En Mil Ner
Oh, that was a long time ago... Sitting in the listening-booth at the local record shop, couldn´t afford my own record player. Listening to this and that, and to American folk music, and not just Woody. Trying to capture it all. Oh, that was quite a lot. So much so that the owner of the shop threw me out once and for all. Nowhere to go. But yet... Folk music, well... music, anyway. Lyrics that caught you and set you free. The constant movement within them - these men (it was almost always men) who were celebrated in those songs. Always seemed to be going someplace: breaking up, breaking away, boozing and losing, hiking, riding the trains, looking for jobs and love, deserting everything and pawning their lifes. Words that seemed to be on the run, a man in one song disappeared and could suddenly appear in quite another song, in the guise of someone else. And the train´s sixteen coaches were suddenly twenty-one. Against all this, the music, kind of static, as if it was still in another century. The same three old chords, as even though everything was changing everything was still the same. The road from that listening-booth was long and winding. But when I many years later - after I released "Samma kärlek, samma regn" (Same Love, Same Rain) in 2004, a mixture of old and new songs of mine - started writing a bunch of new songs, it was these images from a long-forgotten youth that returned: roads and mines, broadsheets and sailor´s yarns, coffeehouses and stone floors, mysterious encounters and early mornings at railroad stations, and, oh there it was, Hank William´s hat. But now the cards were reversed. Everything was old, but yet new - jolted. Perhaps the songs on this record, "En mil ner" (One Mile Down the Road), are like the sandwich-signs that Guthrie painted. They appear, disappear, and appear again, at a totally different place. Perhaps you´ll come across them again some day, one mile down the road...