hackedepicciotto Renders Tumultuous Pandemic Year on The Silver Threshold

Photo Credit: Sven Marquardt

If there’s one song that truly encapsulates the frustration of life right now, it’s “Babel,” from hackedepicciotto’s latest album, The Silver Threshold. Over music that rises and falls with cinematic tension, Danielle de Picciotto tells the story of the Tower of Babel, of the construction of a building intended to reach heaven, of a God who splits their one language into many and of a people divided when they can no longer communicate. 

“All of our songs always deal a lot with our situation and the situation that we feel confronted with, in general, around us,” says de Picciotto, who is joined by Alexander Hacke, on a video call from the duo’s studio in Berlin. Since The Silver Threshold came together in the midst of the COVID-19 pandemic and a series of global upheavals that happened in 2020, that certainly played a part in the album’s evolution. 

“When we were writing it, I had the feeling for quite some time that people don’t seem to understand each other anymore,” de Picciotto explains. “As the pandemic progressed, that feeling got stronger and stronger. You had the feeling that you were talking to friends that you had known for your whole life and they just didn’t understand you anymore and you didn’t understand them.”

That situation reminded de Picciotto of the Tower of Babel story told in the book of Genesis (though there are parallels to the story throughout a variety of cultures). “I wasn’t raised religiously, but there were a couple of Bible stories that I always thought were interesting,” she says. “I very often have the feeling that we’re actually experiencing that which, in the Bible, was mentioned being in the very beginning.” She points out this is intended to be a contemporary commentary reflective of current global situations, asking the rhetorical question: “Do we realize that somehow, for some reason, we are in this state where we do not understand each other anymore?”

“That doesn’t mean enemies or people from different countries, but even your best friend,” she adds. “There’s something wrong in our communication and we have to figure that out again.”

When the pandemic hit, hackedepicciotto, as de Picciotto says, considered themselves “touring nomads,” though the couple had long been associated with Berlin. De Picciotto is a U.S. born multi-disciplinary artist who moved to Berlin in 1987 and co-founded the city’s infamous Love Parade. She’s also released a number of solo and collaborative albums, written multiple books, made several films and has had her art shown in galleries and museums in Europe and North America. Hacke was born in Berlin and was just a teenager when he joined Einstürzende Neubauten, who would go on to become legendary force in underground and experimental music. He’s also played with Crime and the City Solution and composed a number of film scores. 

The two have been collaborating on music together for 20 years now and, about a decade ago, they gave up their home and hit the road, mastering the ins-and-outs of checking gear onto planes as they played in various parts of the world. Their last album, The Current, was released in early 2020 and they had just begun a tour in support of that when the pandemic hit. Hacke recalls that he had planned to cancel the lease on their recording studio for that year, but had missed the deadline. It was “a very lucky coincidence,” he says. “Otherwise, if we hadn’t had that, we would have no place to hang out and work.” 

Their final pre-COVID gig was in Frankfurt. Back in Berlin, they caught up on sleep. “We weren’t jet-lagged for the first time in years,” jokes de Picciotto. They also gave virtual performances a chance, although it wasn’t really their thing. “We missed the interaction with the audience, so we didn’t go on doing that as long as we planned,” she says. 

“It is very different performing for an iPhone and a tripod than for people,” adds Hacke. 

Meanwhile, de Picciotto wrote another book and Hacke worked on film music. “We don’t participate in the Berlin nightlife as much as we used to anyway. We don’t go out drinking or anything like that, so we did not miss that,” says Hacke. “It was really a time to immerse yourself into things that you were only talking about doing in previous years.”

In the late summer of 2020, they started writing new material as hackedepicciotto. They also earned a grant to fund their work and were signed to Mute. “The stars were aligned in a good way,” says de Picciotto. 

Before they began recording at the end of 2020, they posed for a photo shoot with Sven Marquardt, an old friend of de Picciotto who is also well-known as the doorman at Berghain. “I always wanted him to take photos for our album, because I’ve done other shoots for him, but not of music,” says de Picciotto. While they don’t normally take press photos before recording the album, they did this time because of concerns of another lockdown. 

“It really influenced us,” says de Picciotto of the film shoot, which became the basis of the music video for “Kirchhain.” “He works with analog cameras and only works with daylight. In that way, his pictures have this incredible aura and that really helped us with our music.”

“Also, he projects this authority,” adds Hacke. “You cannot bullshit him. He looks straight through you and that’s what makes the pictures great, because you have to be yourself.”

Photo Credit: Sven Marquardt

The Silver Threshold is designed so that each song goes up a key in the scale, beginning with D. The music is as reflective of the tempestuousness of 2020 as the lyrics. Take “Babel” as an example. “We work with strategies to illustrate conflict, like rhythms counteracting to each other and stuff like that,” says Hacke. “It gives you a feeling of uneasiness or a feeling of [being] out-of-whack. Rhythmically, I like to do these things, stuff that makes you lose your balance or something.”

The album also includes hackedpicciotto’s first love song, “Evermore,” a duet that came as a result of the lockdown situation and sounds as if the couple are singing to each other while caught in the midst of downpour. “We had that feeling that this pandemic was a storm that came upon mankind and we were all standing in this storm,” says de Picciotto. “We felt that the most important thing during the storm was to keep in contact with your friends and loved ones… because everybody was so separated. It was us two and, during the whole time of the pandemic when lockdown was really heavy, we felt like it was us two standing in this tiny little nutshell, which was our studio, and the storm raging around us and the only thing that kept us alive in the storm was our love.”

With “Evermore,” they brought the connection that they share into the lyrics. Says Hacke, “This is the first time that we also actually speak to each other lyrically, rather than describing something or proclaiming something to the outside world.”

The Silver Threshold, and “Evermore” in particular, taps into a chemistry that has always been part of their collaboration as hackedepicciotto. “I think that what makes this project work so well is that we are so confident and we trust each other so much,” says Hacke, surmising that it’s this kind of honesty that appeals to fans. “It’s a different set up than a regular band in that way.”

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PLAYING MELBOURNE: Anita Lane Leaves A Legacy of Post-Punk Art Rock Brilliance

“Bury me high up
Up on that mountain
Bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao,
Bury me high up
Up on that mountain
And let a flower mark my grave”

– Anita Lane, “Bella Ciao”

Anita Lane, courtesy Mute Records.

Anita Lane was an exceptional talent – a songwriter, a singer, a creative powerhouse. The greatest pity of her lifetime and now, after her passing, is that she is often referred to only in relation to the men she co-wrote and duetted with, but in the interests of karmically restoring the universe to rights and doing justice to Anita’s legacy, here is why you ought to spend a few hours at least indulging in her prolific work.

Born in March, 1960 in Melbourne, Lane was clever and musically gifted. While a student at the Prahran College of Advanced Education in Melbourne’s inner south, she began writing songs and singing in her mid-teens. This was also where she befriended Rowland S. Howard – the iconic post-punk guitarist most commonly associated with The Birthday Party and The Bad Seeds.

Still a teenager, Lane met Nick Cave in 1977 when he was fronting The Boys Next Door, a seminal Australian post-punk band featuring Cave’s schoolmates from Caulfield Grammar: Mick Harvey on guitar, Tracy Pew on bass, and Phill Calvert on drums. The two began an on-off romantic relationship that lasted another 10 years, but it was their powerful co-writing relationship that was epic and memorable. The following year in 1978, Lane’s schoolfriend Rowland S. Howard joined the band on lead guitar and, riding the popularity of post-punk, frenetic guitar and furied lyrics over immense walls of feedback fuzz, the band moved to London in 1980, freshly renamed The Birthday Party.

Their debut 1981 album Prayers on Fire featured “A Dead Song,” co-written by Lane and Cave. She also co-wrote “Dead Joe” and “Kiss Me Black” on their sophomore album Junkyard (1982), released the same year the band and Lane moved to Berlin just before breaking up in 1983.

“Kiss Me Black” epitomises the best of The Birthday Party – clattering percussion like starving cats released into a drum set, Cave’s gothic baritone shifting between hollow cries and frenzied, almost shouted pleas and accusations. Chugging bass drives the whole bloodied, brilliant body of a song while snaggle-toothed guitars take savage bites into the melody.

Lane went on to join Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds on keyboards and vocals. The band comprised ex-Birthday Party member Mick Harvey, Barry Adamson, Hugo Race and Blixa Bargeld. Most notably, she co-wrote the beautiful, tragic “From Her To Eternity,” also the title of the band’s 1984 debut album. She left the band soon after, but would continue to co-write with Bargeld for both the Bad Seeds and Bargeld’s other band, Einstürzende Neubauten. She would later feature on Einstürzende Neubauten’s sixth album Tabula Rasa (1993) both as a co-writer and vocalist on a couple of tracks, including “Blume.”

In 1986, she co-wrote “Stranger Than Kindness” with Bargeld, which appeared on Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds’ Your Funeral… My Trial. It is a glorious, jangling, delicate beast of a song that reveals the significantly mellowed yang to The Birthday Party’s frenetic yin. The same title was given to an exhibition of Nick Cave’s life and work in 2020 and to a book released to align with the exhibition.

In 1988, Lane sang vocals on the soundtrack to Australian gothic western movie Ghosts…of the Civil Dead, which Bargeld, Cave and Harvey scored. The same year, she also provided vocals on the German post-punk band Die Haut’s Headless Body in Topless Bar album. She’d also duet with Kid Congo Powers on Die Haut’s Head On album of 1992.

One of her most wonderful collaborative outings was with Mick Harvey on his Serge Gainsbourg tribute album Intoxicated Man in 1995 and again on his second Gainsbourg-inspired album Pink Elephants in 1997. She sounds so gorgeously young and louche on “Harley Davidson” when she claims to be a “hell hound.” “I don’t need anyone on my Harley Davidson,” she sings, “If I die tonight, it’s my destiny, I’m alright.”

All the while, Lane had been in the process of recording her debyut solo album; Dirty Pearl was released in 1993 after a decade in the making. It opens with another devastating and beautiful Harvey co-write, “Jesus Almost Got Me,” a divinely gothic ballad in which the country-folk guitar is tempered by solemnly poetic lyrics (“Love is cruel/Love is truly absurd/Jesus almost got me/I don’t know how many prayers he overheard”).

Four of its tracks were originally released on a 4-track EP called Dirty Sings in 1988. Adamson, Cave and Thomas Wydler (of both the Bad Seeds and Die Haut) perform on these, along with Mick Harvey, who also produced it. She sounds breathy, sad, like there’s only a thread holding her to this earth and yet, there’s something primal and sacred in her shameless femininity. Even surrounded by men, or perhaps because she is, she embraces the elements of girlhood and womanhood in her voice, her writing and her videos. One moment she is delicate and complicit, the next she is scarily knowing, determinedly solitary.

The album also features her solo versions of some of her best co-writes, like “Blume,” along with a brilliant, quite creepy, cover of “Sexual Healing.” You’ll never hear the song the same again; the same is true of her 1991 collaboration with Barry Adamson on their version of “These Boots Are Made For Walkin’.” Anita Lane put an indelible mark on everything she touched.

Her second solo studio album was also produced by Harvey. Released in 2001, Sex O’Clock was a little less jangly, primitive and arty. Instead, it embraced greater melodic hooks and pop  elements, though Lane’s deadpan, sardonic approach to lyrics and vocals was ever present. Pop Matters referred to her as “the female Leonard Cohen.” Track names like “Home Is Where the Hatred Is,” “I Hate Myself” and “The Petrol Wife” contrasted with the almost sunny, laidback album cover image of Lane swinging an umbrella as she gazes, smiling, to the horizon.

Lane was a bit of a nomad, as many musicians were in the ‘80s and ‘90s, and still are. She moved from London to Berlin, then later lived in New York and Sydney before returning to Berlin in the late 1980s. She married a German man, Johannes Beck, and had her son Raphael in 1990, before that relationship ended four years later and she moved to Morocco. She had two sons to her Italian partner, Luciano (born in 1995) and Carlito (1998).

Melbourne reclaimed her in 2008, when she returned to live in the suburb of Glen Iris, where she’d grown up. Last year, she moved to Collingwood at the same time that I was packing up to leave it, and remained there until her death in April, aged 61. She isn’t the first nor will she be the last woman to be shrunk down, becoming merely the “muse” to the men around her, but let’s hope, at least in this case, that Melbourne names a lane after her, or erects a statue, or both. Vale Anita Lane.