Column: A Postcard Life #6
Whether you enjoy his music or not, Håkan Hellström is one of the most recognizable figures of the contemporary Swedish scene. The drummer for Broder Daniel from the late 80s until the mid-90s, rejoining as bassist in 1997, Hellström played a significant role in shaping not only what is now accepted as 'the Swedish pop sound', but also 'the Göteborg scene' - in so far as one can make generalized statements regarding either entity. Often criticized for his vocal style, one that many detractors feel is systematically flawed by its inability to stay on key, and even accused of plagiarism by Aftonbladet, it is still Hellström's voice that is inexorably linked with many people's experience of youth throughout Sweden from 2000 onward.
The first time I heard the word "fjortis" - see Urban Dictionary and Uncyclopedia - was in association with a young Hellström fan, about the same time I learned what friends meant by "lammkött" - literally, "lamb's meat" - and why certain girls in the cafés we frequented were referred to as "pandas". While obviously more associated in those circumstances with immaturity, even these insulting relationships ally Hellström's music rather strongly with the liminal expanse of youth, adolescence, and coming maturity. As much as we'd all love to believe that we were always as cool as we think we are now, a brief flip through a photo album would easily decimate this certainty. At one time or another, we were all fjortisar.
Imagining an afternoon spent in Vitabergsparken in Stockholm without hearing "Kom igen Lena!" blaring from some battery-powered stereo seems almost sacrilegious. Håkan Hellström, relegated to a somewhat guilty pleasure during my too brief stay in Sweden, will forever be associated with long summer days, cases of Kopparbergs pear cider, and other facets of those post-adolescent experiences where we numbed self-discovery with distraction, traded drunken logic for experience, and stumbled awkwardly out of our late teenage years into our twenties, our arms around whatever girl would have us, our hands preoccupied with sweating cans of 10 kronor cider or cheap bottles of red wine, our voices raised in chorus:
"För många ramlande flickor ramlar förbi
För många rammelsängar att ramla i
Människor ramlar runt på stan
Människor ramlar hårt, precis som du - och jag..."
Håkan Hellström is as much a part of Göteborg as Bruce Springsteen is part of New Jersey, though I'm sure many would rather me align Hellström alongside New Jersey's kitschier, less canonic Bon Jovi. Either way you arrange it - be it "Livin' on a prayer" or "Born to run" - Hellström continues to be a dynamic figure in the Swedish music scene. Whether you are of the opinion that it's been all downhill since "Känn ingen sorg för mig Göteborg" or you've taken the inspired with the forgettable and still find yourself thinking well of his career, Håkan Hellström, especially with the release of the brilliant "För sent för edelweiss", is moving from one-time teen idol to an iconic musical presence. I see Swedish directors in ten or twenty years using Hellström's music in their soundtracks the same way Wes Anderson has repeatedly used the Kinks, the Rolling Stones, and other acts associated with the British Invasion of the 60s and 70s. There is something so encompassing and communicative about Hellström's music, the original work of an avid and influenced student, that while many of his contemporaries will become referred to as "dated", Hellström's works will remain present and alive, able to evoke youthful memories and still carve out meaningful expanses in our present and older days.
/Lars Garvey Laing-Peterson