Moneybrother - London, UK - Spring 2005
By: Hanna Flodr
Three songs into Moneybrother's set at the Barfly, his first appearance in London, a shrill, wall-shattering fire alarm accidentally goes off. Anders Wendin, aka Moneybrother, looks startled for a fraction of a second, raises an eyebrow, and then quickly composes himself. 'Damn, am I too hot for London or what?!' The singer laughs contently and adjusts his skinny black tie. He nods to his six-piece backing band and launches into 'Blow Him Back Into My Arms', a sparkling piece complete with oscillating keyboards and vibrant backing vocals, whipping and whirling the heat up further. We're compelled.
So, Moneybrother has every reason to be confident. In the beginning of March he released his second album, 'To Die Alone', a soul-laced journey down to the depths of his heart, to both critical and commercial acclaim in his native Sweden including a number one spot. He is about to hit it big-time in mainland Europe, where exuberant disco single 'They're Building Walls Around Us' is dancing up various charts, and a persistent buzz is being heard in the States.
'Writing music is the only thing I'm really good at, that's my thing,' says Wendin matter of factly. 'In every other area, other people win hands down, but there aren't many in Sweden beating me when it comes to songwriting.'
'To Die Alone' is an odyssey in the world of heartache, and mostly deals with Wendin's break up with his girlfriend of six years. His distinct gravelly voice is underpinned with weeping strings, boisterous horns and eloquent melodies, melodies that will give voice to a generation of tearful goodbyes and sleepless nights.
The almost disturbingly naked lyrics have been analysed and dissected to pieces by the Swedish press, but Wendin himself doesn't think they're as personal and vulnerable as they're made out to be.
'Everybody who does soul music writes about heartbreak and sorrow, he shrugs. I'm not a big fan of poetic lyrics. I like lyrics that are 'street', like Ramones. I love old soul and reggae where the lyrics are always very upfront, sometimes almost childishly honest. I'd feel pathetic if I sat home and wrote lyrics like ... 'beyond the threshold, there is a voice',' he states theatrically.
Anders Wendin is jetlagged, suffering from a cold and not really in the mood. He's casually dressed in uniform black and propped up at the bar, head resting in his hand. He speaks slowly, as if weighing every word, in a lilting northern Swedish accent. The night before he flew in from a packed showcase at New York's legendary CBGB's, and he's about to embark on a major Scandinavian tour. The 30-year-old has somewhat strangely made an impact on the German audience, something he has sarcastically attributed to his 'extremely good looks'.
Truth to tell, Moneybrothers's success in Germany is mainly a result from incessant touring with Wendin's previous band, Monster, a ska-punk band, with attitude, that quite often would get beaten up by Nazis who didn't agree with the band's political stance. However, even more often the band members ended up beating each other up. Monster was dissolved in 2000 and Anders Wendin decided to go solo. His debut album, 'Blood Panic', was released three years later and rewarded with three Swedish Grammies.
As his alias, Moneybrother, Wendin combines his love for soul and reggae with his admiration for artists like Mink DeVille and Steve Forbert. Resultantly, Wendin has described himself as a white man trying to sing soul, and failing.
Occasionally, he gets criticised for not having the most accurate of voices. Personally, however, he thinks he sings like a king. He's refreshingly confident about his art, but claims to be extremely insecure in every other area. One of his biggest fears is waking up one day having lost his ability to conjure good songs, to have lost his main source of confidence.
'Someday I'd like to be able to find enough security in myself, so I could look in the mirror and think, 'Hey, there stands a great guy!' he admits brutally.
Anders Wendin grew up in Ludvika in the eighties, a stifling small town in the middle of Sweden with a strong Nazi subculture. The options were to either join them or to be on the receiving end. He chose the latter. He spent most of his youth dreaming himself away, listening to music as an escape route. As an 8-year-old, when the rest of his classmates were moon-walking to Wacko, Wendin discovered Prince. And at the age of 13 he got into trouble for scribbling Run DMC all over the school benches. Blues, indie, rock, metal and glam - every genre is explored and scrutinized before he spikes his hair, dons chunky boots and transforms himself into a punk kid. Anders Wendin was never the popular one, nor the handsome one. He is the restless one, the one always on the look out for something new and different, a way out.
'I think that might be the reason I have pushed myself as hard as I have. If you look at the girls who used to be the prettiest in the class - they are all still stuck in their humdrum little towns with two kids and a crappy job at Tesco's. It is the girls who were considered ordinary who nowadays are doing cool stuff like digging ditches in India or so,' he muses.
Wendin's quest for excitement finally took him to Stockholm in the early nineties, where he met Victor Brobacke, a trombone player involved in various local bands. Brobacke was already half a legend himself, famous for his unrestrictive stage presence and peculiar dress sense, which back then consisted of bondage trousers and pink hair. It was Victor Brobacke who introduced Anders Wendin to ska and reggae music and eventually, the pair made up the core of Monster.
Nowadays Brobacke is the heart of Moneybrother's backing band 'The Panthers', together with sax player Gustav Bent and bass player Patrick Andersson. However, this time around, democracy in not invited - Moneybrother IS Anders Wendin's band.
'Musically, I decide everything in Moneybrother, no discussion. I am Moneybrother. The other guys trust me when it comes to songwriting, and if they didn't agree with me, then they know that they'd have to leave the band.'
Wendin is adamant about letting people know that his success didn't happen overnight, that he has worked hard to get where he is: endless tours of empty clubs, no hotels, no food, and no money. Nor has he forgotten his roots himself: he is still his own tour manager, his own roadie and he still sells his own merchandise after the shows, not because he can't afford to employ someone else, but because he doesn't like letting go. Changes could destroy the dynamics he's spent years building up. However, as international fame seems to be lurking around the corner, this multi-tasking might have to come to an end pretty soon.
'Yeah, you're probably right,' he smiles ruefully. 'I think I'll have to stop being the one selling the T-shirts after the shows. Something's got to give.'
Artists in this article: Moneybrother