Amoeba Music

International Harvester - Biography

Let’s face it. When we (i.e., Norte Americanos) think of Sweden in the 1960s, a simple image pops into our lizard brains: lithesome, barely legal blond girls, and abject sexual license. I Am Curious, Yellow and I Am Curious, Blue. You know, naughty bits, as the English say. And maybe Max von Sydow playing chess with Death. But Sweden had its own dystopian dilemmas in the 1960s, not entirely dissimilar to those faced by Britain in the 1970s. The densely woven fabric of state socialism came at a cost: blunt and brutish urbanization, and the sacrifice of a vaguely pastoral national identity in favor of a prole-ish submission to concrete megaliths, as urbanization asserted itself. As successive waves of rock ‘n’ roll washed out from the US and UK onto foreign shores – first based on rhythm ‘n’ blues (the Rolling Stones), then on droning experimentation (the Velvet Underground) – various musicians in European nations absorbed the sounds, then filtered them through their own unique and peculiar social scenarios and self identities. In jackboot-repressed Czeckoslovakia, there were the freaked-out stylings of the Plastic People of the Universe; in Germany, there were the communal drones of Amon Duul, sounds that opened the door for Krautrock. In Sweden, it was definitely International Harvester.

The initial version of the band was formed as Pärson Sound in 1967, and consisted of: Thomas Tidholm on vocals, saxophone and flute; Bo Anders Persson on guitar; Torbjörn Abelli on bass; Thomas Mera Gartz on drums; Ericsson on cello; Urban Yman on violin. They recorded, but these weren’t released until 2001, which is a shame. The eponymous Pärson Sound (2001 Subliminal Sounds) is one of the better albums of the 1960s, and it gets a jump on the Krautrock scene by several years – although it’s easy to imagine why no one could deal with it at the time. These guys were into Terry Riley, but they’re actually channeling Tony Conrad. It has the raw, stoned, improvised feel of the original Amon Duul group-chant freak-out recordings, and luxuriates in lo-fi drones, garage-rock ambiance, and intoned mumblings. There’s clearly a back-to-nature component as well (chirping birds, et cetera), and the whole thing exudes a fine organic quality. Had the recordings been released, they probably would have been dismissed as amateurish, but Pärson Sound would have been a perfect fit for a label like ESP-Disk, alongside, say the lone Cromagnon LP. Great stuff.

The band switched its name in 1968, emerging as International Harvester with the official debut, Sov gott Rose-Marie [Sleep Tight, Rosemary] (1968 Silence). Their sound is more varied, as they stagger into various soundscapes; the album opener is a recitation of the ominous requiem hymn, “Dies Irae,” which summons the dread of Judgment Day. The overall tone of the record is bleak, sort of a droning meditation on industrialization, interspersed with a bucolic wistfulness. International Harvester aren’t interpreting folk music; they’re reinventing it. Again, this stuff was ahead of its time, enough so that it still sounds fresh. “Runcorn Report on Western Progress” starts with the muted, forlorn rush of countryside auto traffic, and much of Sov gott Rose-Marie has the feel of a dirge; the closing track, “Skördetider" (Harvest Times), sounds downright funereal, as if these guys are only a tempo or three away from black metal. The group changed its name again for its second LP, re-branding itself as Harvester and released the follow-up, Hemåt [Homeward] (1969 Silence). What’s not to like about an album that kicks off with a weird, folky, shamisen-esque folk/psych jam called “Når Lingonen Mognar" (When the Lingonberries Are Ripened), then proceeds into something called “Nepal Boogie,” which doesn’t sound like a boogie or Nepalese, and is still ponderously wonderful? That’s a rhetorical question. Hemåt is easily as good as its predecessor.

There would be one final name change: Träd, Gräs & Stenar (Trees, Grass & Stones). This was the version of the band that really made an impact on the Swedish music scene, although at the expense of some of the hushed, free-form, atmospheric weirdness. Now a four-piece comprised of Persson, Abelli, Ericsson and Gartz, the group released the eponymous Träd, Gräs & Stenar  (1970 Silence), which begins with two covers that should have spelled the end of the band: the Bob Dylan/Jimi Hendrix ubiquity “All Along the Watchtower” and “(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction.” However, both of these are thoroughly shambolic and weird and spastic and drenched in the Träd, Gräs & Stenar performance idiom, so much so that they teeter between celebration and critique. Afterwards, the quartet flop back into typically bizarre conceptual terrain. Three more albums would follow in rapid-fire succession: Djungelns Lag (1971 Silence); Rock för Kropp och Själ (1972 Silence); and Mors Mors (1972 Silence). These would establish Träd, Gräs & Stenar as the preeminent prog band of Scandanavia – we should have been so lucky, since we Anglos got stuck with Emerson, Lake & Palmer. The group broke up in 1972, but reformed twice, in the late 70s and mid 90s, recording again in the studio for Ain Schvajn Draj (2002 Silence). They’re still good, but the definitive document may be the recently issued live gem, Gärdet 12.6.1970 (008 Silence), which captures the earliest version of Träd, Gräs & Stenar at their loopy, freewheeling zenith.