Biosphere - An Arctic immersion into minimal techno

Blending ambient house and minimal techno with visions of arctic glaciation, Norwegian artist Geir Jenssen, born in 1962, has become, from the dawn of the Nineties to today, a pioneering figure in the overcrowded world of global electronic music. A heavyweight who shuns the mainstream yet has also shown enormous skill in crafting high-class pop, he co-founded in 1985 the Bel Canto, who were among the most precious gems of the dream-pop genre. Adopting the moniker Biosphere, as early as his debut “Microgravity” in '91, he delivered an early milestone, a tough act to follow, which would nonetheless be succeeded by further reasons for excitement, from the abstract textures of “Substrata” ('97) to the virtuosic samples drawn from the world of classical music on the little-known “L'incoronazione di Poppea” (2012).

Geir, what was your life like back when you started out in music under the moniker E-Man?

From 1981 to '85 I studied archaeology, and I did my civil service with the archaeological department of the Tromsø museum. Then I started working part time in the university's archaeological lab and took part in several digs in northern Norway - a well-paid job, which allowed me to buy my first equipment. Around that time, in fact, I'd started experimenting with a friend's synth.

What did you start out with?

Mostly Roland gear, bought at the local music shop: a TR-808, TR-606, TB-303, MC-202, SH-101, a Korg Poly 61 synthesizer and a Teac 144 four-track cassette recorder. Instruments that are worth a fortune today. I'd often stay up all night working on my music, and the next morning I'd have to go to class; it was a constant struggle between those two interests - archaeology and music. I had no interest in making the latter my job, but I was certainly determined to push myself in a particular stylistic direction through it.

From the Bleep album "The North Pole By Submarine" to the follow-up, "Microgravity" as Biosphere, there's a clear leap in quality.

I don't see it as such a dramatic leap: both records combine electronic rhythms with ambient elements. The Bleep project, that's true, was inspired by the acid house and Detroit techno I listened to a lot between '87 and '91.

So you don't think there was a specific trigger behind the birth of "Microgravity"?

Well, around '90 I also started working as a radio DJ at the local station, Brygga Radio. On my show, Bleep Culture, I'd play new electronic music and read short texts about astronomy and science fiction. Little by little, I also started mixing dance music with ambient stuff like Brian Eno's "Apollo" and Peter Gabriel's "Birdy". The result sounded new to my ears, and that gave me the idea for Biosphere's debut. Since a lot of the music from that period seemed unable to withstand the passing of time, I aimed to create something that would resist changing trends. So it was important to avoid samples like "Can You Feel It?" and dig up elements nobody had ever used before. Anyway, when I signed to R&S and Apollo in '92, I happened to meet Richard D. James (Aphex Twin) in a studio in Ghent, Belgium, and on that occasion he confessed to me that, when it came out, "The North Pole By Submarine" was one of his favourite albums.

Is your music concerned with reaching the spirit?

I don't consider myself a spiritual person, but sometimes I like to think there are musical fragments floating around the universe, like neutrinos shooting through matter. My job is to catch them, and to do that you need to be at peace and focused. It can be inspiring to think of it that way.

Which bands pushed you to become a composer?

Mostly the post-punk that came out between 1979 and 1982.

I want names.

Off the top of my head, among many others: Joy Division, New Order, Wire, Dome, Tuxedomoon, Residents, Orchestral Manoeuvres In The Dark, Depeche Mode, Human League, Cabaret Voltaire, Throbbing Gristle, 23 Skidoo, Brian Eno, Japan, Ryūichi Sakamoto.

Before these heavyweights, what did you go through?

Miscellaneous stuff, from Pink Floyd to Supertramp, 10cc, Steve Harley, Kraftwerk, Clash. All things I'll never tire of listening to.

Which electronic composers are able to keep a steady beat going while also moving you emotionally?

I don't know if, at this point, steady beats still interest me, but a few names that come to mind, in order, are early Kraftwerk, the debut EP by Human League, "The Dignity Of Labour" in 1979, and, for the 90s, the stuff from Basic Channel.

How much does instrumentation affect your choices as a composer?

I'll tell you how it works for me: first of all, I work exclusively with electronic instruments, mainly synthesizers and samplers. I usually start from scratch with a synth, or work with a preset if there's already one saved in memory. The first step is the hardest: finding a small theme or sound to build something around. Then I might bring in a couple of other instruments to find some chords, a bassline, a rhythm, or the most fitting field recording. My compositions rarely contain more than 3-4 tracks.

In limitation, you find your virtue.

The reason, probably, is that when I started making music, all I had was a 4-track cassette recorder. Since then, I've kept this attraction to limitations, even though computers now let you produce and work with an infinite number of tracks.

What might be the ingredients that make "Substrata" one of your most beloved albums?

It could be the combination of field recording and music inspired by the classical tradition.

The truth: why did you stop performing live?

At a certain point, after being on the road since the early 90s, I got tired of travelling. Too many check-ins, too much waiting around for everything: to catch a flight, to start the soundcheck, to start the show. All that moving around, above all, got in the way of working in the studio. Now on Mondays I can walk into the studio happy, knowing I won't have to go anywhere else, not now and not in the future.

After a somewhat hazy period on record, you returned in 2023 with the excellent "Inland Delta". And now you're back with a new work…

Yes, a new album just out on AD 93, titled "The Way Of Time". It's loosely inspired by the novel "The Time Of Man" by Elizabeth Madox Roberts, sampling Joan Lorring's voice from the 1951 radio adaptation.

What were the real reasons behind your leaving Bel Canto?

There were several reasons. Anneli (Drecker, ed.) and Nils (Johansen, ed.) wanted to live in Oslo, while I wanted to stay in Tromsø. I had also invested in new equipment, including a sampler, which let me produce music from home, and even then I found that more rewarding than going to rehearsals with a band. On top of that, we'd evolved in somewhat different directions: I was more interested in techno, acid house and new beat, while they were heading in an ethnic direction.

You made your debut with a minor masterpiece, “White-Out Conditions”: what do you think was your main achievement with it?

During an archaeological dig in the Lofoten Islands, around 1984, I had the idea of creating a kind of electronic music that would sound “arctic”. That intention is at the root of the sound of both “White-Out Conditions” and “Birds Of Passage”.

What was your working method in the studio at the time of your second album, “Birds Of Passage”?

I can tell you this: at the time, some journalists wrote that “Birds Of Passage” already hinted at the Biosphere sound to come; and that's probably true, because I was working on the album's electronic programming during the same period in which I was sketching out ideas for what would become “Microgravity”.

Pete Namlook: an artist virtually unknown in Italy, yet with a discography full of major collaborations. Like yours. How do you want to remember him, 13 years after his death?

It was difficult working with him, because he was hugely busy with his label, Fax. He'd put out as many as two releases a week, and it all rested on his shoulders. I dug up my diary from the time of our collaboration on the 1993 album “The Fires Of Ork”.

Go ahead.

Tuesday, June 22, 1993 – Found a letter from Pete Namlook in the mailbox! He wants to record a CD with me. Funny. In my opinion, he's put out the best music of recent times. Had a long phone conversation with him. His real name is Peter Kuhlmann. He wasn't happy that I had a publishing deal with R&S Records, since he didn't want any interference from Renaat (the label's founder, ed.).

Monday, June 28 – Katrien from R&S called. I told her about Namlook. Right after, Renaat called: “Namlook? No way, not a chance!”.

Tuesday, August 17 – While I was packing for Frankfurt, Peter called to tell me that he and Renaat had reached an agreement. We can make an album together and maybe release it through R&S. Good start to the day. Also had a good trip to Frankfurt. Peter showed me his apartment/studio and what will be my room. Dinner at a restaurant.

Thursday, August 19 – Started working early. Peter's girlfriend read out some lines we sampled for the track “Talk To The Stars”. After dinner, we started working on my “Energy To Earth”. Great work from Peter on the EMS Synthi Aks. It was a great experience watching him at work. But I didn't like the fact that he kept having to leave the studio to deal with family matters. I could feel something was off: he was getting moodier and the atmosphere was turning unpleasant.

And that's when the problems started, I take it…

Listen to this: Monday, August 23 – Waited all day. First he had to attend his daughter's birthday party, then he had urgent office work to catch up on. I got through it by copying some records from his collection, but by 7pm I was about to explode. Fourth day of doing nothing. Almost took the train to Belgium (but I don't have enough money). Finally at 8pm we start composing using “the mountain idea”: we imagine a person at the summit, lost in the fog. Peter added the typical synth strings used on the album “Silence” and read some Nietzsche, filtering his voice. I'm thrilled with the result, we called the track “Gebirge”.

Another interesting collaboration of yours is with Bobby Bird, aka Higher Intelligence Agency.

I met him in '94, when I played at his legendary club Oscillate, in Birmingham. When the Norwegian body Rikskonsertene asked me if I wanted to create a piece at the upper cable car station above Tromsø together with a foreign artist, I invited Bobby. We worked hard in my small studio for a week, coming up with tracks made from samples of cable car sounds, tracks we then performed live right there in that unusual location. Today I'm very happy with the result, which we titled “Polar Sequences”.

There was a second recording session together…

A couple of years later, in fact, it was he who invited me to Birmingham for a project similar to the previous one: we sampled sounds from the city and performed in an imposing cylindrical building called Rotunda. The result came out on CD in 2000 as “Birmingham Frequencies”.

What do you demand from your music today?

It depends on where I want my music to go. I've released a lot of work over more than 40 years of activity, and each time I've tried to shift direction a little. This can very often lead to months of experimentation in which I don't quite know what soundscape I've ended up in. But, every time, at a certain point an idea shows up that I know I can follow blindly. To figure out if I've taken the right direction, I just have to listen repeatedly to what I'm working on, and if it doesn't tire me out, it means we're there; at that point, all that's left is to preserve its essence, without straying from the original intuition.

How do you enjoy life when you're not composing?

I'm a father of two children, aged 9 and 5, and that naturally takes up a considerable chunk of my free time. Beyond that, my life involves a lot of skiing, running and cycling. I used to go climbing too, but I quit about ten years ago, after being rescued off a peak by helicopter.

The essential names for understanding the electronic revolution of the Nineties?

Let's do it this way: I'll give you the albums that impressed me most in the early '90s, when I started the Biosphere project, even though some of these titles might not be particularly well-known or usually considered essential.

I couldn't ask for more.

In no particular order: “International Smoke Signal” by No Smoke; “Frequencies” by LFO; “The Future Is Ours” by Musto & Bones; “Intro CrackDown” by Psyche (Carl Craig), included on the various-artists compilation “Relics”; the 12’’ “First Power/Synth-It” by Revelation; the EP “A Decongestant For The Mind” by Subliminal Aurra; the 12’’ “Plasma Energy” by Brutal Bill; the 12’’ “Mundo Muzique” by Andromeda; the album “Orange” by Atom Heart; “Bcd” by Basic Channel”; the third 12’’ by Code 6 with the track “Third Aura”; the album “Jus’ Unique” by Unique 3; the 12’’ “Method In The Bass” by Rebel Alliance; the 12’’ “Paradise” by Atlantis; the album “Silence” by Pete Namlook with Dr. Atmo.

Is sampling natural sounds an essential part of your biomusic?

According to Wikipedia, “biomusic” is defined as an experimental genre largely characterized by sounds performed by non-humans. In that sense, yes, I've used sounds taken from nature for “Substrata”, and I sampled animal calls in a field in Tibet for “Cho Oyu 8201m-Field Recordings From Tibet”, an album released under my real name. I've found, though, that the number of truly interesting sounds you can find in nature is rather limited, especially up here in the North. Around here, the voices of wind and water dominate. And I think it's been years since I last used field microphones. I'll tell you more: lately I've had the impression that field recordings have become a very pretentious art form. It's actually much easier to just make sound recordings than it is, say, to take good photographs.

Do you still live in Tromsø?

Tromsø has been destroyed by tourism. If you look at social media, you'd think you could admire the northern lights and the midnight sun here all the time. The reality is that the climate is extremely unstable, with continuous rain and snow because of climate change. Even the long cold spells are gone now. Yet tourists aren't put off by any of this, and the result is that we're having the same problems as cities like Barcelona. And “thanks” to Airbnb, rents keep rising, so local people end up moving out of the city. This has also created a domino effect that makes it hard to find staff for nurseries, teachers, nurses and so on. And the noise pollution produced by the airport gets worse every day. Luckily for me, I have a cabin to retreat to on weekends.

In what way do you feel deeply Norwegian?

I don't feel especially Norwegian. You have to understand there's a big difference between the North and the South, a bit like between Scotland and England. Northern Norway was colonized by Denmark-Norway a few hundred years ago, and personally I feel more affinity with the people of the North, which includes Norse culture but also Sami culture. We're somewhat different from southern Norwegians - maybe more similar to a subarctic people, the kind used to bad weather and a desolate landscape.

This one, surprisingly, is from Warhol: "I think not damaging your environment is one of the highest forms of art you could have."

Here in Norway we're destroying nature on a large scale, especially thanks to these pointless wind farms that "have to" be built to provide cheap energy for Google's and TikTok's data centers. Not to mention the completely hopeless battery factories, companies that go bankrupt before they've even made a single battery, because either way they can't compete with the ones coming out of China. If you look closely, we'd have plenty of energy through hydropower, but since we've been connected to the European electricity grid, it now turns out we don't have enough electricity. It's the classic "butterfly effect," and it goes back to the Fukushima nuclear accident of 2011.

What does Fukushima have to do with it?

The Fukushima disaster persuaded Merkel to shut down all the nuclear plants in Germany and invest in solar and wind energy instead. The deal didn't work out, and as far as I can tell they're currently burning more coal than before! On top of that, they import gas and hydroelectric power from Norway, and that's driven up the cost of electricity enormously in the south of the country. We in the North have escaped it because there's a lack of transmission cables between the two parts of Norway. But now the government, after pressure from lobbies involved in the green transition, wants to electrify a huge gas plant in the north of the country. That will require almost all of our hydroelectric power, so we'll be forced to build thousands of wind turbines, while electricity prices skyrocket. The ones who benefit are the green energy companies, which are often owned by German pension funds. But soon the North of Norway will rise up against these strategies.

What's the most extraordinary aspect of being an artist?

I'm the sole master of my working day. I can pretty much do whatever I want. And I don't have to go to meetings! I can decide whether to work in the studio or go for a run. I consider myself extremely lucky to have managed to make a living through music.

(July 6, 2025)

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