Listening to the melody gently drawing
you in, on such songs as “Stars and Just for Tonight”, a hauntingly beautiful
song, for which Manna wrote the lyrics, the allure of her music is easy to
understand. Both songs, taken from her latest album Sister, evoke a longing and
yet at the same time a certain serenity, making you want to hear it again and
again, recreating that magical feeling of being gently carried away by the
melody to a place that speaks neither of fear nor disappointment, reminiscent
perhaps of a time and space far away that is safe and private.
It is music that recalls the ‘60s with a
modern twist, a fact Manna brings back to her love for the old and appreciation
for the new. ‘I actually should be more efficient in finding new music because
it’s more like I’m happy with my old friends,’ she states laughingly as
somewhere in the café a chair scrapes across the floor.
‘Sometimes I bump into new music and I love it
and I start listening to it but if I would have to generalize, I would say that
the most interesting music for me has been done already, the roots of it.
Obviously people have new ideas, fresh points of view and creativity and that’s
the whole point of making new stuff but those are the artists I grew up with
and which obviously are my influences because that’s how I build my whole
ideas.’
Manna has chosen Café Kafka, as our meeting
point, considering that it is quiet, ‘a good place to talk’ and frequently
interviews are done there. Entering, I can immediately see why. Efficient use
of space, which in one way or another always seems to be associated with
Scandinavian design in what could easily pass for a 1930’s setting, allowing
customers to sit and relax, have a tea,
cigarettes or coffee while someone else is standing in line, enquiring about
shows or getting tickets.
It’s a throwback to other times when the
country was still young, finding its footsteps, shaping its newfound identity
against two neighboring countries it probably didn’t always like and trying to
figure out what was becoming of it; an oasis of time travel in an otherwise
modern environment. Small signs on street corners, point to the way most
tourist attractions can be found but there is nothing ostentatious, the sites
are imbedded into the scenery, a mixture of old and of new, not screaming ‘look
at me’ but blending in, a bit like the music, softly calling out, enticing you
gently.
Inside it is cozy and warm. If I would be here
on my own, I’d most likely be dozing off. Sitting inside, drinking coffeeand smoking
cigarettes,
it is possible – if one ignores all the cell phones and imagines a slightly
different fashion – if one closes one’s eyes, to imagine this in a 1930s
setting.
The German writer Klaus Mann, exiled a year
after his visit to Finland, was toying around with making this country his
home. Or so legend says. In the end he became a vagabond, roaming the earth
with alternate bases set up in Paris - Amsterdam, New York and intermittently
Pacific Palisades when visiting his parents. It is perhaps hard to imagine his
summer road trip through Finland and the rest of Scandinavia on this winter
afternoon, sitting inside watching people as they hurry by, passing deftly
through the snow. Even the sounds in the café seem to be muffled, as if
somehow, this place had decided to throw a cocoon over its people, those who
come regularly and those, who like I, just happen to drop by, on a visit
perhaps or hoping to find more.
