Biography
Once upon a 'great find', an eager Ear wandered aimlessly into a vast Finnish forest of sounds in pursuit of what local lore referred to as the Indica, a mystical coven of 5 shapeshifters who could at odd
intervals transform themselves into sonorous birds, susurrant trees, squelching fungus, or on less talkative days singing rocks.
Though Indica's sound was mildly reminiscent of the Ancient Greek Sirens, as fate would have it, the elderly ladies responsible for marooning many a seafaring vessel, had over the years, lost their charm. And so, they packed their bags, leaving their seductive voices on the Island of Lesbos and relocated to nursing homes in Miami Beach. What a perfect opportunity for Indica, pondered the Ear. 'Not only did
they sound better, and have a more positive attitude, but they were also far more pleasing for the Eye.
No, Indica was not some fly-by-night pop rock group with an ethno-ancient gimmick. They had a contemporary edge. Our loyal Ear knew: Indica was indicative of timeless melodies, inflected by artistic nuance. They possessed a dynamism and theatricality not of this world. In short, the Ear realized that Indica was as unbelievable as the story he himself was presently telling. And so, by 2002, the mystic-romantic pop band of five girls had been signed by the A&R manager for Sony Music.
As composer, lyricist, and lead singer for Indica, Jonsu began her career at the age of 6 by composing her first symphonies. Though admittedly, these early dabbles at masterpieces were only two measures
long, they did garner enough attention to get Jonsu into a Children's String Orchestra where she mastered playing the violin. Reminiscing about what drew her to her first band member, Jonsu trails off, "Well, there was this cellist girl who sat behind me at school and she drew my attention... quite literally, that is, she'd regularly poke me with her bow. Of course, that girl is Heini. She's Indica's bass player."
Though caught between the world of ballet and classical music, it was not long before Sirkku opted for joining up with the band as the keyboard player. Jenny, the guitarist, and Laura, the drummer, would
follow shortly thereafter.
A love of nature, an inclination towards the mythopoetic, and an addiction to music soon ensured that these girls devoted almost all of their time to creating an inhabitable musical fantasy, a land wherein
magical melodies and entrancing soundscapes offered a haven. "We managed to make this remarkable forest with trees of smoke, with tears of ice, a lake that takes the universe in like an enormous eye... and sometimes ancient beings stir there, sometimes it is filled with the cry of a lost little girl or the cooing of lovers... It is a place where emotions take on forms. A place where fragments from the outside
world wander in and get lost - eventually finding themselves in the process. We're proud of our forest because it is big enough to hold our memories, and even the memories of those whom we have yet to meet. It is a forest we can hide in and a forest that can hide itself between the space and time of a single song. When a tree falls in our forest even when no one is there, you can be sure that all of us hear its sound."
And a seductive sound it must be, especially considering that many of those who were drawn to the songs, became interested in the lyrics even prior to understanding the language they had been written in. "One British University student who had never even been to Finland actually took up studying Finnish language just because he felt he must find out what we were singing about". What accounts for the
attraction? "It's simple? it's the Siren factor, you know? I mean, a Siren's gotta do what a Siren's gotta do". With a puckish glint in her eyes, Jonsu explains how finding an English collaborator for the lyrics came as if by well, (there's that word again) Magic. "Actually, we found each other one of those weird forest coincidences, you know" again, it's difficult to tell when Jonsu is being 'Smartly naive' or 'naively smart'.
"The point is I had read some of his published work earlier because an English friend of mine said it reminded him of some of the themes in our music and, as chance would have it, the writer had a Scandinavian girlfriend and had been listening to our songs way before we even realized anyone outside even cared. The entire collaboration just took off as if from a forest clearing. We both decided that it would be absurd to translate poetry or lyrics. Besides, redoing something is always boring and artificial. Instead, we would grow the whole thing anew like a branch of an old tree planted into new ground it's not going to be the same tree. It can grow in any which way. So, what we did was work on it as a team effort like screenwriters do on films. In a sense, he was obsessed with capturing the sounds I made in my own language. He wanted to hijack the sounds of our language and sneak them into English. I mean, he's a very good poet, but he wanted to keep the lyrics pure and close to my mental landscape that's one of the reasons he asked to remain anonymous, because he kept insisting
that the work we will do together should be something better than either of us could ever do alone. He didn't want to draw on his own experiences but instead he wanted to 'camp out in my brain and help me pick the flowers I didn't know were there'. We hunted images together, we went on scavenger expeditions for how to twist idioms and sounds and the process which was first slow and hard suddenly took off like crazy. And we went from spending four weeks on one song to writing two songs in one week. And luckily, sound does travel. And it never travels in a straight line, so we were getting super positive feedback from places who had never even heard of us before."
As in the best of fairytales, Jonsu is certain that "if I sing a song just right, click my heels the correct number of times, play certain notes, or say exactly the right combination of words, everyone who hears me will have the very same forest growing inside their own heads even after we have gone." That said, Jonsu smiled and vanished, leaving this text to perpetually drift on the outskirts of that uncharitable terrain known as 'happily ever after'.
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