Sangre de Muerdago – A Blaze Ansuz: Antifascist Neofolk

From Galicia With Love: An Interview With Sangre de Muérdago

The soul of antifascist neofolk came from bands who already were connected to the genre, but had a different starting point. For the people of the country, who were resisting encroaching empire or, later, fascist dictatorship, folk music was a type of cultural struggle that helped to remember who they were in the face of total erasure. In Galicia, the regional language and cultural practices, the strength of women and the diversity they respected, was crushed as Francisco Franco’s nationalist regime banned the language and expressions of tradition.

This is what has driven Galician neofolk giants Sangre de Muérdago to focus these folk traditions, handed down by families in their homes and pubs, alive in modern concert halls. A mix of romantic folk revival, traditionalist instrumentation, and a musical drive from the punk and metal world, Sangre de Muérdago has become one of the most defining crossover bands of the neofolk scene and have bucked the perception of the genre as solely owned by the far-right. Instead their anarchist inspired music has pushed back on bigotry and oppression, that was the role of the music from the start.

We interviewed Pablo C. Ursusso, who plays classical guitar and writes much of the music, about how they came together, what role Galician music has in fighting fascist oppression, and why they are taking a stand.

How did Sangre de Muérdago first come together?

Hard to describe, the winds brought us together, and then they separated us again, and then the long journey began… Sangre de Muérdago is an attempt to capture the essence of the wild spirits and translate them into our language through music, and I think this idea is what in first place brought us together.

The sound is firmly based in the Galician folk tradition, why do you focus on reviving Galician music? Did this come from your own family traditions?

The sound is based in Galician tradition but also in many other fields. I think we are more focused on reviving the spirit I mentioned before, but we definitely have a compromise with Galician music and folklore.

I’ve grown up in a relatively undeveloped area and I still absorbed many old ways that were, and in some areas still are, alive.

What role did Galician music and culture play in resisting Franco?

The role it played during the war and the dictatorship was mostly to be in exile, hidden in the villages and the taverns, where people sang and played percussion with spoons and gardening tools.
Franco prohibited Galician language, and he was a Galician himself (only geographically speaking), so it is not only that it was forbidden to sing in Galician, but even to speak it.

Galician teachers were sent to the south of Spain, while southern teachers were sent to Galicia, in order to prevent the children to even learn the proper grammer, because at home, the Galician language was alive, but the blow that the language and culture suffered back then still has effects today.

Where do you find lyrical inspiration, and how does the writing process happen in the band?

I try to dig it up from my own most of the time, but of course I get a lot of collateral inspiration by countless sources. I don’t think I can name a specific tangible something from where I find most of my inspiration.

The writing process is on me, and often we do arrangements together. The process happens usually by surprise, but you know as Picasso said, “inspiration always catches me at work.” With this I mean that I play my instruments a lot, and when not, I sing to myself and my dog very much too, so I think that sentence applies very much to the creative process, and inspiration catches you often with the brush or the instrument or whatever is your tool, in hand.

You play in a huge range of venues, from opera hall to metal venues, why have you chosen to have such a diverse community?

That is something not chosen at all, it just happened and it is something I’m very glad about. A beautiful diversity of people in front of the stage feels very good.

I don’t really know, but after all, we are people that come from many little corners of the musical and cultural world, and some of us have been active for a long time.

I myself grew up with a lot of folk around me and at the same time deep into the anarcho/punk/diy community of music and counterculture, which in the 90s offered some of the most eclectic and interesting music that a scene had to offer, from metal to rock to experimental music. Georg comes from a more metal background, and Erik from a lot of rock and psychedelia, for example, just to mention some of us… and after all, we play folk music!

How do you see the band relating to the struggle for liberation and autonomy?

I sing with all my heart for liberation and autonomy. And at a personal level, the band exists as a product of the struggle for liberation and autonomy.

Do you think it is important for bands to create an inclusive space and stand against bigotry?

Yes. Very much. Bands and everyone in general.

What’s coming next? What tours, albums, collaborations or anything should people be looking out for?

Next is a good winter solstice ritual of magic and music.

We are as well working on our songs for our next album, which will be recorded in February 2020, then on tour through Europe in March, and hopefully for that time we will have in our hands our next release which is a Split Lp with Monarch. We have also some single shows popping up here and there… stay tuned.

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We feature Sangre de Muerdago heavily on the Antifascist Neofolk Playlist on Spotify, and will continue to add more tracks as they are released. Below are several albums from their Bandcamp, and stay tuned as we spotlight upcoming releases, tours, and collaborations!

A Story on the Wind: An Interview With Anna Vo

There is a magickal experimentation in Anna Vo’s twelve-string guitar, a mix of chimes and voices and echo and wind. The tapestry they brings together is a form of circular and rythmic narrative, part of personal inspiration and the influences of the Vietnamese diaspora, Buddhist prayer traditions, and a well of energy from around the world. There is often a high-concept at play in their work, such as the cycles of grief and mourning, but it never strays from the deep emotional fountain that feeds it.

We spoke with Anna Vo about their work and the antifascist label they has started developing to create an intentional counter-culture for marginalized artists to emerge in.

How did you first begin as a musician, how did your creative space come together?

I was bed-bound with a spinal injury for many months, which gave me the perspective of finally doing something that mattered to me that I had previously stifled.

Due to how I was socialized, I had centered my work and output around other people (like my record label) and deferring to their creative control (playing in anarcho-crust bands with white dudes) and it took this injury for me to take steps towards centering my own voice and creative desire. For example, I borrowed my housemate’s janky laptop and ordered two pedals online and when they arrived I started writing music horizontal, playing guitar from bed.

How did your current musical project come together? Is it mainly just you as a solo performer, or do you work with collaborators?

It is a solo project that I have been tinkering with for several years, each person I’ve invited as a collaborator, usually about a week before the recording dates, and usually without any pre-writing or rehearsal. My work is largely improvisation-based, and I field record things that interest me in my environment for textures.

What bands inspired you in doing the work?

The only band or person that I had heard of that plays guitar in a similar fashion is John Fahey. I only play 12 string guitar, and he is definitely my primary role model in that regard. He also writes pretty far out, honest, cool short stories. I’m self-taught, I have no musical schooling, and I purposely sing “kind of badly”/discordantly. I was not permitted to play music growing up as a teenager, so my time bed-bound was the most formative in my music practice.

How did you develop your sound, and how do you define it?

I would say I’m accidentally influenced by the circular, meditative structures of Buddhist prayer that I was exposed to by my grandmother taking me to temple, and the Vietnamese pop music my parents listened to, which was predominantly formulated after US troops exposed Vietnamese people to 60s rock and folk. There are parallels between artists like Simon and Garfunkel, and Vietnamese popular music. Sadness was and is a common tone for the Viet diaspora, whether we are talking about “post-war” music, or other inter-generational Viet art.

You live in the Pacific Northwest now, does that region influence your music, or is it pulled together from international spaces?

I’m from New Zealand, and my albums were mainly in places outside of the PNW. I’ve only lived in the States a few years, and actually found it more difficult to find places to play given that my music doesn’t clearly fit into the “noise” scene, or the neofolk scene. Being from Aoteoroa (NZ) has aesthetic relations with living in the PNW (and its associated localized patriotism): namely majestic landscapes and lush woodland.

What does the album The Condition come from, what’s the overarching theme?

It is made of of 9 songs, 3 x 3 songs, 3 parts or movements with afore-mentioned circular structure. The first refers to a mourning period, reflection and scrutiny. The second part is a zooming out of time and space, looking at the scale of a lifetime; and the third continues to zoom out and considers intergenerational ramifications beyond smaller incidents of trauma. The last track is designed to play into the first track again, aesthetically and thematically, and the record works as a 9 track prayer or meditation on the nature of the human condition.

There is a strong sense of anti-patriarchal spirit in the work, what issues and forces inspire the music?

I’m not sure how that spirit is evident, but I appreciate the observation. I’m non-binary, and like most categorizations I believe gender is restrictive in our we conceptualize our experiences and knowledge. Perhaps inherent in the work is *my* spirit, which is outwardly not patriarchal?

How has your music changed over the years? What instruments do you regularly use?

I mainly use 12-string guitar, and a collection of field recordings I have made in different spaces – the ocean, the city, on volcanoes. I play in bands, which is separate from this project- where I use my body/voice/presence, and also electric guitar, drums and several instruments I have built.

Your lyrics and singing border on spoken word poetry at times, what themes draw you together and how do you write your songs?

I think of music as collage, and I don’t know much about songwriting or classically structured musical works, so I would say that my approach typically looks like layers being placed adjacent and over one another until there is a narrative of some sore. Each layer or piece can be the chirping of a cricket, the chatter of children, or my mumbling something about whatever is on my mind at the time.

What drives your commitment to antifascism? Have you experienced a lot of white supremacist attitudes in the pagan and neofolk scene?

I started my label as a black metal and doom label in Australia over 10 years ago because the metal scene there defaults to white supremacy, which culturally invisibilizes the conversation. I wanted to visibilize the dichotomy, whilst creating visible space for people with similar tastes in music, who did not want to actively participate in what was an automatic state of white supremacy. That’s the cultural answer to your question. The personal answer is that through my lived experience, through myself and my parents/family being targeted daily, and through us being immigrants and refugees, we are not given a choice in being anti-racist and anti-fascist. To not make that choice, to default to dominant culture, and shrug my shoulders and promote hipster apathy is antithesis to my existence, and betrays my being.

The answer to the second question is yes. In various continents, and in ways that include and extend beyond militarized fascism. The obvious is that there are people present at shows and in music scenes who are parts of organized groups of people who work to intentionally and violently vicitimize people of color and queer people. The less obvious is when those same people go under the radar. Specifically I would like to call to attention the scenes I have been a part of where the very existence of punk or metal are politically suppressed – and going to a show and playing in a band means staring down the barrel of a rifle held my military government officials. My point is that fascism is a broad term that defines many states (as you know) including racism and including dictatorship, and I want to be clear that I am referring to a broad range of types of fascism, and its presence and relationship to music (and art).

Why is it not enough to be “not racist” or “not fascist?”

I believe you already know the answer to this question. Mainly that it is not a choice for me to not be anti-fascist.

Why do you think it is important to be a publicly antifascist band? How does antifascism inform your music?

See above re: the formation of the label. As a person I was silenced through my formative years when in punk and metal scenes attempting to address racism and casual fascism in music communities. So instead of trying to be heard or validated by others, I made clear and public my stance, in order to attract like-minded people to me. Which worked.

What’s coming next for you?

I’m releasing an anti-fascist Swedish band called Lands Sorg in August, and I hope to record a new solo album this coming winter: if grad school and my visual art career allows.

I also am in a duo as drummer and co-vocalist with Marit on viola. Marit also plays in Sangre De Muerdago, Cinderwell, Ekstasis and a billion other bands. We haven’t named the project yet.

What other bands do you recommend for antifascist neofolk fans?

Good question! I enjoy Cinderwell and Sangre De Muerdago.

What kind of bands are on the label and how are they strung together?

There are 33 releases on the label, and they are from 5 continents, and anti-fascist. They comprise of some established and well-known bands, and include lesser-known bands as a platform for them. The label highlights and seeks to include anti-fascist queer and trans people, people of color, women internationally.

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Anna Vo’s label is An Our Recordings, and hosts many antifascist doom/black metal/neofolk bands like Ragana, Thou, and Nightwitches. We are putting some of their releases below, Vo has been incredibly prolific and has ten releases on their Bandcamp. Anna is unfortunately not on Spotify yet so we cannot add them to the Antifascist Neofolk Playlist on Spotify, but we are adding several other great tracks (and have added some recent ones, like Elk), so you should check it out!

Sangre de Muerdago’s Galician Neofolk is Resistance to Spain’s Fascist History

Neofolk branches out in such a multitude of sub-genres that there is no singular “scene,” but the bands are bound together by rootedness in folk tradition and its revival from the modern stage. English speaking and Western European acts, defined by bands like Death in June, are often used as the best example of neofolk, but there is a wider musical world focused more concretely on traditional sounds and the use of folk traditions for far more than just nationalist romanticism.

Since we started A Blaze Ansuz, Sangre de Muerdago has been out most requested ban, and their reputation is so large it almost feels insulting to describe them so briefly. A Galician Folk band from Galincia region of Spain, which borders Portugal on the northwest side, Sangre de Muerdago has become a giant of independent neofolk, touring worldwide with their soft brand of regional music that is haunting in its lyrics and acoustic persistence. As a way to counter modern technological society, Sangre de Muerdago revives traditional instruments like classical guitars, nyckelharpa, flute, celtic harp, occasional percussions, into something new and patient, calling back a distant memory of culture based on family bonds and the centrality of the home. Anarcho-punk is where the band finds its roots, they play with those bands often and share members with that scene, and so while they resurrect a very different sound, that anarchistic spirit is on stage with them.

Sangre de Muerdago revolves around front-person Pablo Ursusson, and the band has had shifting line-ups over the years. Each song has such a crafted feel, such quiet love and shifting instrumentation, that it has to be the collective voice of the entire band Sangre de Muerdago, which translates to “Blood of Mistletoe,” is also known for its international appeal, traveling worldwide and collaborating with other artists. This creates a range of venues, from black metal festivals to seated opera halls, and their appeal has gone so far that they are internationally recognized as champions of folk music. Many of their collaborations have become legendary, such as with Tacoma, Washington neofolk band Novemthree, and their genre defining sound has made them the most dependable features of the neofolk scene since their 2007 debut demo.

Their most recent album Noite, released on April 26th of this year, is in full form, calling to a dream of your “true self.” Singing is sparse when there(so is any percussion), and they choose to avoid English in most cases to buck the trend of European neofolk bands appealing to English speaking audiences. Part of this focus on Galician language is a form of cultural resistance to the Franco fascist dictatorship, which limited the language and narrowed its availability.

Screen Shot 2019-04-28 at 10.34.46 PM — A painting that the band posted online with a message of support for women fighting oppression.

My reason to speak and sing in Galician is that to sing this music that I write from the depths of my heart, this is the deepest way I can find to feel it is singing Galician. I don’t think I would feel the same way about the songs if I were to sing them in English, or Spanish, for example…The language was very damaged during the dictatorship. Brutally damaged. All the teachers from Galicia were sent to other parts of Spain to teach in Spanish and Castellano. And then they would bring teachers from the south and other parts of the country to teach the Galician kids in Castellano. And all the smaller languages spoken in other areas like Basque, Catalan, or Galician, suffered a lot.

These Galincia poems on love, death, and history draw on that almost lost tradition, and the DIY approach of Sangre de Muerdago is meant to recapture something organic from the community.

The lyrics of Sangre are very melancholic, and they long for something, but they always intend to empower people. It’s not like a desperate cry. We all have sorrow, we all have sadness, but we have to somehow process it, and then make it our fuel. It’s something that keeps my head busy

With this Pablo Urusson acknowledges that Galician music has always been political, a way of using regional autonomy to fight off the forces of the far-right and imperialism. This is similar to the left-wing elements in Catalonia that have resisted both nationalism and the overarching militarism of the Franco dictatorship. They are amazingly open in their support of left-wing revolutionary movements, particularly the struggle against patriarchy,

[F]olk music in Galicia has always been political. Galician folk music became the music of people against the empire and against oppression. For centuries—against the Roman Empire, against the Spanish State, against so many things. So somehow the punks in Galicia are very into folk music.

Galincia’s music didn’t survive without an open revolt, and Sangre de Muerdago is continuing the revival of a tradition that is usually passed between the hands of family members and is alive in the moments when the community finds itself in the relationships it builds;

Lyrically, Sangre de Muerdago is committed to liberation from the mountains of Spain, something they have found in common with other anti-fascist bands like Panopticon and Dawn Ray’d, who they have shared the stage with at places like the Roadburn Festival. When they take the stage the audience drops to silent attention, and a dark oasis is formed where they can finally be vulnerable.

We are putting a few albums by Sangre de Muerdago below and we have added several tracks to our Antifascist Neofolk Spotify playlist and check out the other Bandcamp tracks here.