Rita
05.09.2004, 19:59
Pop and Tribulation
They have opened a bottle of white wine, the time is 1:30 p.m., son True August (5) is playing at kindergarten.
"We're getting down to the wire. It's rather stressful to release an album. Would you like cranberry juice? 'Tropical,' maybe?"
Paul Waaktaar Savøy opens his refrigerator. And his villa in Vindern, in the western part of Oslo.
Wife Lauren begins to talk about why she still loves him.
"No one saw him. There was no one who understood Paul. Except for me. It was only us two. When we made this album, I saw the Paul who was difficult, the Paul people feared. But they have never understood how loving he is. I still love that part of Paul. His sense of humor. An unbelievable humor."
It is 20 years ago. It was a night in 1984. It was winter. London's most vulgar discotheque, the Hippodrome. Lauren thought he looked like a Martian. Pål stared at her, he had a mass of white hair and extremely made-up eyes.
Lauren wasn't interested in talking. But he just stuck out his hand. "Pål," he said.
He was 22. She, 19. The Jewish girl from Boston was in London to study art history, she was supposed to return home soon. Pål was deathly pale, from Manglerud, and was going to be a pop star.
"That's what everyone said at the time. 'Exceptional,' I thought to myself."
They became sweethearts. And then she left. Paul got a telephone bill for £2,000.
In the pocket of his leather pants he had £3.
"She talked so much that I got a headache. But for the songs I wrote, the separation was good," says Paul.
A couple of international hit songs came out of that.
"You must have loved me," says Lauren.
"Yes," says Paul.
She became "the disciple," and "the wife of Paul in a-ha." She became Yoko Ono.
"Yes, I was Yoko Ono. But not now. I understood the comparison then. But I have heard enough of that "Paul and his old lady" business. Now I deserve respect for what I have created."
Monday the 'family band' Savoy released its fifth album.
"Lauren has written the catchiest tune on the album. It irritates the pants off of me," smiles Paul. He is 43 and in love.
"This is our cabin," says Paul.
'The cabin' is a milti-million crown property. The family Savoy live in New York most of the time. They bought the house in Oslo in 1992 for 3.8 million crowns, today its value has multiplied several times over. It is here inside the kitchen that Lauren says:
"Great! I will tell you one thing . . ."
"What?"
"No, don't tell it," says Paul.
He shakes his head, nudges his wife slightly.
"Have you been through something difficult?"
"Yes," says Lauren.
"But that's life, sort of," says Paul. "Things happen. There are things you have to deal with."
"How dramatic was it?"
"Well . . . So, Lauren has had a tough time over the last few years."
"That's how it goes. It is a part of living. We don't want to go into it any more than that."
Something is left hanging in the air. Paul has begun to play guitar, he has gone inside himself.
"I'm sorry if we seem strange," says Lauren.
"That's OK."
"One thing for certain is that it's a kind of therapy to play in Savoy," says Lauren.
They are sitting on the floor, against the wall.
"There is a fine line. Between the pleasurable and the painful. They stand right up against one another," says Paul.
He pours more wine. Around his neck hangs a locket with a photo of his son, True August.
"What did you fall for, Lauren?"
"Good question. There was no one who saw the very kind, the very sexy Paul. Yes, and this intense, romantic side of him."
Paul says:
"I was head over heels. I wrote two to three letters a day. It was a kind of obsession."
But we are here to talk about the album, aren't we?" says Paul.
They are affected by having lived in Manhattan when the terror and the war began.
"Our son should have begun school this fall. But we are waiting until next year. We have to decide whether we will continue to live in New York. There are other places. We will see what kind of feedback we get from our son."
True August Waaktaar Savoy. 'Augie,' they call him. He turned five in August.
"Are you afraid?"
"Yes. There are people who say straight out that if Bush is re-elected, they'll move out. I've never heard anything like this from Americans before. Well, there will of course always be a certain number of crazies one is afraid of, but . . . " says Paul.
"It isn't safe to live in New York. We can't let Augie go outside. We don't turn our backs to him. Living in New York makes me paranoid. Nervous," says Lauren.
In Vinderen, Oslo, everyone is safe.
"I like the Norwegian vibe. It has taken away some of my craziness. I speak three decibles lower. And I think Norwegians are polite."
"You think so? I think Americans are polite," says Paul.
The opening track on Savoy's first album, Daylight's Wasting, was Paul's reckoning with Morten Harket. It was splashed over the entire front page of VG, showing a photo of the two of them torn down the middle.
"I was religiously loyal to a-ha. But we finished with all that business a long time ago," says Paul.
While Magne and Morten felt devastated at one point, Paul stood there there, steadfast.
"The others took the brunt. Morten always had the pressure on him. Magne was the skater, he outran a lot of it. I came through it safe and sound."
"Do you know how much you have earned?"
"I have the figures for how much I've lost. We were definitely taken advantage of."
Paul has earlier estimated that a-ha lost 70 million crowns (about 8,400 euros, £5,700, or $10,100) just on the sales of books and posters.
But he is a multi-millionaire, even so, today.
Think back to 1985. a-ha being driven around London in a limousine that has electrified door handles. When over-enthusiastic fans try to tear open the doors, they get a shock. a-ha is bigger than Madonna. Has eight singles in the top 10 in England. Take On Me is Number One in 22 countries, some say the boys earned 50 million crowns that year alone. Paul looked out of the window, he had sunglsses on, kept a straight face. While Morten Harket flashed his biceps, Paul sat there with his hair full of hair spray, silent, and looked as if he longed for home.
"Paul is so ambitious, the music has been like an illness for him. He is the most goal-oriented person I have ever met," Lauren often has said.
"When you want something with all your heart, you get it. It is a fantastic quality. I have gotten it from Paul. And I hope our boy has gotten it."
"Paul holds me together. You thought maybe it was the other way around. That I take care of the guy. It is the opposite. I need Paul. He takes care of me. I am mentally completely on the edge sometimes. A trembling soul."
She laughs.
"Don't say that," says Paul.
"Yes, but I'm not normal."
They sit on the floor.She has on a brown dress, and he, a brown shirt.
"How much has your shyness hampered you, Paul?"
"It took me a long time to learn to carry on a conversation. But it used to be worse. I have certainly gotten help from Lauren to open up."
Riots at airports, the screaming girls in Japan, the 94,000 at the concert in Rio, he always appeared unaffected.
"I have gone to the School of Hard Knocks," says Paul.
"I couldn't believe how uptight he was. My sisters said: 'What do you see in him? He doesn't say a word.'"
"Yes, but there wasn't room to talk," says Paul.
"Oh yes, there were plenty of opportunities."
"Yes, but you interrupted me."
..to be continued....
They have opened a bottle of white wine, the time is 1:30 p.m., son True August (5) is playing at kindergarten.
"We're getting down to the wire. It's rather stressful to release an album. Would you like cranberry juice? 'Tropical,' maybe?"
Paul Waaktaar Savøy opens his refrigerator. And his villa in Vindern, in the western part of Oslo.
Wife Lauren begins to talk about why she still loves him.
"No one saw him. There was no one who understood Paul. Except for me. It was only us two. When we made this album, I saw the Paul who was difficult, the Paul people feared. But they have never understood how loving he is. I still love that part of Paul. His sense of humor. An unbelievable humor."
It is 20 years ago. It was a night in 1984. It was winter. London's most vulgar discotheque, the Hippodrome. Lauren thought he looked like a Martian. Pål stared at her, he had a mass of white hair and extremely made-up eyes.
Lauren wasn't interested in talking. But he just stuck out his hand. "Pål," he said.
He was 22. She, 19. The Jewish girl from Boston was in London to study art history, she was supposed to return home soon. Pål was deathly pale, from Manglerud, and was going to be a pop star.
"That's what everyone said at the time. 'Exceptional,' I thought to myself."
They became sweethearts. And then she left. Paul got a telephone bill for £2,000.
In the pocket of his leather pants he had £3.
"She talked so much that I got a headache. But for the songs I wrote, the separation was good," says Paul.
A couple of international hit songs came out of that.
"You must have loved me," says Lauren.
"Yes," says Paul.
She became "the disciple," and "the wife of Paul in a-ha." She became Yoko Ono.
"Yes, I was Yoko Ono. But not now. I understood the comparison then. But I have heard enough of that "Paul and his old lady" business. Now I deserve respect for what I have created."
Monday the 'family band' Savoy released its fifth album.
"Lauren has written the catchiest tune on the album. It irritates the pants off of me," smiles Paul. He is 43 and in love.
"This is our cabin," says Paul.
'The cabin' is a milti-million crown property. The family Savoy live in New York most of the time. They bought the house in Oslo in 1992 for 3.8 million crowns, today its value has multiplied several times over. It is here inside the kitchen that Lauren says:
"Great! I will tell you one thing . . ."
"What?"
"No, don't tell it," says Paul.
He shakes his head, nudges his wife slightly.
"Have you been through something difficult?"
"Yes," says Lauren.
"But that's life, sort of," says Paul. "Things happen. There are things you have to deal with."
"How dramatic was it?"
"Well . . . So, Lauren has had a tough time over the last few years."
"That's how it goes. It is a part of living. We don't want to go into it any more than that."
Something is left hanging in the air. Paul has begun to play guitar, he has gone inside himself.
"I'm sorry if we seem strange," says Lauren.
"That's OK."
"One thing for certain is that it's a kind of therapy to play in Savoy," says Lauren.
They are sitting on the floor, against the wall.
"There is a fine line. Between the pleasurable and the painful. They stand right up against one another," says Paul.
He pours more wine. Around his neck hangs a locket with a photo of his son, True August.
"What did you fall for, Lauren?"
"Good question. There was no one who saw the very kind, the very sexy Paul. Yes, and this intense, romantic side of him."
Paul says:
"I was head over heels. I wrote two to three letters a day. It was a kind of obsession."
But we are here to talk about the album, aren't we?" says Paul.
They are affected by having lived in Manhattan when the terror and the war began.
"Our son should have begun school this fall. But we are waiting until next year. We have to decide whether we will continue to live in New York. There are other places. We will see what kind of feedback we get from our son."
True August Waaktaar Savoy. 'Augie,' they call him. He turned five in August.
"Are you afraid?"
"Yes. There are people who say straight out that if Bush is re-elected, they'll move out. I've never heard anything like this from Americans before. Well, there will of course always be a certain number of crazies one is afraid of, but . . . " says Paul.
"It isn't safe to live in New York. We can't let Augie go outside. We don't turn our backs to him. Living in New York makes me paranoid. Nervous," says Lauren.
In Vinderen, Oslo, everyone is safe.
"I like the Norwegian vibe. It has taken away some of my craziness. I speak three decibles lower. And I think Norwegians are polite."
"You think so? I think Americans are polite," says Paul.
The opening track on Savoy's first album, Daylight's Wasting, was Paul's reckoning with Morten Harket. It was splashed over the entire front page of VG, showing a photo of the two of them torn down the middle.
"I was religiously loyal to a-ha. But we finished with all that business a long time ago," says Paul.
While Magne and Morten felt devastated at one point, Paul stood there there, steadfast.
"The others took the brunt. Morten always had the pressure on him. Magne was the skater, he outran a lot of it. I came through it safe and sound."
"Do you know how much you have earned?"
"I have the figures for how much I've lost. We were definitely taken advantage of."
Paul has earlier estimated that a-ha lost 70 million crowns (about 8,400 euros, £5,700, or $10,100) just on the sales of books and posters.
But he is a multi-millionaire, even so, today.
Think back to 1985. a-ha being driven around London in a limousine that has electrified door handles. When over-enthusiastic fans try to tear open the doors, they get a shock. a-ha is bigger than Madonna. Has eight singles in the top 10 in England. Take On Me is Number One in 22 countries, some say the boys earned 50 million crowns that year alone. Paul looked out of the window, he had sunglsses on, kept a straight face. While Morten Harket flashed his biceps, Paul sat there with his hair full of hair spray, silent, and looked as if he longed for home.
"Paul is so ambitious, the music has been like an illness for him. He is the most goal-oriented person I have ever met," Lauren often has said.
"When you want something with all your heart, you get it. It is a fantastic quality. I have gotten it from Paul. And I hope our boy has gotten it."
"Paul holds me together. You thought maybe it was the other way around. That I take care of the guy. It is the opposite. I need Paul. He takes care of me. I am mentally completely on the edge sometimes. A trembling soul."
She laughs.
"Don't say that," says Paul.
"Yes, but I'm not normal."
They sit on the floor.She has on a brown dress, and he, a brown shirt.
"How much has your shyness hampered you, Paul?"
"It took me a long time to learn to carry on a conversation. But it used to be worse. I have certainly gotten help from Lauren to open up."
Riots at airports, the screaming girls in Japan, the 94,000 at the concert in Rio, he always appeared unaffected.
"I have gone to the School of Hard Knocks," says Paul.
"I couldn't believe how uptight he was. My sisters said: 'What do you see in him? He doesn't say a word.'"
"Yes, but there wasn't room to talk," says Paul.
"Oh yes, there were plenty of opportunities."
"Yes, but you interrupted me."
..to be continued....