Anohni Hegarty, an artist known for her uncompromising nature, creates stunning music that serves as a warning to humanity about its impending demise. Whether through the orchestral beauty of her 2005 album “I Am a Bird Now” or the electronic beats of her 2016 release “Hopelessness,” Anohni’s haunting voice prophesies the death of herself, our species, and our planet with a clarity that leaves listeners paralyzed.
With an Oscar nomination under her belt and a spot on Rolling Stone’s list of the top 200 singers of all time, Anohni exudes a gravitas usually reserved for Nobel laureates rather than working musicians. On her band’s latest album, “My Back Was a Bridge for You to Cross,” she positions herself explicitly within the American protest-music tradition. The songs’ rhythms and refrains call to mind the powerful voices of Nina Simone, Marvin Gaye, and other civil rights singers. Some of the lyrics, like the opening track “It Must Change,” could easily be slogans heard at a march. The album cover features a photo of Marsha P. Johnson, the influential activist who played a vital role in the queer liberation movement and inspired the name of Anohni’s band, the Johnsons. This image serves as a reminder that Anohni has been singing about her transgender identity long before it became a mainstream concern.
While beautiful, the new songs on this album still maintain a brutal honesty. “Scapegoat,” for example, explores a hate crime from the perspective of the criminal, highlighting the violent intentions and dehumanization involved. In “Why Am I Alive Now?,” Anohni paints a vivid picture of a dystopian world with smoky skies and dying animals, expressing her distress at being a witness to such horrors. These bleak visions beg the question: What actions can we take to inspire change? I spoke with Anohni to gain a deeper understanding.
Interviewing Anohni turned out to be just as intense an experience as listening to her music. While she initially greeted me in a jovial manner, her speech eventually became halting and deliberate. Each answer required careful consideration and the use of custom terminology. She frequently paused and asked to revise her thoughts, sometimes speaking through tears. However, as our conversation came to an end, the intensity dissipated, and she returned to her cheerful demeanor. “Sorry if I got a little… I don’t know what I got,” she said before we hung up. I felt emotionally drained but also reassured, knowing that within the fear and despair of Anohni’s music lies a well-thought-out theory on how we can all survive.
This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.
Spencer Kornhaber: Is the title of “It Must Change” a command, telling people to change, or is it a statement of fact that change is inevitable?
Anohni: It originated from a feeling within me. It is creating a space in one’s imagination for change to exist. I witnessed society go from a state of denial in the ’90s about the gravity of environmental changes we were already experiencing to a resigned attitude within a decade. I questioned why that imaginative space was suffocated.
Part of the reason is the feeling of disempowerment people face. Consumerism has forced us into positions of complicity where even eating food comes with harm. It is difficult to envision broader change when we face shame and guilt for our own consumer-driven complicity.
Kornhaber: Your previous album, “Hopelessness,” embodied that feeling of hopelessness. The vibe of this new album is different. Does it reflect gaining hope or a change in how you express yourself?
Anohni: “Hopelessness” was a record I strategically created to disrupt people’s assumptions about my voice. It was no longer a voice of solace or comfort. I wanted to engage in complex conversations about my own complicity.
Interestingly, those who resonated with “Hopelessness” were people who felt the same way but appreciated having someone sing those thoughts for them. It is powerful to hear someone express the sentiment of not wanting to be part of a drone bombing campaign or other destructive actions.
Singing is a unique form of communication. It transcends language and reaches deep into our spirits. When you merge clear ideas with music, it taps into a different part of us. Marvin Gaye did this with “What’s Going On,” using music as a channel to convey a plain-spoken script about life. It was an accumulation of songs that identified various issues and culminated in a powerful worldview. That’s what I aimed to achieve with “Hopelessness.”
Ironically, despite the perception that “Hopelessness” was indeed hopeless, my intention was to use more forceful language to express my true feelings. The music I was creating was too gentle and pastoral, lacking a response to the times we live in. That’s why I made “Hopelessness”; it wasn’t a casual pursuit with classical musicians.
Kornhaber: Where does your new album fit in with these sentiments?
Anohni: This album came about on impulse. During the COVID pandemic, I reached out to my label and said, “I want to make a ‘blue-eyed soul’ record.” The idea of blue-eyed soul is complicated and problematic, but it is rooted in where my voice comes from.
As a 10-year-old, I listened to New Wave singers like Boy George and Alison Moyet, with their soulful voices sung in American accents. I sat by the radio in southern England, hearing vocalists express a knowledge that was missing from other aspects of society. These singers embodied a gracious resilience, and I wondered why.
These voices were imitating and drawing from the soulful technology of Black American music from the ’50s and ’60s. British kids grabbed onto it as a life raft. The class system in the UK was oppressive, and suddenly, these children were exposed to voices like Otis Redding and Nina Simone. It was enlightening. These singers knew how to navigate challenging circumstances with grace, resilience, and joy. The British youth embraced and imitated this technology across generations.
Kornhaber: Considering the conversation around appropriation, how do you grapple with it?
Anohni: I come from a naive generation. Boy George, for instance, was an effeminate queen in makeup and Hasidic outfits, joined by a diverse band. His voice, similar to Millie Jackson’s, was a fusion of identities. To me, that’s cultural biodiversity. Now we might see it as a naive vision of multiculturalism, but that’s what I grew up with. Seeing diversity in the city was where I felt safe.
The conversation about appropriation is valid, and I am not here to justify it. I simply want to be honest about where my voice comes from and express gratitude for this technology that saved my life.
Kornhaber: That brings me to the album cover featuring Marsha P. Johnson. Could you talk about the significance of her image?
Anohni: Marsha P. Johnson represents the Rosa Parks of the transgender liberation movement. In the past six years, she has finally received recognition. Her image on the album cover is a tribute to her legacy and a reminder of my own exploration of transgender identity long before it gained mainstream attention.
Throughout this interview, Anohni provides a unique perspective on her music and the messages she conveys through it. Her album serves as a call to action, urging listeners to confront the challenges facing our world and consider the possibility of change. Through her powerful voice and thought-provoking lyrics, Anohni brings attention to pressing issues while also acknowledging the influences and complexities of her artistic journey.
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