ade and stretches in the

sunlight. Japan lies ahead

("they look after you very well

and work you very hard! Four-

teen interviews a day," she

laughs), but first she needs to

buy some books and find out

where in Australia Yolumba is,

as it's the home of a character in one of Sindri's books.

Oh, and she has to appear at the Big Day Out in about

five hours' time...

  The sun dips below the horizon as The Ramones

belt out their final "Gabba Gabba Hey", and Björk

comes on-stage in a full-length, clinging dress as the

moon starts to appear white in the sky. The audience,

which had been baying for 'I Wanna Be Sedated'

just minutes before, is suddenly lured into clubland

by a visceral 'There's More To Life Than This' deliv-

ered with fat-bottom bass, and the hipsway of 'Big

Time Sensuality'.

  With the seven-piece band keeping a discreet

profile, Björk sets the crowd alight with some crazed,

dervish dancing. 'Human Behaviour' is guttural, then

'Venus As A Boy' leads the audience into a brace of

ballads, which invest The Big Day Out with its most

enchanting moments.