Xiu Xiu - There has been beauty in everything

"In tutto c'è stata bellezza", the title of a moving novel by Manuel Vilas, seems to us the perfect way to describe the current state of the art of Xiu Xiu and the phase that their now long-running path of exploration is going through. First of all because Vilas makes the processing of pain, and the liberating awareness that comes from it, the subject matter of a gripping narrative. And also because, according to the Spanish writer, art contains "two different truths, but both true: that of the book and that of life".

“Ignore Grief”, the latest album from Jamie Stewart and co., moves from the same premises. On one hand, it indirectly challenges the listener not to ignore pain; on the other, it deliberately operates on two levels, one of real truth and one of imagined truth. Each of the two worlds is assigned its own atmosphere, its own sound, its own voice (Jamie sings half the tracks, Angela Seo the other half), its own intention. Together, these two components achieve a synthesis that feels particularly universal and contemporary. Indeed, today more than ever, the stark, powerful, jagged expressionism of Xiu Xiu seems to perfectly embody the spirit of the times — not in its most cynical and superficial aspects, but in its most aware and empathetic ones.

In recent years Jamie Stewart has grappled with David Lynch's morbid imagery, pushing it to its most extreme consequences. That happened in 2016 with “Plays The Music Of Twin Peaks”: a turning point, if you look back with hindsight at that venture and its overall significance. The new album “Ignore Grief” on one hand returns to that same visionary terrain, and on the other develops the deep introspection and constant risk-taking with balance that was tested three years later on “Girl Basket Of Fruit”. The result is an indefinable complexity that borders on a kind of unsettling classicism, straddling the avant-garde and industrial. The project thus seems to pick up the baton of a lineage of sound sculptors running from Test Department to In The Nursery, to name just two out of many possible examples, from Deerhoof right up to the more recent sonic nightmares of The Murder Capital and The Klinik.

Buoyed by this energy, at once sonic, aesthetic and emotional, Jamie and co. return to Italy, following their summer appetizer at the Disorder Festival in Olivero Citra, for no fewer than four dates. They'll play on September 27 at the Biko in Milan, on the 28th at the Caracol in Pisa, on the 29th at the TPO in Bologna, and finally in Turin, on September 30 at the Magazzini sul Po. We put a few questions to a sharp, self-deprecating Jamie Stewart, clearly happy to be back in the embrace of fans, ready to share with them every form of beauty. Including that of pain.

“Ignore Grief” is an album based half on real situations and half on an imagined reality. This contrast between the two levels, tied to a context of processing grief, immediately brought to mind what Guy Debord says about modern man and his inability, stemming from media overexposure, to grasp the difference between the real and the imaginary. Do you think people push away grief because they've lost their sense of reality?

Certainly today, much more than in the past, everyone tends to "dehumanize" themselves in order not to feel pain. The virtual dimension keeps you connected to something, but disconnected from the negative things you don't want to face. It's a palliative use of media, one that makes you believe you're doing something for yourself, when actually what you want is to leave part of yourself behind. It's a defense mechanism like any other. You don't look at pain so you don't implode.

In that sense, could the album's music be understood as a kind of provocation?

That strikes me as a very interesting perspective. In a way, I think it could apply a bit to all our music.

Put that way, it almost sounds like a reference to Antonin Artaud's Theatre of Cruelty. Can music also have a cathartic value?

Yes, certainly. And as a musician and music lover I've experienced that function myself. But I think there can be many different answers as to how to explore pain through aesthetic experience. Probably as many as there are languages, and in a sense as many as the people who experience it.

You mention aesthetic experience. Coming back to the album, what kind of listening experience would you like it to produce?

Every record we make is meant to build a world from which anyone can draw something they felt, more or less consciously, that they needed. What matters is that there's that connection between us and them. Whatever each person finds in our music is a possibility we leave open.

Did your work on the “Twin Peaks” soundtrack have an influence on the making of this record?

The “Twin Peaks” record was our first venture into a completely imaginary universe. It was a huge shift in perspective, because we'd always been used to translating emotional states tied to reality into music. Naturally we drew a great lesson from that experience, a considerable evolution in terms of the musical possibilities available to Xiu Xiu. That's also why half of “Ignore Grief” is based on imagination and the other half on the real world. Without the work on “Twin Peaks” we would never have envisioned a concept like this one.

I know you now live in Berlin. How do you experience the difference with Los Angeles? Do you miss it?

I moved to Berlin last year, so I can't help constantly comparing two cities that are so large and have such distinct identities. And so different, too! I miss Los Angeles like crazy, but I don't know if I'd ever go back to live there for so many, many years again. At the same time, no matter how beat-up or sad it might seem, it will always be my city, the only one I can call home. Berlin is a responsible, pragmatic partner, with a good job and plenty of fine qualities that give you a sense of security. Los Angeles is a toxic, crazy love, but terribly attractive, the kind you have amazing sex with, only to have it massacre you and your whole family the next day.

Let's get back to talking about music, and also about duality. The previous record, "Oh No", was made entirely of duets, while here you share the stage equally with Angela Seo. Where did these choices come from?

I think I'm going to disappoint you now. It's not something I thought about, except in hindsight. There's surely a reason why both records only made sense to me when made in a certain way. Maybe it's a coincidence, though I don't think so. There must be a reason, but I don't know it. Let's see what the next record will be like.

You've also got David Kendrick with you, who does really interesting work on the percussion front. What's it like working with him?

Believe it or not, we used to play together when we were kids. He's always been very kind to me. A couple of years ago, after about twenty years without seeing each other, I ran into him in an art gallery and ran up to him. From there we reconnected and started recording things together. It was all very spontaneous, as if that original feeling had come back and no time had passed at all.

David played with Devo. What do you think of their devolution theory? Have you ever been influenced by it?

I'd like to have a time machine and go into the parallel universe to see if they're right.

Speaking of references, you've just released a gorgeous cover of "The Passenger" by Iggy Pop. Are you a fan of Iggy?

I'd say it's actually a cover of a cover. It refers to the reinterpretation of the song that Siouxsie did on the covers album "Through The Looking Glass". Cleopatra Records, for whom we've already done remixes in the past, asked us if we'd like to do it, and since we're fans of the label, of Iggy and of Siouxsie & The Banshees, we immediately said yes. Another track sung by Angela!

The new songs have a sound that's different both from a certain part of your previous material and from the languages of rock. Do you have a particular restyling planned for your back catalogue?

Yes, as with every tour. It's a creative challenge we owe to the people who come to see us. We've been playing together for 20 years and there are people who have followed us from the start. We try to give them the truest, strongest, most heartfelt part of ourselves, but also our desire to look forward and push past our own limits. The studio dimension and the live one are different worlds, and it's worth exploring them fully, even when that means facing difficulties.

You too went back to playing live after the forced stop of the pandemic. What was it like finding your audience again?

We started back up this spring, and we hadn't performed as a band since 2019. We feel lucky to be able to do it again. Every single person who came to our shows was wonderful. Every one! I don't think I'm exaggerating when I say that the people who come to Xiu Xiu shows are the best audience you could possibly imagine.

As many as four dates in Italy. Milan, Pisa, Bologna, Turin. What memories do you have of your previous tours over here? Is there an anecdote you remember?

Playing in Italy is fantastic, because people are always very warm and expressive towards us. I remember in particular our first tour in 2004. We played on the forecourt (with an uneven floor, so the keyboards were always at risk of falling) of a church known to the locals as the "Chiesa della morte" [Church of Death]. There were skulls everywhere.

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