AWAKE IN THE ABYSS/ ANIKA
A conversation with Annika Henderson.
Preface
Once the rug is pulled, there is no solid ground.
Call it what you will; disorientation, confusion… it's a sort of nakedness.
Things begin to feel false. Sunlight's nuclear radiation, melodies are lies, and it's difficult to find anything that'll meet you where you are.
You can follow the advice; go on walks, exercise, maintain self-care, and surround yourself with the things that make you happy.
Just find the nearest exit.
To be frank with you, no one wants to hear this. Human activity is built around avoiding contact with uncertainty. Fill it with the rationalization of your choice, but not it's to be felt, and preferably not to be spoken of. The invisible throughline runs deep. From politics to religion to art, we cling to what we know for fear of annihilation. The annihilation of what, exactly? The demolition of a sandcastle.
If meaning were to mean something, surely it could travel; descend into doubt, into uncertainty, and then return. If we are to ever build a world that feels true, we must sit in the discomfort of the unkown.
A lot of art celebrates the escape, the highs, the dreams, the hope.
Which is great, when life makes sense.
Art that reflects the disillusionment is harder to find; but it doesn't lie or offer salvation.
It's fair to say that the world feels wrong, and that it's going to be a hard fight.
And it's not going to get better by closing one eye, but by staying awake until it starts to make sense again.
***
If anything, Anika's music feels honest. The hypnotic sound and her undiluted vocals exist in a space of earnest exploration, an attempt to reflect the world as it is. The unraveling becomes a form of beauty, one earned through a struggle with truth.
Over fifteen years, she has built a body of work that evades comfort: songs that look directly into the present, never cynical but always clear-eyed. From her politically charged 2010 debut Anika to her experimental collaborations with Exploded View, she's found a space between post-punk, spoken word, and dub-inflected minimalism. Her music is hard to define; blending the political and emotional; confronting power while searching for new forms of sonic dissent.
Following Change (2021), Anika returns with Abyss, a more urgent continuation of her sonic and political explorations. We spoke about many things: from songwriting and counterculture, to fear, hope, and the fight to stay free...
In a fractured world, we need art lucid enough to engage reality; it's the only place where rebuilding begins.
On Anika
Where are you right now as an artist?
I'm still lost and I'm still figuring shit out, but that's the best bit. Once I've figured it out, I quit. I mean, sometimes I want to quit, but more because I lose my reason, because you need a strong reason, you know? Then suddenly I wake up and I remember exactly why I'm doing it, and then I continue.
Do you still identify with the person you were when you first started doing this?
I was actually an extremely shy person and going on stage was like torture. I decided to put myself there because I thought music gave an interesting platform for political issues, and I saw it as a challenge. I think now I feel more comfortable, I don't feel like I'm set on fire every time I stand on that stage.
Some advice I was given at the beginning was "don't stop growing until you reach the moon," and I think it's true, you know, especially as an artist. I think that's why I never make the same album twice, which from a commercial point of view is really stupid because people don't actually like new ideas. If you keep reproducing what you did before, it will make you more successful in the market. But that's not why I do it. So, in the end, like they say, what are your motivations? You have to ask yourself. That's why my records are often quite different.
Why do you do what you do?
When I was 23, I was working as a journalist and I wanted to work in policy development. And then I accidentally made this album and had some work experience in Berlin for a news network. I realized that if I'm going to go into politics without having gone to Oxford or Cambridge, I'm not going to get a very good job. They're going to put me in the back cupboard somewhere, filing for twenty years. And then by then, I'd probably turn into some Tory, and then go into politics and just continue the inequality. I thought music would give me more of a platform.
The first album was sort of a rebellion against the music industry and all these formulas that were being emphasized to become a successful musician. Music has become purely commercial, and people have forgotten that it's a tool of protest, and that it has been throughout time. Someone's put a price tag on it, and that's something that I'm exploring through lyrics. I use music to try to figure out and understand reality, because often I'm confused by it, because I'm told one thing but my eyes see something different.
It's also a great way to connect with people. I've played in countries like Iran, Russia, and Mexico. It's there that you can actually talk to real people without the false representation from the media. It reminds you that there are people everywhere and you can't group them into a country or link them to their government's actions. I went to the States again now and the people I met were very inspiring and brave.
On The Medium
I never try to write a song, a song writes itself. Often it's everything in me that I haven't let out and haven't quite figured out yet. I try to keep a diary, especially when there's a lot going on. I suddenly write things and I'm like, oh, okay, that's where I'm at. I used to have insomnia, so I would play guitar at night just to help me sleep or come down. When you have a hypnotic pattern in the background it often releases things from you that you didn't even know were there, and that wouldn't be released in any other way.
With Exploded View, the lyrics were improvised and I didn't have a clue what I was on about. After listening back, I was like, oh, okay. I think music can be therapy, it's more than just something to dance to when you're high at a party. Music can accompany you through every stage of life, and that's why it should stay diverse and not just mono-output music. Streaming services seem to, by default, create a mono output and don't allow for diversity. So that's why I stand against platforms like Spotify, even though my label doesn't support me on that.
I remember the times when I was a kid, listening to stuff in my bed, secretly in the dark, on my Walkman or whatever. It helped me through so many times, you know?
On Commodification and Counterculture
Has seeing the music industry from the inside made you more disillusioned with its commodification?
Like I said, the first album was a kind of rebellion. We messed up old '60s songs and recorded them in this awkward way. Angela Davis has a book called Freedom Is a Constant Struggle, and in music, it is a constant struggle to remind yourself to remain free, to not accidentally twist yourself into fitting the algorithm or the marketing model.
It's something that I've really been thinking about in the last years because you just forget, especially with the rise of the internet and tech firms. They pretend to be your friend at the beginning and you're offered freebies, and then they become more restrictive and powerful, and that's when you sometimes have to leave. It's important to stay awake and be aware of the agenda behind these platforms.
It's also a question of how I make music. It's been a bit of a struggle for independent labels because a lot of them can't afford to be independent anymore. I feel like, generally, independent music has become the mainstream. Independent artists are somehow unconsciously basing themselves on models that are actually totally capitalist. How do you remain independent as an artist and actually retain your freedom? I would say it's definitely a constant struggle.
Do you still see a future for genuine counterculture in Europe, or has it been entirely consumed by the market?
It's funny when something like resistance becomes mainstream. We see it with techno in Berlin; it became a tourism industry in places like Berghain, even though they still want to remain cool and independent. But then again, a lot of young promoters are now trying to reclaim the space. I think that's also the task of independent musicians. It's about reclaiming space and not following old structures, starting new things and breaking the rules again.
Because once "independent" becomes mainstream, money takes over and freedom disappears. This summer in Berlin, I started going out again, which I hadn't done in a while, and it was encouraging to see that there's still new stuff happening. There are still people who don't want to conform and who are being very creative with very little money. There were also lots of interesting things happening in Rome.
I don't know, many people are also sleeping right now and they need to wake up. It's sad because they have been sleeping on their freedoms and their rights, and slowly, little by little, they get taken away and no one really does anything. You see that in Berlin a lot. And it's really sad to see how things change.
Everyone can do something, and music should create space for that, for rebellion, for safe spaces that exist outside of the structure; ones that can't be observed. Especially in this age of surveillance, like with the old raves in England, people had to call a number to find out where they were because they needed to operate beyond the reach of the law. The authorities kept changing the laws to catch them, even creating ones to ban consecutive beat music; tailoring them to target these people. But people always find a way to stay one step ahead.
On the Fractured Left and the Way Forward
Do you see art as a continuation of politics, something that can remind people that there's more than what the current system allows for?
Not really. People have to wake themselves up because art will die if it's ignored or unsupported. It's not the artist's role, it's the people's. The artist is already doing their job by creating. People need to get up and take part; we all work together.
I was at a discussion in Berlin that focused on the role of public figures, and I just thought, people need to get off their backside and actually start doing stuff. The spaces and ideas exist if you want to find them. There are many who've been shouting from their soapboxes for years. Maybe we need ringleaders, maybe not, but everyone has to do what they can in their own way. That's why I keep touring, it's how I contribute.
I'm not loud, I put my messages in my work, talk to people directly, and that's enough for me. I can't run a huge Instagram or a big press campaign, that's not my nature, but the message is still there.
The fact that you put these feelings into sound and you send them out there helps, it's really appreciated and felt.
I'm probably making a million mistakes. But that's the thing, being brave enough to make mistakes, especially in this culture. We exist in an overly polite and very sensitive society, so a lot of people are scared to speak up at all because they fear being cancelled. I have a big issue with this on the left; it seems to be scrutinizing people that are actually not the enemy right now.
We need to coexist even if we sometimes have different views. Angela Davis was often asked what's more important, the Black Power movement or feminist struggles, and she would say they're both equally important and they fight side by side. I feel there is often a conflict in Berlin. I remember during the anti-AfD protests; against the far-right party that's gaining ground in Germany; some of the pro-Palestine supporters were shaming those protesters for not also being at the pro-Palestine marches. I can see you're upset and frustrated, but we need to be in this together. These movements share a common struggle, even if they express it differently. This isn't really a constructive argument right now.
There need to be people who can make those marches and people who can do the others. This isn't a war between us, we're side by side. We've seen this a lot, especially on social media, which can be toxic because it constantly stimulates our emotions and lowers responsibility.
Do you mean it's become more identitarian and performative? That the left is focusing on isolated issues instead of building a united front to fight the real roots of our problems?
Yeah, absolutely. I think it just needs to unite and stop fighting itself. One of the powers of the right is making you feel isolated, like you're the only one who thinks like that. And when the left fights itself and beats up someone for having an opinion they think is wrong, that person might stop standing up or speaking at all, and that's not what you want.
If people are going to an anti-far-right protest, that's good. I'm not going to say, "oh, but they weren't at this one." That kind of dialogue is really destructive. And if you wanted to be a conspiracy theorist, you could even say a lot of it was planted by the right, because when one side keeps score amongst themselves, they become far less efficient and strong. It's a total self-sabotage move.
A lot of people don't speak up because they don't know enough, so it's up to the ones who are informed to lead the way, to spread knowledge and lead instead of criticising others. Using shame, guilt, and fear, tools used in religion and by the right to control people, is not something I agree with.
It's also a weird time. In this internet age, everyone's expected to respond immediately, while before you had more time. Things have changed a lot in the last few years, since corona, and it feels more urgent now. People need to act. That's what this album is about. It's more in your face. Change was about pondering things, like, "oh, what am I going to do, the world is burning…" Now it's more like, "hey, the world is burning, get out now, we need to start fighting for our rights." That's how it is for me, and that's what the live show is about.
On Alienation and Belonging
You move between disciplines, countries, and languages. Where do you find a sense of belonging in the world?
I don't know. These days it's more with good friends; I can be anywhere. It's confusing moving so much. When I went back to England, of course there are parts that feel like home, but I can't really relate to the country anymore. It's the same with Germany. What I relate to are people. I miss people, and people make me feel at home.
Being a touring musician, especially on DIY tours, you meet so much kindness, people welcoming you into their homes and treating you like family. That's a beautiful thing. So I guess I have many homes everywhere. Home is somewhere you should feel safe, and for me that's with friends, in places where I feel that safety.
It's confusing when you move so much; you have to let go of the static concept of home. But it's still there, just everywhere, wherever you set it up to be.
You sing a lot about alienation and feeling a bit outside of the world. How do you reconcile that with such a deep love for other human beings?
Yeah, I always have those conflicts inside me. Sometimes I need to be really alone, and other times I love being in a room full of people or with good friends. I think we need both as humans, and it's important to nurture those sides. Everyone's different and needs a different balance.
Sometimes people can really disappoint you, but compassion teaches you things, maybe they've had a bad time or learned that behavior from someone else. I try to stay hopeful and keep trusting even when I get burned. That's the only way to stay open, even after bad experiences. If you can manage that, it's a wonderful thing.
My granddad used to say that as people get older, they get more conservative in their politics, and I think it's tied to this, the more you get hurt, the less trusting you become. As you age, things around you become unfamiliar, and that fear of the unknown can make you close off.
It's also understandable. When people feel hurt or abandoned, they start voting for right-wing parties, not because they're stupid, but because they feel unseen. Those parties are clever at making people feel seen, even if it's fake. It's a societal problem.
That's why I find beauty in music, it reminds us we're in it together. When I first started going out to clubs, there were people of different genders, races, and classes all in one place. Music can transcend those divisions. That's something I always check with my shows. If it feels too mono, I know I'm failing, because I want it to feel diverse and alive. It's hard to do, but that's what I aim for.
Audre Lorde
On Inspiration
Has there been any artist, across time or medium, who's made you feel seen or shaped your worldview and approach to art?
There've been a lot, especially strong female artists who helped me growing up. In England, as a woman, you're often expected to play certain roles and stay in your place. I only really saw that clearly after leaving. I used to listen to Lauryn Hill's album on repeat, it's pure emotion, not hiding anything. She's had a difficult story, but that album is so heartfelt; it's not an algorithm-written song. You can't fake that.
Also PJ Harvey, she always seemed a bit shy, but to see her fight that shyness, play guitar, take up space, that was a big role model for me as a kid. I've also been shaped by authors. I think you should be selective about your teachers, and I'm very selective about what I read because it becomes part of you. Knowledge used to be only for the rich, but now there's so much available if you look for it. There are so many good writers who help challenge our fears about the world.
Do you have any authors or books you'd recommend?
So many. I read a lot of Audre Lorde and Toni Morrison, and also poets like Sylvia Plath, writers whose emotions really overcome them. Then there are theorists like Silvia Federici; her book Caliban and the Witch is brilliant, about women and gender politics. Toni Morrison's essays are inspiring, Audre Lorde's writing is powerful, and Angela Davis, even if she's seen as controversial, writes in a way that's very accessible.
Lately I've also been reading Capitalism and Slavery, which I find really interesting. Sometimes I feel I need to radicalize myself again, sharpen my claws, because I grew up in England and can get too comfortable. So I go back and read things that remind me of the fight. There are so many good teachers out there; hopefully they don't get banned, though they're already banning Audre Lorde in some states. That's why we have to fight for the arts; if they're banning it, it's because it's powerful.
And with music too, if people only listen on streaming services, we risk losing so much. That's why concerts are important, being together in a room, feeling that collective energy. In Berlin, a lot of small venues are closing because of police and noise complaints. We have to protect those spaces. Buy tickets, support the staff, go see bands you don't know. There's always a way, even if you're broke, write to the artist, ask to be on the list, volunteer. It's about keeping these spaces alive. It's worth it every time.
Excerpt from Caliban and the Witch
Check out Anika's music here and catch her live if you can, she's fighting the good fight :)