Helena played yesterday at St Johannes Church in Malmö.
The whole 7-piece band joined. This was a mass built around Helena´s music from "Dynamo". It was conducted by Ida Wareborn and Katarina Herbert-Vaarning.Emma Sonesson ("Billy") was there and took some photos. See them here 
Yesterday, Helena and Martin Josefsson had a day of sun, friends, kids and water, as reported by their fried Björn Folbert.
The sun was shining on the day of the baptism of Isabella Anna Madeleine at the Stävie kyrka.
Afterwards, me, Hanna, Martin, Helena, Robbe and Eva, went to Långa Bryggan in Bjärred where we had some coffee and juice in the sun. Flippin’ sweet!
Go to www.kritiker.se and search for Helena Josefsson. Then you can read, not all, but many, of the reviews of Dynamo! One of the finest ones is not there, though : adelatoplean. And it is in English! Now you can listen to Helena Josefsson's music at
last.fm. Read her autobiography there.
I lived in Malmö (south of Sweden) back then, and I think it was there I made up my first tunes. It was just an obvious way of expressing myself. I do that in many ways: Dancing, singing, baking, painting, sewing. My mom got mad at me once and then I remember making a sad song to comfort myself. It´s been like that ever since, only the songs have other topics of course: Love, vengeance, being scared, care, insufficiency, longing, then, now, later. I got to learn dancing since age 3 and singing in a choir since I was 7.
The music my mom played at home was a mixture of Kate Bush, 80´s Bowie, The Temptations, Enya, all of the soul-queens, Bruce Springsteen. And a record that rotated for 15 years was Jane Fonda´s aerobic-vinyl with things like The Jacksons and Bridge Over Troubled Water in a disco-soul-version, with Jane´s counting and cheering on top. I never seem to tire of that one!
My grandmother had a record store when me and my two sisters from the same batch were little, so we heard a lot of classical music at our grandparents´ cosy house. We sat in their armchairs frightened but enchanted, with our feet pulled up, listening to Prokofjev´s Peter and the wolf with Ernst-Hugo Järegård, a horrifying but wonderful actor, as story-teller.
My parents divorced when I was 7 and we moved with mom and her new love to a village called Björnstorp (outside of Lund, Sweden) when I was ten. The tough city-girl became a introvert country-mouse. When I came further from my dad he became my idol in an exaggerated way, alongside with the musical ones. (Michael Jackson, Terence Trent D´arby, Madonna, Cyndi Lauper, Alanis Morrisette and Cranberries) I believe my dad is a forest-man, so the mushrooms, blueberries, pucks and lakes symbolize him and my longing for that family we once were.
So, from then on we lived in the middle of a field. That was good because I could sing loud when I went cycling from the bus home. Or run far away as I went mad (and I sure can get angry, unfortunately I don´t always dare to show the person who caused it). I really fancy going by bike. I sang very loud and I played with my throat. No one but the horses heard and they shook their heads. Sometimes farmer Bo peaked out from behind a corner of his barn and I ceased directly.
When I make a song it feels like I ´m wrapping up a present! The coming days I find myself feeling murmurs and joy inside, but I don´t know why. So I start thinking: Why am I so happy today? Is it someone´s birthday, or did I win a lottery? And then I remember it is that new song that bubbles and warms me up from within.
It is so great to give away things and songs, at least it is if someone wants to receive it. It´s awful to give and give and you find no one wants to take it.
I am one of those who seek beautiful things. My eyes and ears just can´t get enough of that. Colours can not get be saturated or vivid enough, there can´t be too much tension in music ´cause I grow accustomed so fast. There must be something to dig for. The fact that nature has already invented all shapes, colours and sounds is fascinating.
Smells are some of the most beautiful things I know! A graveled road or asphalt after the rain when the sun warms it up. Warm, red house-paint on a sunny wooden wall. Tar. Resin. Younger sister´s scalp or older sister´s perfume that smelled like snuff.
The hard part is that I seek what money can´t buy. I take the long road through a coal-black forest, but discover much on the way. If I can´t reach what I seek, I´d rather stay empty-handed, than taking a middling substitute. That would only make me sad, reminding me even more of what I miss and that I couldn´t reach it.
When you are born, you are complete but then shell after shell is added as protection against dangers around. Or society forces you to take different parts, needs and patterns you don´t really need or want. Then one can spend the rest of one´s life finding and removing the bad shells, and saving the good ones, one by one. At least that´s what I want to do.
Emma Sonesson ("Billy") from Sweden has created some websites about Helena Josefsson:
Edited (June 2007): The forum seems empty now. You can visit:
Artists: 
