Nina Persson: Queen of Camp

Nearly two decades later, what appears most alarming about Nina Persson is how cool she remains, despite being the memorable lark behind one of the 1990s' biggest hit singles -- as one-fifth of The Cardigans. Since then, she’s gone onto crash cars and intimate fractured fairy tales with her band. But during a 2001 hiatus, she and husband Nathan Larson serendipitously crossed paths with Atomic Swing’s Niclas Frisk and were inspired to set up camp as, well, A Camp. And having enjoyed modest European success with their debut, A Camp is eyeing an American conquest with Colonia, released at the end of April, with an American tour kicking off at New York’s Bowery Ballroom on May 26. But she's taken some time out to discuss the perils of one-hit wonders, colonialism, and the driving force behind her band's latest.

Right now you live in New York?
I live in Harlem. We’ve lived here for a year and a half or two years. For us, the reason was that we wanted to buy a brownstone. That’s what we were after. We knew what kind of neighborhood we were after. We have no friends up here. There’s not a lot to do up here. It was kind of chance we wound up here. I feel like it’s a great thing. It’s something we can afford. There’s something refreshing about going home to a place where you hang out on your own terms.

When you’re not working on your music, how do you unwind?
I watch movies. We stay in quite a lot. I’m also into making head-dresses, like hats I’m going to make for the tour. We’ve also renovated our place now. Buying so much shit on eBay—furniture, lamps, doorknobs, pictures. I’ve sort of really gotten into it. I’ve got a lot of sales and have been collecting a lot of gold stars. Also, being a Swede and living here makes you really popular. We have a lot of visitors. Right now, my mom’s here, and it’s stressful that there’s always something going on.

Whether individually or as the lead singer for your bands, who are some icons you find inspiring?
It’s varied throughout my career. It’s been lucky to have role models to fit in with. I was a huge Harriet Wheeler [of The Sundays] fan. She was one of my first heroes. She was the one who I thought, “If she could be in a band, so can I!” Neil Young and Emmylou Harris also—they led me into looking into country music, which led me into making the first A Camp record. That was the first time I abandoned my previous minimalist aesthetic. I was more interested in being emotional in my performance and writing. Country music was a big discovery. Lately, by the time we were making this record—I had my big David Bowie period. I had a crush on him. I feel like I can copy any male thing and get away with it. I had a strangely eclectic world. I was also into Donna Summer and Joan Jett.

What’s the significance of the title Colonia?
We were talking about the strange phenomenon of colonialism, with Europeans going around the world claiming every place around the world. We were obsessing about that, interested in the aesthetic—it’s grossly alluring. I’ve been to Africa, but never in my life have I thought it would be an inspiration. I was there with a girlfriend of mine. Then, we thought of the word “colonia” because we thought it was gorgeous. We also had a fantasy that the record would provide a smell for each song—like a perfume. Like cologne. Like how some people see colors when they hear music. All of our fantasies would somehow, in our mind, be summed up in the word “colonia.”

What’s the biggest difference between the creative process with A Camp and The Cardigans?
What really makes it different to me is that The Cardigans is almost like a democracy—we share everything, like songwriting. In A Camp, I’m a third instead of a fifth. Also, I’m in the beginning and it’s more my band.

How do you keep them separate?
It’s more difficult for me that I constantly get reminded that I’m part of The Cardigans. For me, whichever project I’m focusing on is the only thing I can concentrate on. I believe I’m a goldfish—when I start a new Camp project, it’s the first one. But my luggage is there. Where it’s the only thing that matters.

Do you find your work with one band influencing your work with the other?
Very much. Whatever I do in A Camp is everything I learned while growing up in The Cardigans. There’s no way to pretend these personas are separate. Also when I had done A Camp record and done the tour and had a certain amount of success. And when I went back to The Cardigans, they were excited to take off from where I left off with A Camp.

Would you ever consider going completely solo, apart from A Camp or The Cardigans?
I can’t really do that. I was thinking about A Camp. It was a solo thing. The last record, we decided to work towards a band—I keep gravitating towards that. I may develop an idea that won’t need a band, but I really think the band form is quite excellent. I don’t play instruments particularly well. So out of necessity I needed a band. I’ve always liked it in a band.

As part of The Cardigans, why does the band choose to forgo playing “Lovefool”?
On the last tour, we brought it back. But there were a couple years where that song sounded like a joke. It would’ve been like playing a cover. We were getting very grumpy. We wanted people to know we had moved on. If that’s the only thing you want to hear, we’re sorry, we’ve moved on. But the last Cardigans record was aggressively pop and it took us back—and we didn’t have to make such a strong point later. There are a lot of bands that have one particular hit. You’re not really striving to be known for that one song.

In spite of everything, are you hoping for a breakout single with A Camp?
I don’t know. I feel like I’ve tried that level of success. I’m happy I’ve tasted it. It wasn’t the best part of my career. If it happens, it happens.