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      Ed Sheeran Sticks With a Familiar Formula on ‘=’

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      The British singer-songwriter’s fourth solo studio album reflects major shifts in his personal life that aren’t equally matched by musical growth.If first-dance songs at weddings counted extra toward streaming numbers, Ed Sheeran — the carrot-topped British troubadour behind such soft-rock swooners as “Thinking Out Loud” and “Perfect” — would have had a monopoly on the top of the charts for the better part of the last decade.Not that he needs much help in that department: The ubiquitous Sheeran was Spotify’s second-most-streamed artist of the 2010s (behind only Drake), and in 2017 — the year he released the blockbuster “÷” — he was the best-selling musician in the world. As a songwriter, Sheeran is something of a modern pop mathematician, gifted with an ability to reduce seemingly disparate genres (adult-contemporary pop, British hip-hop, Gaelic folk) down to their least common denominators.Since his 2011 debut, “+,” he has presented himself proudly as a hopeless romantic. “See I could do without a tan on my left hand, where my fourth finger meets my knuckle,” a then-21-year-old Sheeran sang on the sparse, unabashedly sentimental ballad “Wake Me Up.” In some sense, his fourth solo studio album, “=,” pronounced “equals” (one wonders what will happen when he soon runs out of arithmetic signs), has the potential to be the fullest realization of the Ed Sheeran ethos yet — the first since his December 2018 marriage to his childhood friend Cherry Seaborn. Honeymoon mode: Engage.“I have grown up, I am a father now, everything has changed but I am still the same somehow,” Sheeran sings on the opener, “Tides,” in a flagrant display of telling rather than showing. Musically, though, “Tides” is one of the most effective songs on the album, a stomping, surging lite-rocker arranged around a neat formal trick. After verses that rush through a list of Sheeran’s fears and neuroses, the track suddenly seems to suspend itself in midair during the chorus, long enough for Sheeran to reveal to his loved ones, “Time stops to still, when you are in my arms it always will.” (Sheeran recycles the effect later in the album, on “Love in Slow Motion.”)More than any of his previous LPs, “=” finds Sheeran mining the slick, synthesized sounds of ’80s pop. While he works again with the writer and producer Johnny McDaid of Snow Patrol, he adds a new collaborator on more than half the tracks: Fred again.., a British dance-music artist. But the retro aesthetic is most indebted to an album that is only a year and a half old, the Weeknd’s massively successful “After Hours.” His silhouette has lately cast a long shadow across his fellow male pop stars (Justin Bieber, the Kid Laroi), though it’s most apparent on Sheeran’s current hit, “Bad Habits,” a pulsating, strobe-lit lament in the tradition of a Weeknd song: “It started under neon lights and then it all got dark,” Sheeran sings, recounting another night of empty, bleary-eyed partying.Where the Weeknd’s music often revels in decadence and nihilism, Sheeran’s depictions of wild nights are often accompanied by a potent dose of morning-after guilt and the eventual possibility of redemption — usually a kind of quasi-religious salvation that can be attained through the love of a good woman. As he puts it on “The Joker and the Queen,” a music-box piano ditty on “=” that stretches a poker metaphor exhaustingly far, “When I fold, you see the best in me.”“=” is the kindest, gentlest Sheeran album, which is something of a shame. Each of his previous records had at least one song that complicated his image as a heart-on-his-sleeve nice guy, whether that was the surprisingly venomous music-industry sendup “You Need Me, I Don’t Need You” or “New Man,” his previous solo album’s sassy kiss-off to both a former flame and her subsequent boyfriend. The soulful grain that sometimes adds texture to his smooth croon is also seldom heard on this record. The driving conflict of “=” rarely strays from or goes deeper than a familiar, repeatedly stressed mantra: Life comes at you fast, but it slows to the tempo of a wedding waltz when you’re in love.An Ed Sheeran album wouldn’t be complete without a mawkish tear-jerker, and here it’s “Visiting Hours,” as in, he wishes heaven had them. Sheeran follows that indulgent weepie with a literal lullaby, the lilting, Jack Johnson-esque “Sandman.” He has grown up, he is a father now, in case you had somehow forgotten.At least the best song on the album is also the one that seems destined to be his next you’ll-hear-it-till-you’re-sick-of-it smash: “Overpass Graffiti,” a moody, synth-streaked ’80s throwback that sounds like a more melancholy update of Rod Stewart’s “Young Turks.” Here, Sheeran proves that even as a married man, he’s still able to tap into old heartbreak: “There are times when I can feel your ghost, just when I’m almost letting you go,” he sings, his voice convincingly weighted with nostalgia.Earlier, in that rush of insecurities that forms the verses of “Tides,” Sheeran admits that in the past he has been “too busy trying to chase the high and get the numbers up.” That confession might suggest that he’s ready to put algorithmic crowd-pleasing in the past, but it turns out to be an empty promise. Ultimately, “=” neither adds to nor subtracts from the trusty formula for success that he long ago worked out. It is the sleek sound of stasis.Ed Sheeran“=”(Atlantic) More

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      Alicia Keys’s Hypnotic Love Jam, and 12 More New Songs

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      Hear tracks by Anaïs Mitchell, Hurray for the Riff Raff, ASAP Rocky and others.Every Friday, pop critics for The New York Times weigh in on the week’s most notable new songs and videos. Just want the music? Listen to the Playlist on Spotify here (or find our profile: nytimes). Like what you hear? Let us know at theplaylist@nytimes.com and sign up for our Louder newsletter, a once-a-week blast of our pop music coverage.Alicia Keys, ‘Best of Me’The steady, diligent beat is from Sade’s “Cherish the Day” by way of Raphael Saadiq; the promises of loyalty, honesty and absolute devotion are from Alicia Keys as she channels Sade’s utterly self-sacrificing love. “We could build a castle from tears,” Keys vows. The track is hypnotic and open-ended, fading rather than resolving, as if it could go on and on. It’s from a double album coming Dec. 10 featuring two versions of the songs: “Originals,” produced by Keys, and “Unlocked,” produced by Keys and Mike Will Made-It. JON PARELESHurray for the Riff Raff, ‘Rhododendron’The first single from Hurray for the Riff Raff’s forthcoming album “Life on Earth” is frisky and poetic, contrasting the wisdom of the natural world with the chaos of humanity. The New Orleans singer-songwriter Alynda Segarra (who uses they/she pronouns) is so enthralled with the wonders of plant life that they are able to extract lyricism from simply listing off some famous flora (“night blooming jasmine, deadly nightshade”) in a wonderfully Dylan-esque growl. The chorus, though, comes as a warning in the face of ecological destruction: “Don’t turn your back on the mainland.” LINDSAY ZOLADZKylie Minogue and Jessie Ware, ‘Kiss of Life’Following her excellent 2020 disco-revival record “What’s Your Pleasure?” (and this year’s Platinum Pleasure Edition, which contained enough top-tier bonus material to make an equally excellent EP) Jessie Ware gets the ultimate co-sign from the dancing queen herself, Kylie Minogue, on this playful duet. Their breathy vocals echo throughout the lush arrangement, as they trade whispered innuendo (“Cherry syrup on my tongue/how about a little fun?”) and eventually join together in sumptuous harmony. ZOLADZBaba Harare featuring Kae Chaps and Joseph Tivafire, ‘Vaccine’Baba Harare, from Zimbabwe, is a master of the genre called jiti: a speedy four-against-six beat that carries stuttering, syncopated guitars and deep gospel-tinged harmony vocals. In “Vaccine,” he’s joined by fellow Zimbabweans Kae Chaps and Joseph Tivafire, and between the hurtling beat and the call-and-response vocals, the song is pure joy. PARELESBitchin Bajas, ‘Outer Spaceways Incorporated’The latest project from the freewheeling ambient drone group Bitchin Bajas is boldly conceptual: a homage to one of the Chicago trio’s formative heroes, Sun Ra. As daunting as it may sound to reinterpret some of the cosmic jazz god’s most innovative compositions, Bitchin Bajas approach the challenge with a playful ingenuity. Take their cover of “Outer Spaceways Incorporated,” which in its original form is a loose, interstellar groove. Bitchin Bajas refract it instead through the lens of one of their other major influences, Wendy Carlos (hence the title “Switched on Ra”) and turn it into a kind of retro-futuristic waltz. The guest vocalist Jayve Montgomery uses an Electronic Wind Instrument to great effect, enlivening the song with an energy that’s both eerie and moving. ZOLADZASAP Rocky, ‘Sandman’ASAP Rocky has been featured on plenty of other artists’ tracks over the past few years, but “Sandman” — released to commemorate his breakthrough 2011 mixtape “Live.Love.ASAP” finally coming to streaming services — is his first new solo song since 2018. Produced by Kelvin Krash and ASAP fave Clams Casino, “Sandman” toggles between hazy atmospherics and sudden gearshifts into the more exacting side of Rocky’s flow. Plus, it gives him an opportunity to practice his French: “Merci beaucoup, just like Moulin Rouge/And I know I can, can.” Quelle surprise! ZOLADZCollectif Mali Kura, ‘L’Appel du Mali Kura’The project Collectif Mali Kura gathered 20 singers and rappers to share a call for hard work, civic responsibility (including paying taxes) and national unity in Mali. Sung in many languages, with bits of melody and instrumental flourishes that hint at multiple traditions, the song starts as a plaint and turns into an affirmation of possibility. PARELESJorge Drexler and C. Tangana, ‘Tocarte’“Tocarte” (“To Touch You”) is the second deceptively skeletal collaboration released by Jorge Drexler, from Uruguay, and C. Tangana, from Spain; the first, a tale of a showbiz has-been titled “Nominao,” has been nominated for a Latin Grammy as best alternative song. “Tocarte” is a pandemic-era track about longing for physical contact: It constructs a taut, ingenious phantom gallop of a beat out of plucked acoustic guitar notes, hand percussion and sampled voices, and neither Drexler nor Tangana raises his voice as they envision long-awaited embraces. PARELESHayes Carll, ‘Nice Things’In the twangy, foot-stomping, gravel-voiced, fiddle-topped country-rocker “Nice Things,” which opens his new album, “You Get It All,” the Texan songwriter Hayes Carll imagines a visit from God. She (yes, she) runs into pollution, over-policing and close-minded religion. “This is why I blessed you with compassion/This is why I said to love your neighbor,” she notes, before realizing, “This is why y’all can’t have nice things.” PARELESAnaïs Mitchell, ‘Bright Star’Before she wrote the beloved Tony-winning musical “Hadestown,” Anaïs Mitchell was best known as a gifted if perpetually underrated folk singer-songwriter with a knack for traditional storytelling. The stage success of “Hadestown” (which itself began life as a 2010 Mitchell album) forced her to put her career as a solo artist on hold, but early next year she’ll return with a self-titled album, her first solo release in a decade. Its leadoff single “Bright Star” is a worthy reintroduction to the openhearted luminosity of Mitchell’s voice and lyricism: “I have sailed in all directions, have followed your reflection to the farthest foreign shore,” she sings atop gently strummed acoustic chords, with all the contented warmth of someone who, after a long time away, has at last returned home. ZOLADZAoife O’Donovan featuring Allison Russell, ‘Prodigal Daughter’Aoife O’Donovan sings delicately about a reunion that could hardly be more fraught; after seven years, a daughter returns to her mother with a new baby, needing a home and knowing full well that “forgiveness won’t come easy.” O’Donovan reverses what would be a singer’s typical reflexes; as drama and tension rise, her voice grows quieter and clearer, while Allison Russell joins her with ghostly harmonies. As a tiptoeing string band backs O’Donovan’s pleas, Tim O’Brien plays echoes of Irish folk tunes on mandola, a musical hint at multigenerational bonds. PARELESMarissa Nadler, ‘Bessie, Did You Make It?’How about a chillingly beautiful modern murder ballad to cap off spooky season? The folk singer-songwriter Marissa Nadler’s new album “The Path of the Clouds,” (out Friday on, appropriately enough, Sacred Bones) was partially inspired by her quarantine binge-watch of choice: “Unsolved Mysteries.” The opening track “Bessie, Did You Make It?” creates a misty atmosphere of reverb-heavy piano and arpeggiated guitar, as Nadler tells a tale of a nearly century-old boat accident that was never quite explained. “Did you make it?” she asks her elusive subject, who seems to have perished that day along with her husband. Or: “Did you fake it, leave someone else’s bones?” ZOLADZArtifacts, ‘Song for Joseph Jarman’Artifacts features three of the leading creative improvisers on the Chicago scene: the flutist Nicole Mitchell, the cellist Tomeka Reid and the drummer Mike Reed. All are deeply entwined in the lineage of their home city, and on “Song for Joseph Jarman” — from Artifacts’ sophomore release, “ … and Then There’s This” — the trio pays homage to an influential ancestor with this slow, hushed, deeply attentive group improvisation. It’s not unlike something Jarman himself might have played. Reid and Mitchell hold long tones more than they move around, sounding as if they’re listening for a response from within each note. GIOVANNI RUSSONELLO More

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      ‘How They Got Over’ Review: How Gospel Begat Rock

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      In the director Robert Clem’s documentary about gospel quartets and their undeniable influence on rock ’n’ roll, Sister Rosetta Tharpe has competition.Sister Rosetta Tharpe nearly steals the show in “How They Got Over,” the director Robert Clem’s documentary about the gospel quartets of the 1920s, ’30s and ’40s and their undeniable influence on rock ’n’ roll. But she has competition.Among those who championed the quartets, Tharpe, the first gospel artist to sign with a major label, was instrumental in introducing her audience to groups like the Dixie Hummingbirds. The longtime lead of that group, Ira Tucker, bookends the documentary with reminiscences that gently touch on faith, economics and craft.The singer Dennis Edwards explains the shifts in the genre. But it’s a clip featuring Joe Ligon of the Mighty Clouds of Joy stylishly spinning and sliding that draws a smile-inducing connection from the spiritual to the secular, from the quartet Edwards performed in to the group he became a frontman for: The Temptations.Other interviewees include Clarence Fountain of the Blind Boys of Alabama, Isaac Freeman of the Fairfield Four, and JoJo Wallace of the Sensational Nightingales.
      “How They Got Over” traces the music from its exquisite jubilee-style harmonies to tugging “smooth gospel.” (The singer Sam Cooke was among the smooth gospel singers who crossed over to mainstream success.)Joyce Jackson, a historian, and the roots music chronicler Jerry Zolten offer insights into a devotional art form that often responded to the energy of churchgoers. With a trove of archival performance footage, much of it from the television show TV Gospel Time, and the wisdom to let those images breathe, the film leans into the maxim about showing not telling. Among the highlights: the Blind Boys of Mississippi joined by the Barrett Sisters in a hand-clapping rendition of “I’ll Be Singing Up There” and Inez Andrews pressing hard on the pedal of her wail and prophesying the rock to come.How They Got OverNot rated. Running time: 1 hour 27 minutes. In theaters and on virtual cinemas. More

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      New York Has a New Band of Buzzy Post-Punk Teens: Geese

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      The Brooklyn quintet thought the band would end after high school graduation. Now its debut album, “Projector,” is arriving.Every year, scores of young bands try their hardest to get a label deal that might provide a shot at stardom. For Geese, a Brooklyn-based rock group of five wiry teenage friends, nothing could have been further from their minds. “The band was going to end when we graduated high school,” the guitarist Gus Green said. “None of us thought anything would happen.”Until, that is, a lot of stuff started to happen. After Geese put several songs from its home-produced album on Spotify in spring 2020, a young manager who had done consulting work for Atlantic Records got in touch and made a passionate case to work with them. He asked for their dream list of labels, which inspired them to reel off cool indies like 4AD and Sub Pop. To the teens’ slack-jawed surprise, both companies came back with offers.By that fall, the band decided to sign a joint deal with the British label PIAS and the New York-based Partisan Records, which has helped jump start two successful young bands: Idles and Fontaines D.C. In late August, Geese sold out a show at the Brooklyn club Elsewhere, and this month the band performed a set at the new venue Brooklyn Made where it played with such energy, the drummer Max Bassin kicked right through his kit. Days before the band’s debut album, “Projector,” arrives this week, the 19-year-olds will play the Shaky Knees festival in Atlanta. Then, in November, they’ll begin a six-month domestic and international tour — a considerable leap for a band that has barely played more than a dozen gigs.“Our last show was in a club and now we’re going to play a festival?” Bassin said incredulously. “It’s nerve-racking.”A few weeks ago, as the teens sat in the sunroom of the funky Fort Greene brownstone owned by Bassin’s parents, they talked about the experience of essentially stumbling into what’s looking like a career. “I would tell myself, ‘Yeah, I’m excited for it,’” the guitarist Foster Hudson said. “Then I realized, ‘Oh man, there’s this tightness in my chest.’ I didn’t realize how much stress it was causing me.”Then again, mania and nervousness have served as prime muses for the band’s sound since its members started playing together as high school freshmen. Inspired by both the complexities of prog-rock and the angularity of post-punk, Geese makes dense and frantic music, centered on the bracing interaction between the two guitars. The band’s sound presents a virtual Venn diagram of New York underground rock history, with overlapping references to Television, the Feelies, Swans and the Strokes.“It’s definitely music from New York and all of the movements from here,” Bassin said.Hudson first discovered Television at age 12 when he was instructed to play a version of that band’s signature piece “Marquee Moon” in a class he was taking at the School of Rock program, where the bassist Dominic DiGesu was also studying. Several of the members have known each other since elementary school; others bonded at the progressive Little Red School House High School in Manhattan.A narrative has circulated that characterizes the band as “just a group of five white guys,” said Bassin. “I’m not white and Gus isn’t a guy.”OK McCausland for The New York TimesThe band — named for the pluralization of Green’s nickname, Goose — didn’t feature Hudson in its original lineup. Using equipment they cobbled together in the basement of Bassin’s house, the original foursome recorded an earlier album that Green described as “very prog-y and heavy with all kinds of random stuff that didn’t need to be there.” They soon expunged it from the web. Afterward, the singer Cameron Winter, their main songwriter, started to create pieces designed for two guitars, so they brought in Hudson. “Once we added Foster, we thought, ‘Wow, we actually sound decent now,’” Winter said.Over the last few years, the members have spent as much time listening to and talking about music together as making it. Speaking to them is like sitting with the omnivorous lead character from Nick Hornby’s “High Fidelity” times five. “We live in a world of ‘who can listen to the most possible music?’” Green said.Some of their knowledge comes from scampering down the rabbit hole of the web; some from their parents’ record collections. The fathers of two members have been involved in the music business: Green’s dad is a sound designer who has worked with John Cale; Bassin’s father, who died of respiratory-related issues when the drummer was just 8, was a marketing executive at the music company Alternative Distribution Alliance. “Somewhere in this house there’s a gold Vampire Weekend record,” the drummer said.As expansive as the members’ musical tastes may be, the time frame they had to record the album in their basement studio was tightly constricted by school commitments and a curfew set by Bassin’s mother: just three hours on Friday nights to cut the music, with a hard out of 10:30 p.m. to avoid disturbing the neighbors. “Fridays, I had school, then track, and then Geese,” Green said, as if the band were another part of the guitarist’s course load.The pandemic shutdown became a blessing for the group because it allowed time to carefully consider all the label proposals and to practice. “None of that would have been possible if everyone had gone off to college,” Bassin said.“When we made this album, we were just 17,” Green said. “We’re 19 now. We’re changing, fast.”OK McCausland for The New York TimesTim Putnam, who signed the band to Partisan, was taken by the pure spirit the album was created in. “When you write from a place of not thinking anyone’s going to hear your music, it’s very different from thinking that they might,” he said. “It was such a rare scenario.”For Russell Crank, A&R director of PIAS, the New York history that courses through the group’s music became a draw. “I feel like they’re the next evolution of the New York sound,” he said.The decision by the band to ditch higher education in favor of a career wasn’t an easy one, especially since its members had been accepted at top schools like Oberlin, the Berklee College of Music and Swarthmore. Hudson and Green say they still want to attend college one day. At the same time, they relish having the platform to not only present their music but to talk about personal topics that are important to them. Hudson has battled deep anxiety and depression. “Struggling with mental illness can be overwhelming,” he said. “But there’s a lot to be said for naming an experience.”Green, who identifies as nonbinary, only came out to the other members six months ago. “It was a long, drawn-out process, thinking I was someone I wasn’t,” the guitarist said. “Talking about it has given me a new confidence.”At the same time, a narrative has circulated that characterizes the band as “just a group of five white guys,” said Bassin, who is Asian. “I’m not white and Gus isn’t a guy.”The group want to make it equally clear that its debut is just a creative jumping-off point. At the Brooklyn shows, it debuted three new songs, and its members say they’ve written scores more that push them in a fresh direction. “When we made this album, we were just 17,” Green said. “We’re 19 now. We’re changing, fast.” More

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      Abba revient après 40 ans de silence

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      The New York Times traduit une sélection de ses meilleurs articles pour un lectorat francophone. Retrouvez-les ici.STOCKHOLM – La paisible petite île de Skeppsholmen abrite une bonne partie des trésors culturels de la capitale suédoise: Moderna Museet, la troupe de théâtre Teater Galeasen et l’entrepôt de briques rouges réaménagé, à deux pas du bord de mer, où Benny Andersson a son studio personnel. Au début du mois, il a glissé dans sa bouche un paquet de snus (de la poudre de tabac consommée en Suède) tandis que Bjorn Ulvaeus sirotait un café dans l’une des salles ensoleillées; les deux musiciens entourés d’un piano à queue, d’une petite sélection de synthés et, sur le mur derrière un écran d’ordinateur, un assortiment de photographies encadrées.Pour la première fois depuis l’administration Reagan, les deux acolytes discutaient d’un nouvel album pour leur groupe, Abba — un album que l’un des plus grands groupes pop internationaux de l’histoire a réussi à réaliser en secret avec ses quatre membres historiques au complet, près de 40 ans après leur dernière représentation ensemble en public.“On a fait une pause au printemps 1982 et on a décidé que là, il était temps d’y mettre fin” a fait savoir le groupe dans un communiqué en septembre. La réponse fut tonitruante. “Abba, encore un autre vaisseau, n’est-ce pas?”. Ulvaeus jubile dans le studio, situé à quelques pas de celui, plus grand, où ils ont achevé leur album clandestin. “On a fait ce truc et on se retrouve à la une de tous les journaux du monde.”Parmi toutes les grandes figures de la pop musique que le pays a vu naître (Avicii, le créateur de tubes Max Martin, Robyn, Roxette), Abba reste la plus importante et a même son propre musée dédié. Entre 1973 et 1981, le quatuor — avec les chanteuses Agnetha Faltskog et Anni-Frid Lyngstad —a sorti huit albums studio remplis de mélodies, d’harmonies et de cordes méticuleusement agencées, qui ont généré 20 succès dans le classement des 100 plus gros titres de la semaine du magazine Billboard, vendu des dizaines de millions d’albums dans le monde et rassemblé une horde de fans passionnés.Mais son impact révolutionnaire ne se mesure pas seulement en chiffres : Le groupe était réputé pour les risques qu’il prenait avec la technologie et la diffusion de ses titres. Dès le milieu des années 1970, il a été l’un des premiers groupes à produire des mini-films promotionnels très élaborés — aujourd’hui on les appellerait des clips — dont la plupart réalisés par Lasse Hallstrom. Son album “The Visitors”, sorti en 1981, est généralement considéré comme la première sortie commerciale sur CD. En 1999, la comédie musicale “Mamma Mia !” a associé les tubes du groupe à une histoire sans aucun rapport avec les paroles. D’innombrables imitations et deux adaptations au cinéma ont suivi, dont une à laquelle on doit la mémorable performance vocale de Meryl Streep dans “Dancing Queen”.Aujourd’hui, Abba se risque à remettre en jeu peut-être son atout le plus précieux : son héritage. Pas seulement en ajoutant de nouvelles compositions à son répertoire, mais aussi en produisant un spectacle sans qu’aucun de ses membres ne soit sur scène en chair et en os. À partir de mai prochain, dans une salle londonienne construite sur mesure, le groupe se produira sous la forme d’avatars (ou, dans ce cas, d’Abbatars) ultra-sophistiqués, conçus pour reproduire leur look de 1979 — l’époque des dégradés bouffants et des costumes de scène flamboyants.Andersson et Ulvaeus dans le studio d’Andersson à Stockholm. Il s’y rend tous les jours pour travailler.Felix Odell pour The New York TimesAndersson, 74 ans, et Ulvaeus, 76 ans, deux des hommes les plus discrets dans une industrie très stressante, disent avoir été sincèrement surpris, et peut-être un peu soulagés, par l’excitation qui a accueilli l’annonce du nouvel album. (L’album de 10 titres appelé “Voyage” comme le spectacle à venir, sort le 5 novembre chez Capitol, le label du groupe).“On était loin d’imaginer que ce serait si bien accueilli” s’étonne Ulvaeus. “Quand on tente sa chance, on risque une raclée”. Difficile à dire s’il faisait intentionnellement référence à l’un des plus gros tubes d’Abba (“Take a Chance on Me” ou “Tente ta chance avec moi”): ces types ont un petit côté pince-sans-rire.Pourtant, ils auraient pu se douter que leurs retrouvailles susciteraient un grand intérêt. Depuis sa mise en veille en 1982, Abba n’a cessé de prospérer. Au fil des décennies et des mutations de la pop, le groupe a dépassé l’étiquette “Europop ringarde” qui leur collait à la peau dans les années 70 —“Nous avons vu l’ennemi dans les yeux, et c’est eux”, assurait le critique américain Robert Christgau en 1979. Abba est aujourd’hui largement respecté pour son savoir-faire pop sophistiqué, et sa popularité tenace transcende les générations et les frontières.“Abba est tout simplement l’un des plus grands groupes de l’histoire de la musique populaire”, estime Michelle Jubelirer, PDG de Capitol Music Group, dans un mail. “Ils sont véritablement un phénomène mondial, et ce depuis qu’ils ont remporté le concours Eurovision de la chanson en 1974 avec ‘Waterloo’.”Et tous les dix ans , quelque chose vient raviver cet engouement, à commencer par la compilation “Abba Gold” de 1992, qui figure toujours dans les charts britanniques plus de 1 000 semaines après sa sortie (j’avais rédigé les notes d’accompagnement de sa réédition en 2010). Les classiques du groupe et ses prouesses en studio continuent de séduire un grand éventail d’amateurs de pop, les fans d’Elvis Costello, de Carly Rae Jepsen, de Jarvis Cocker, de Kylie Minogue et de Dave Grohl. Demandez à Madonna, qui a même fait appel au groupe pour un extrait de “Gimme ! Gimme ! Gimme ! (A Man After Midnight)” pour son tube de 2005 “Hung Up”.Andersson et Ulvaeus auraient facilement pu s’asseoir sur leurs tas de couronnes suédoises, sachant leur place dans le livre des records bien assurée : “Qu’est-ce qu’il y a à prouver ?” s’exclame Andersson. “Ils joueront toujours ‘Dancing Queen’ l’année prochaine.”Ulvaeus s’esclaffe. Le duo se complète toujours parfaitement. C’est presque comique : Andersson est le musicien d’un musicien qui se rend presque tous les jours dans son studio (au volant d’une Toyota ultra-compacte). Ulvaeus, qui a toujours eu un penchant pour l’entreprenariat, mène divers projets avec sa société de production Pophouse Entertainment (et conduit une Tesla rouge).Parce qu’il n’y avait aucune pression à se retrouver, le duo affirme qu’il n’y avait pas vraiment de plan pour un album : C’est arrivé comme ça, quand quatre potes ont réalisé qu’ils aimaient toujours faire de la musique ensemble.Abba en 1979; les avatars numériques des membres du groupe seront calqués sur leurs looks de cette année-là.Sobli/RDB and ullstein bild, via Getty ImagesTout a commencé il y a environ cinq ans, lorsque Simon Fuller, le producteur à l’origine de la franchise “Idol” et des Spice Girls, a proposé de mettre en scène un spectacle de reproductions en 3D des membres du groupe qui “chanteraient” les morceaux originaux, accompagnés d’un groupe de musiciens sur scène.“C’était un choix facile (pour moi) de les pousser à être le premier groupe important à vraiment embrasser les possibilités du monde virtuel”, explique Fuller dans un mail. “La musique d’Abba séduit toutes les générations comme aucun autre groupe ne le fait depuis les Beatles.”Le projet offrait également l’avantage pratique de ne pas avoir à se soumettre à la contrainte de grands concerts.“Ce qui nous a intéressés, c’est l’idée qu’on pouvait les envoyer sur scène pendant qu’on était à la maison en train de faire la cuisine ou de promener le chien”, explique Andersson.Le duo est parti à Las Vegas découvrir l’hologramme du spectacle “Michael Jackson ONE”, et en a vite conclu qu’il lui faudrait faire environ un million de fois mieux. La société d’effets visuels Industrial Light & Magic, célèbre pour “Star Wars”, leur a garanti que c’était possible. (Fuller n’est plus impliqué dans le projet).Naturellement, “les filles”, comme sont affectueusement désignées Faltskog, 71 ans, et Lyngstad, 75 ans, dans les cercles proches du groupe, devaient être de la partie, d’autant que le processus impliquait des semaines de captation de mouvements. Elles ont dit “OK, si ça s’arrête là”, se souvient Andersson. “On ne veut pas partir en tournée. On ne veut pas d’interviews télévisées ni rencontrer de journalistes.” (Fidèles à leur parole, elles n’ont pas participé à ce reportage).Andersson et Ulvaeus décidèrent que les Abbatars devaient avoir de nouvelles chansons, comme cela aurait été le cas avant les tournées de l’époque. En 2017, Faltskog, qui vit hors de Stockholm, et Lyngstad, installée en Suisse, se sont retrouvées au studio RMV, à une centaine de mètres de chez Andersson à Skeppsholmen. Là, elles ont enregistré leurs voix sur la ballade “I Still Have Faith in You” et le titre disco riche en instruments à cordes “Don’t Shut Me Down”. Les deux chanteuses, qui avaient disparu du monde de la musique depuis des années, ont repris comme si de rien n’était.“Elles sont entrées et elles ont dit quelque chose du genre ‘On y va les gars, on peut encore y arriver’,” se rappelle Andersson. “Incroyable.”Faltskog et Lyngstad n’étaient pas les seules conviées. “Benny m’a appelé en me disant un truc comme ‘Tu peux venir au studio, on pense faire une ou deux chansons avec le vieux groupe ?’”, raconte dans un mail le guitariste Lasse Wellander, qui travaille avec le groupe depuis son album éponyme de 1975. “Au début, je n’ai pas compris ce qu’il voulait dire, puis j’ai réalisé qu’il parlait en fait d’Abba!”.Au départ, l’idée était de ne faire que ces deux morceaux, mais ils ne sont pas arrêtés là. “On s’est dit, ‘Pourquoi ne pas en écrire quelques autres, des chansons, juste pour se faire plaisir?,” raconte Andersson. Et les filles ont dit : “Oui, ce sera amusant”. Alors elles sont revenues et on a eu cinq chansons. Et on s’est dit : “On ne devrait pas en faire quelques unes de plus? On pourrait sortir un album.”Il y a eu pas mal de discussions autour de la place qu’aurait un nouvel album dans une discographie déjà si appréciée. “Une partie de la question était, est-ce que cela va nuire à l’histoire d’Abba, à la musique d’Abba”, raconte Gorel Hanser, qui travaille avec les membres du groupe depuis 1969, avant même qu’ils ne s’appellent Abba, et qui fait partie intégrante de son équipe de direction. Elle trouve qu’Andersson avait eu les mêmes préoccupations quand l’idée de “Mamma Mia !” avait fait jour : “Est-ce que c’est la bonne façon de faire ? Est-ce qu’on risque de détruire ce qu’on a ?”, continue-t-elle. “Mais je pense qu’on s’y est très bien pris. On ne néglige rien qui ne puisse être amélioré.”La préparation du spectacle en scène nécessite des heures d’enregistrement dans des costumes capteurs de mouvement.via ABBADans les nouveaux titres, on trouve certains des textes les plus poétiquement doux-amers d’Ulvaeus, sur la difficulté des relations et des séparations. “Je suis moi-même passé par là”, dit-il. “C’est de la fiction mais on sait exactement de quoi on parle.”Pour Andersson, composer à nouveau pour Abba a été un changement bienvenu. “Je trouve que c’est un peu ennuyeux de ne travailler que sur le recyclage”, estime-t-il, ce qui déclenche un vif échange avec Ulvaeus — leur seul désaccord de la journée — sur son choix de mots.“Tu appelles ça du recyclage, j’appelle ça de la narration transcendante”, rétorque Ulvaeus. “Tu peux envoyer, tu peux faire des trucs sur d’autres plateformes, et ”Voyage” c’est ça : ça raconte une histoire sur une autre plateforme. ‘Mamma Mia!’ c’est ça aussi”, ajoute-t-il à propos de la comédie musicale. “Ce n’est pas du recyclage.”D’une certaine manière, l’échange est du pur Abba : décontracté, mais sous-tendu de préoccupations sérieuses. Un peu plus tard, les deux hommes se reprennent à débattre, cette fois à propos de leurs Abbatars. Andersson fait remarquer qu’Ulvaeus a demandé une modification de la chevelure de son alter ego numérique parce qu’il y a une limite à ce que l’on peut accepter de la réalité de 1979. Je lui fait observer que c’est une excellente façon de réécrire un peu l’histoire en restant fidèle à son esprit. Ulvaeus répond, avec un léger sourire, “Oui, c’est une question existentielle très intéressante”. (Ulvaeus, connu en Suède pour son engagement en faveur de l’athéisme et de l’humanisme, apprécie ce genre de questions; plus tard, il me demande : “Dites-moi, est-ce que vous pensez que la constitution américaine est assez solide pour résister à un nouveau président républicain ?”)L’écriture à deux par Andersson et Ulvaeus a résisté aux divorces et aux critiques méprisantes (Un petit rappel : Andersson a été marié à Lyngstad, Ulvaeus à Faltskog). Ils composent ensemble non-stop depuis leur rencontre en 1966, et leur collaboration a continué après Abba, non seulement pour le groupe d’Andersson, mais aussi pour les comédies musicales “Chess” et “Kristina from Duvemåla” — une épopée sur les immigrants suédois du 19ème siècle en Amérique, qui comporte un moment inoubliable sur les poux.S’ils se partageaient le travail de manière assez fluide dans les années 1970, la répartition des tâches est aujourd’hui beaucoup plus précise : Andersson trouve des mélodies et enregistre des démos dans son repère de Skeppsholmen; il les envoie ensuite à Ulvaeus, qui écrit les paroles. Quand on lui demande où en sont ces démos, Andersson propose de jouer “Don’t Shut Me Down” et se tourne vers son ordinateur. Il ne la trouve pas parmi ses dizaines de fichiers, et cherche avec les mots “Tina Charles” — car la chanson d’Abba a une élégance ondoyante qui rappelle les tubes de la chanteuse britannique.Il finit par dénicher non pas la démo, mais la partie instrumentale finie, et la fait entendre sur l’impeccable sound system. La preuve est faite de l’importance cruciale des voix de Faltskog et Lyngstad dans la tapisserie sonore d’Abba.“Tous les groupes connus depuis les années 70 comptaient plus qu’un seul chanteur”, rappelle Andersson, citant Eagles, Fleetwood Mac et Abba. “Vous entendez Frida chanter un morceau, et après vous entendez Agnetha chanter — c’est comme si c’était deux groupes. Le fait qu’il y ait deux chanteuses, ça aide incroyablement la dynamique. Et alors quand elles chantent ensemble…”Dans les harmonies de “Voyage”, on reconnaît indéniablement la patte d’Abba, même si le registre est un peu plus grave que par le passé. L’âge ne suffit pas à expliquer cette différence : “Pour la plupart des morceaux, on les forçait un peu à monter aussi haut que possible, parce que ça donne de l’énergie,” raconte Andersson.“On les incitait, plutôt que forçait”, corrige Ulvaeus.La pop a beaucoup changé en 40 ans, mais “Voyage” ne cherche pas à ressembler à autre chose qu’à du Abba. “Vous écoutez les nouveaux albums, c’est toujours tellement lisse”, regrette Andersson. “Il n’y a rien qui bouge à part le rythme exact. Moi je ne fais pas ça — je le fais à main levée.”Cette approche contribue à donner au nouvel album un côté intemporel. “De nos jours, on peut tout éditer, mais eux ne l’ont pas fait”, nous dit le batteur Per Lindvall, joint par téléphone, qui collabore avec Andersson et Ulvaeus depuis le tube de 1980 “Super Trouper”, et a participé au nouvel album. “Et en plus, ils n’en on pas fait des tonnes sur les voix. C’est ce qui fait ce son unique d’Abba.”Abba en studio, travaillant sur “Voyage”.Ludvig AnderssonPour le nouveau spectacle, en revanche — dans lequel les deux hommes ont investi “une blinde”, selon Andersson, dont le fils Ludvig en est l’un des producteurs — il leur a fallu recourir à davantage de technologie du 21ème siècle, notamment cinq semaines de capture de mouvements. Il leur a fallu se serrer dans des combinaisons moulantes couvertes de capteurs, et Andersson et Ulvaeus ont dû raser leurs barbes chéries.Alors que les différentes pièces de “Voyage” prenaient forme ces deux dernières années, l’ancien leader des Klaxons James Righton a été engagé pour recruter les musiciens pour le live des Abbatars. Parmi ses 10 membres, on compte Victoria Hesketh, 37 ans, dont le nom de scène est Little Boots. Début 2020, elle a répété avec le nouvel ensemble à Stockholm sous la tutelle d’Andersson.Il y a 40 ans, un parcours aussi long et improbable aurait été inimaginable pour quatre Suédois. “Vous devez comprendre à quel point il paraissait impossible avant Abba de percer en Angleterre ou aux États-Unis”, dit Ulvaeus de la scène pop avant la mondialisation rendue possible par internet. “Ce n’était absolument pas plausible”.Pourtant, non seulement Abba a ouvert la voie pour des musiciens du monde entier, mais il l’a fait avec un pragmatisme d’artisans — ce que ses membres restent au fond d’eux-mêmes. “Le fait est que, même à l’époque, ça a toujours été un boulot de tous les jours”, dit Andersson. “On écrivait les chansons, on espérait que quelque chose de bon en sortirait, on se retrouvait au studio, on les enregistrait. Et on se remettait à écrire. C’était exactement pareil qu’aujourd’hui : c’est juste une question d’essayer de trouver quelque chose qui marche, et de voir ce qui se passe.” More

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      5 Abba Lovers on Why the Songs Are Still Pure Gold

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      The Swedish pop group’s tracks have been the soundtrack for fans including Slipknot’s Corey Taylor, the actor-comedian Lea DeLaria and Scissor Sisters’ Jake Shears.News of Abba’s return with a new album (and stage show starring digital avatars) has the group’s followers talking — so we talked to five of the group’s notable fans. Here are edited excerpts from the interviews.Jake Shears, musician and Scissor Sisters singerThere was a four-disc deluxe package called “Thank You for the Music” that I convinced my mom to buy me. We went on a road trip across the country to see my grandma, and those were the only four discs we had in the car. At the time, I knew Abba wasn’t necessarily cool, but it was also sweet because I was with my mom, and it was something we were enjoying together.When I started making my own music, that’s when I started going back into those classic records. I’d always had this love for music hall and cabaret, which I was latching onto with Abba. My favorite record by them is “The Visitors,” but something like “Head Over Heels” has just got that theatrical high kick. It’s very cinematic; it makes me think of foot lights and red curtains. I was bringing those influences into the electroclash world; we started making a more theatrical rock, and taking it into full on dance clubs.I hate to generalize, but anywhere there’s pure pop songwriting, I think queer people are going to gravitate toward that. Eurovision is the mecca of gay music lovers. I had a boyfriend of three years; we broke up in the middle of Covid, and I listened to “Knowing Me, Knowing You” probably about a million times. I felt like that song was counseling me. What’s so wonderful about the music is not only the craftsmanship, but that it contains adult, complex stories. The songs are about people and situations, and that’s something I love in music.Lea DeLaria, actor-comedian who performed as Rosie in the 2017 staging of ‘Mamma Mia!’Abba was such a big part of pop culture in my youth; not knowing it, I would think I was in a movie about their life, because I was just constantly hearing the soundtrack. The town I grew up in was about 20 miles east of St. Louis, and we would always go to a big gay dance club in East St. Louis called Faces. “Dancing Queen” would come on, and it was all over.What Abba helps me do is access the joy of my youth. Abba is just one of those things that when I put it on, I’m 16 years old again on a dance floor. It just makes me so happy. I find it interesting that they don’t realize how much they’ve given to pop culture. They’re as much of a permanent resident of pop culture as Ella Fitzgerald or Frank Sinatra or David Bowie. When I saw “Mamma Mia!” on Broadway, everybody’s just so filled with that joy, and I couldn’t wait to be a part of that.I was at a party on the Fourth of July, where it was 15 gay men and me, and it got to the point in the night where we were inside rather than outside, where everybody wanted to dance. And what do you do? You put on Abba.Corey Taylor, Slipknot singerGrowing up in the ’70s, there was such a weird amalgam of music all over the place. I had Elvis; I had Motown; I had weird disco. Through all of that, I remember hearing Abba’s music. It seemed like it was always on, and it was clearly different from everything else. It had this full-spectrum lush production that felt and sounded big. It was only four people, but those songs sounded like there were a thousand people being recorded. The math didn’t add up to me.“Take a Chance on Me” was always my jam. I love the juxtaposition; the beginning sets the whole tone for the song, with this weird Gregorian monk-like chant going on, and all of a sudden the crazy European production kicks in. The modulation in those songs is beautiful; it hooks you in, the way it plays between the major and the minor. I just love the yearning feeling. When you put it on, I’m instantly in a good mood.If you’re a real lover of music — not just somebody who subscribes to one genre — then you have a great appreciation for songs. And Abba wrote great songs that they executed just completely above the norm. It’s the original earworm; it’s the thing that sneaks in and gets stuck in your head. That’s what appeals to people, even if they don’t really like the band or the genre. Even their B-side stuff is really, really catchy. They were taken from us for such a long time; we didn’t get the chance to burn out on them. It’s like people wishing that the Beatles would get back together.Anne Sofie von Otter, mezzo-soprano who recorded ‘I Let the Music Speak,’ an album of Abba covers with Benny AnderssonWhen they did “Waterloo” on Eurovision, I remember enjoying that and thinking they were fun, but I didn’t buy the records; I sort of went along with the snobs who were saying they weren’t any good, for some stupid reason. I rediscovered them when I went to work in Basel, Switzerland, on my first contract. There was a wonderful record shop where I bought a cassette of “The Visitors,” and I’d lay in my bed feeling quite sorry for myself, listening to it on my Walkman.The big thing is Benny Andersson’s musicality — his ability to write a melody, his ear for harmonies. He doesn’t lose that there’s an element of folk music, of Nordic music, of Baroque music. He’s a great composer; he knows how to use different voices intertwining, and building it up. There’s a great melancholy in everything he writes, and it makes you hurt in that wonderful, nice way. When I was recording with Elvis Costello, he just gave Benny a call. He came to the studio, and I was completely star-struck — almost crying with excitement, which happens quite rarely. I was extremely taken with the situation, because I worshiped him. I still worship him, but maybe less dramatically than I did then.Judy Craymer, ‘Mamma Mia!’ creatorI was working for the lyricist Tim Rice as his production assistant, and the first project of his that I worked on was with Bjorn Ulvaeus and Benny Andersson, writing “Chess.” Meeting Benny and Bjorn was an inspiration in itself. I wanted to know more about why they wrote those songs, what was behind those lyrics, what the ingredients of those songs were. That was the fascination for me, because they had a very strong female consciousness — they were songs that women sang, but Benny had written them. Seeing them work in the studio, I could appreciate that they weren’t just pop songs; there was a wonderful mix of hooks and choruses and production, and also they were Swedish, so there was a kind of melancholy. They’re very serious guys; they’re not really the guys that dress up in white, with platform boots. That was very interesting to me.I was fascinated by the oxygen blast that you get — you go from the melancholy, and always end up on a high. Bjorn’s lyrics had everyday connections, and common themes about people, friendship, wrecked romances, a child leaving home for school. That’s why I think the songs have sustained far longer than they ever thought. When I kept pestering them back in the ’80s, they were like: “Oh, Abba’s finished. We’re moving on.” But you don’t have to love Abba to love “Mamma Mia!”; there’s a much younger audience that didn’t know Abba as pop stars, or performers. They just know the music. You play this music to a child, and it’s almost soothing.I‘ve known them for a long time now, and I think they’re still amazed that everybody loves “Dancing Queen” so much, and wants to dance to it. It’s a big celebration that they have another album because I met them when they’d split up, and it’s a wonderful circle of life that they’ve come back together again. There’s an Abba song called “The Way Old Friends Do,” and it’s a bit like that kind of closure. More

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      What Is Your Favorite Abba Memory?

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      Next month the Swedish band will release its first new album in 40 years. We want to hear what its music means to you.When did you first hear a song by Abba?Since shimmying onto the international stage with “Waterloo” in 1974, the band has become a ubiquitous part of global pop culture.Before going on indefinite hiatus in 1982, Abba — named for its members, Agnetha Faltskog, Benny Andersson, Bjorn Ulvaeus and Anni-Frid Lyngstad — released eight studio albums and some of the catchiest pop songs of all time, which reached No. 1 across the world. Just hearing song names like “Dancing Queen,” “Take a Chance on Me” and “Mamma Mia” can be enough to have Abba’s upbeat choruses in your head for the rest of the day (you’re welcome!).In the decades since, the Abba phenomenon has continued: In 1999 the musical “Mamma Mia!” came to London’s West End, and then Broadway and stages around Europe. Two star-studded film versions followed.Now, for the first time in four decades, the group has released new music, and a 10-track album, “Voyage,” is coming on Nov. 5. And beginning next spring in a custom-built London venue, the group will present a new live show, performing as high-tech avatars intended to replicate how its members looked in 1979.So although Abba’s music has never been far away, Sweden’s best-selling band is definitively back. To commemorate this moment, we want to hear about what Abba means to you.Has it formed the soundtrack to your life? Do certain songs take you straight back to moments of joy, sadness or singalong? Have you visited the Abba museum in Stockholm? Has your relationship with different tracks changed over the years? We’d also love to see photos that show your fandom.Your submissions may be included in our future Abba coverage.What does Abba’s music mean to you?The Swedish quartet is releasing its first new album in four decades. We want to hear from its fans. More

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      After 40 Years, Abba Takes a Chance With Its Legacy

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      STOCKHOLM — The small, tranquil island of Skeppsholmen holds a handful of the Swedish capital’s artistic treasures: Moderna Museet, the theater group Teater Galeasen and the converted red brick warehouse just steps from a waterfront promenade where Benny Andersson has his personal studio. He tucked a packet of the oral tobacco snus in his mouth as Bjorn Ulvaeus sipped coffee in one of its sunbathed rooms earlier this month, the two musicians surrounded by a grand piano, a small selection of synths and an assortment of framed photographs that were perched behind a computer screen.For the first time since the Reagan administration, the pair were discussing a new album by their band, Abba — an album one of the biggest international pop acts in history somehow made in secret, with all four of its original members congregating nearly four decades after giving their last public performance.“We took a break in the spring of 1982 and now we’ve decided it’s time to end it,” the group said in a statement in September. The response was thunderous. “Abba is another vessel, isn’t it?” Ulvaeus marveled at the studio, just steps from the larger one where they completed their clandestine LP. “We did this thing and we are on the front page of every paper in the world.”In a country known for producing towering figures in pop music (Avicii, the hitmaker Max Martin, Robyn, Roxette) Abba still looms the largest, and even has its own permanent museum. Between 1973 and 1981, the quartet — which includes the singers Agnetha Faltskog and Anni-Frid Lyngstad — released eight studio albums filled with meticulously crafted melodies, harmonies and strings that have generated 20 hits on Billboard’s Hot 100 chart, sold tens of millions of albums around the world and built a passionate fan base.But its paradigm-shifting impact can’t be measured only in numbers: The group was known for taking risks with technology and the use of its songs. Starting in the mid-1970s, it was among the first acts to make elaborate promotional mini-films — we’d call them music videos now — most of them directed by Lasse Hallstrom. Its 1981 album “The Visitors” is generally acknowledged as the first commercial release on compact disc. The 1999 jukebox musical “Mamma Mia!” paired the group’s hits with an unrelated plot, sparking a slew of imitators and two film adaptations that brought us the spectacle of Meryl Streep singing “Dancing Queen.”Now Abba is risking perhaps its most valuable asset — its legacy — by not only releasing a fresh addition to its catalog, but creating a stage show that features none of its members in the flesh. Starting in a custom-built London venue next May, the group will perform as highly sophisticated avatars (or in this case, Abbatars) designed to replicate their 1979 look — the era of feathered hair and flamboyant stage wear.Andersson and Ulvaeus in Andersson’s Stockholm studio, where he continues to work daily.Felix Odell for The New York TimesAndersson, 74, and Ulvaeus, 76, two of the most low-key men in a high-stress industry, said they were genuinely surprised, and possibly a little relieved, by the excitement that greeted the new album’s announcement. (The 10-track “Voyage,” which shares its name with the forthcoming live show, is out Nov. 5 on Capitol.)“We had no idea it would be so well received,” Ulvaeus said. “You just take a chance, you risk a thumping.” It was hard to tell if he was echoing the title of one of Abba’s most famous songs on purpose; these guys have a way with dry humor.Still, they might have had an inkling a reunion would spur interest. Since it went offline in 1982, Abba has continued to thrive. Conversations about pop have shifted over the decades, helping the group overcome the “cheesy Europop” tag that often stuck to it during its 1970s prime — “We have met the enemy and they are them,” the American critic Robert Christgau wrote in 1979. Abba is now widely respected as a purveyor of sophisticated pop craftsmanship, and its enduring popularity transcends generations and borders.“Abba is simply one of the biggest groups in the history of popular music,” Michelle Jubelirer, president and chief operating officer of Capitol Music Group, wrote in an email. “They are truly a global phenomenon, and have been so since they won the Eurovision Song Contest in 1974 with ‘Waterloo.’”And every decade or so, something has rekindled interest, starting with the 1992 compilation “Abba Gold,” which is still on the British charts more than 1,000 weeks after its release (I wrote the liner notes to a 2010 reissue). The band’s classic songcraft and studio wizardry continues to bridge musical allegiances, drawing fans as diverse as Elvis Costello, Carly Rae Jepsen, Jarvis Cocker, Kylie Minogue and Dave Grohl. Just ask Madonna, who directly appealed to the group for a sample of “Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! (A Man After Midnight)” for her 2005 hit “Hung Up.”Andersson and Ulvaeus could easily have just sat on their piles of kronor, with the knowledge that their place in the record books was secure: “What is there to prove?” Andersson said. “They’ll still play ‘Dancing Queen’ next year.”Ulvaeus chortled. The duo still complement each other almost comically perfectly: Andersson is a musician’s musician who goes to his studio almost every day (and drives an ultracompact Toyota). Ulvaeus, who has always had an entrepreneurial bent, continues to pursue various projects with his production and hospitality company Pophouse Entertainment (and pilots a red Tesla).Because there was no pressure to reunite, the pair say there was no grand plan for an album: It just kind of happened when four friends realized they still enjoyed making music together.Abba in 1979; the band members’ digital avatars will be modeled on their looks from that year.Sobli/RDB and ullstein bild, via Getty ImagesIt all started about five years ago, when Simon Fuller, the producer behind the “Idol” franchise and the Spice Girls, pitched a show starring 3-D reproductions of the group’s members “singing” the original vocal tracks backed by a live band.“It was an easy choice (for me) to empower them to be the first important group to truly embrace the possibilities of the virtual world,” Fuller said in an email. “Abba’s music appeals to all generations unlike any group since the Beatles.”The project also had appealing practical benefits for people unwilling to submit to the grind of big concerts.“What interested us was the idea that we could send them out while we can be at home cooking or walking the dog,” Andersson said.The pair traveled to Las Vegas to check out the hologram used in the Cirque du Soleil show “Michael Jackson ONE,” and their main takeaway was that they would have to do roughly a million times better. The visual-effects company Industrial Light & Magic, of “Star Wars” fame, assured them it could happen. (Fuller is no longer involved in the project.).css-1xzcza9{list-style-type:disc;padding-inline-start:1em;}.css-3btd0c{font-family:nyt-franklin,helvetica,arial,sans-serif;font-size:1rem;line-height:1.375rem;color:#333;margin-bottom:0.78125rem;}@media (min-width:740px){.css-3btd0c{font-size:1.0625rem;line-height:1.5rem;margin-bottom:0.9375rem;}}.css-3btd0c strong{font-weight:600;}.css-3btd0c em{font-style:italic;}.css-1kpebx{margin:0 auto;font-family:nyt-franklin,helvetica,arial,sans-serif;font-weight:700;font-size:1.125rem;line-height:1.3125rem;color:#121212;}#NYT_BELOW_MAIN_CONTENT_REGION .css-1kpebx{font-family:nyt-cheltenham,georgia,’times new roman’,times,serif;font-weight:700;font-size:1.375rem;line-height:1.625rem;}@media (min-width:740px){#NYT_BELOW_MAIN_CONTENT_REGION .css-1kpebx{font-size:1.6875rem;line-height:1.875rem;}}@media (min-width:740px){.css-1kpebx{font-size:1.25rem;line-height:1.4375rem;}}.css-1gtxqqv{margin-bottom:0;}.css-1g3vlj0{font-family:nyt-franklin,helvetica,arial,sans-serif;font-size:1rem;line-height:1.375rem;color:#333;margin-bottom:0.78125rem;}@media (min-width:740px){.css-1g3vlj0{font-size:1.0625rem;line-height:1.5rem;margin-bottom:0.9375rem;}}.css-1g3vlj0 strong{font-weight:600;}.css-1g3vlj0 em{font-style:italic;}.css-1g3vlj0{margin-bottom:0;margin-top:0.25rem;}.css-19zsuqr{display:block;margin-bottom:0.9375rem;}.css-12vbvwq{background-color:white;border:1px solid #e2e2e2;width:calc(100% – 40px);max-width:600px;margin:1.5rem auto 1.9rem;padding:15px;box-sizing:border-box;}@media (min-width:740px){.css-12vbvwq{padding:20px;width:100%;}}.css-12vbvwq:focus{outline:1px solid #e2e2e2;}#NYT_BELOW_MAIN_CONTENT_REGION .css-12vbvwq{border:none;padding:10px 0 0;border-top:2px solid #121212;}.css-12vbvwq[data-truncated] .css-rdoyk0{-webkit-transform:rotate(0deg);-ms-transform:rotate(0deg);transform:rotate(0deg);}.css-12vbvwq[data-truncated] .css-eb027h{max-height:300px;overflow:hidden;-webkit-transition:none;transition:none;}.css-12vbvwq[data-truncated] .css-5gimkt:after{content:’See more’;}.css-12vbvwq[data-truncated] .css-6mllg9{opacity:1;}.css-qjk116{margin:0 auto;overflow:hidden;}.css-qjk116 strong{font-weight:700;}.css-qjk116 em{font-style:italic;}.css-qjk116 a{color:#326891;-webkit-text-decoration:underline;text-decoration:underline;text-underline-offset:1px;-webkit-text-decoration-thickness:1px;text-decoration-thickness:1px;-webkit-text-decoration-color:#326891;text-decoration-color:#326891;}.css-qjk116 a:visited{color:#326891;-webkit-text-decoration-color:#326891;text-decoration-color:#326891;}.css-qjk116 a:hover{-webkit-text-decoration:none;text-decoration:none;}Naturally, “the girls,” as seemingly everybody in the band’s close circles good-naturedly calls Faltskog, 71, and Lyngstad, 75, had to be onboard, especially since the process would involve weeks of motion capture. “They said ‘OK, if that’s it,’ ” Andersson recalled. “‘We don’t want to go on the road. We don’t want to do TV interviews and meet journalists.’” (They kept their word and didn’t participate in this story.)Andersson and Ulvaeus decided that the Abbatars should have some fresh material because that’s what would have happened before a tour back in the day. In 2017 Faltskog, who lives outside Stockholm, and Lyngstad, who lives in Switzerland, traveled to RMV studio, a hundred yards from Andersson’s base on Skeppsholmen. There, they put down their vocals on the ballad “I Still Have Faith in You” and the string-laden disco of “Don’t Shut Me Down.” The two singers, who have been out of the music business for several years, picked up right where they left off.“They come in and they just, you know, ‘Here you go guys, we can still do this,’” Andersson said. “Amazing.”Faltskog and Lyngstad weren’t the only ones beckoned to work. “Benny called me saying something like, ‘Can you come to the studio, we’re thinking of making one or two songs with the old band?’” the guitarist Lasse Wellander, who has been working with the group since its self-titled album from 1975, wrote in an email. “At first I didn’t understand what he meant, then I realized he actually meant Abba!”The original plan was to do just those two tracks, but they kept going. “We said, ‘Shouldn’t we write a few other songs, just for fun?’” Andersson recalled. “And the girls said, ‘Yeah, that will be fun.’ So they came in and we had five songs. And we said, ‘Shouldn’t we do a few others? We can release an album.’”There were conversations about how the new LP would fit into a beloved discography. “Part of it was, is this in any way harming the history of Abba, the music of Abba?,” said Gorel Hanser, who has been working with the band members since 1969, before they called themselves Abba, and is integral to the group’s management team. She said she thought Andersson addressed those concerns when the idea first arrived for “Mamma Mia!”: ‘“Are we doing it the right way? Are we destroying what we have?’” she said. “But I think it’s been very well taken care of. We don’t leave anything without doing it as best as we possibly can.”The process of preparing for the stage show involved hours in motion-capture suits.via ABBAThe new songs feature some of Ulvaeus’s most poetically bittersweet lyrics, with references to the difficulty of relationships and separation. “I’ve been through that myself,” he said. “It’s fiction but you know exactly what it’s like.”For Andersson, coming up with fresh Abba material was a welcome shift. “I think it’s sort of boring to only work on recycling,” he said, inadvertently sparking a back and forth with Ulvaeus — their only disagreement of the day — over his choice of words.“You call it recycling, I call it transcendent storytelling,” Ulvaeus said. “You can lift, you can do things on other platforms, which is what ‘Voyage’ is: it’s telling a story on another platform. That’s what ‘Mamma Mia!’ is, too,” he continued, referring to the musical. “It’s not recycling.”In a way the exchange was pure Abba: easygoing, but undergirded by serious concerns. Another chance for debate came up when the two men were discussing their Abbatars. Andersson remarked that Ulvaeus had requested a change to his digital alter ego’s hair because there is only so much 1979 realness anybody can take. When I remarked that it was a great way to rewrite a little bit of history while still being faithful to its spirit, Ulvaeus replied, with a slight smile, “Yes, it’s such an interesting existential question.” (Ulvaeus, known in Sweden for his commitment to atheism and humanism, enjoys such questions, later asking, “So, do you think the American constitution is strong enough to withstand another Republican president?”)The Andersson-Ulvaeus songwriting bond has withstood intraband divorces and the pressure brought on by critical scorn. (For those who have forgotten: Andersson used to be married to Lyngstad, Ulvaeus to Faltskog.) They have been writing together nonstop since meeting in 1966, and their post-Abba collaborations include songs for Andersson’s band as well as the musicals “Chess” and “Kristina from Duvemåla,” an epic about 19th-century Swedish immigrants to America that includes the rare showstopper about lice.While the division of labor used to be fluid in the 1970s, it is now much more clear-cut: Andersson comes up with melodies and records demos in his Skeppsholmen lair then sends them to Ulvaeus, who writes the lyrics. Asked how elaborate those demos are, Andersson volunteered to play “Don’t Shut Me Down,” and walked over to his computer. Then he couldn’t find it among his dozens of files, searching “Tina Charles” since the Abba song has a slinky vibe like one of the British singer’s hits.He eventually unearthed not the demo but the finished backing track, and cranked it up on the immaculate sound system, providing a great example of how crucial Faltskog and Lyngstad’s voices are to Abba’s sonic tapestry.“All the various successful groups since the ’70s have had more than one singer,” Andersson said, mentioning Eagles and Fleetwood Mac, alongside Abba. “You hear Frida sing one song and then you hear Agnetha sing — it’s like two bands. The dynamics are helped immensely by the fact that there are two. And then when they sing together …”Their harmonies on the “Voyage” album bear the unmistakable Abba stamp, even if the register is a bit lower than it used to be. Age alone does not account for the difference: “We used to sort of force them to go as high as they could on most of the songs because it gives energy,” Andersson said.“We urged rather than forced,” Ulvaeus interjected.A lot has changed in pop in the past 40 years, but “Voyage” makes no attempt to sound like anything other than Abba. “You listen to new records, it’s always so slick,” Andersson said. “There’s nothing moving aside of the exact rhythm. I don’t do that — I do it by free hand.”The approach helps makes the new album feel timeless. “Nowadays you can edit anything, but they didn’t,” the drummer Per Lindvall, who has been collaborating with Andersson and Ulvaeus since the song “Super Trouper” in 1980 and plays on the new album, said on the phone. “They also haven’t been pitching the vocals to death. It’s part of the unique Abba sound.”Abba in the studio while working on “Voyage.”Ludvig AnderssonThe new show — in which the two men have invested “a big chunk,” according to Andersson, whose son Ludvig is one of its producers — did require a bit more 21st-century technology, including five weeks of motion capture. That involved squeezing into tight suits covered in sensors, and required Andersson and Ulvaeus to shave their beloved beards.As more pieces of the “Voyage” project fell into place over the past couple of years, the former Klaxons frontman James Righton was enlisted to recruit the Abbatars’ live backing band. Its 10 members include Victoria Hesketh, 37, who performs as Little Boots. In early 2020, she practiced with the newly formed ensemble in Stockholm, under Andersson’s tutelage.“It was a strange combination of being pushed technically so hard, but at the same time being so full of joy in every moment,” she said in a phone interview. “I could see Benny chuckling to himself behind the mixing desk.”Four decades ago, this long, improbable journey was unimaginable for four Swedes. “You have to understand how impossible it seemed right before Abba to have hit records in England and the U.S.,” Ulvaeus said of the pop landscape before the internet globalized it. “It was absolutely not in the cards.”Yet not only did Abba break down barriers for musicians around the world, it did it with the matter-of-fact pragmatism of artisans — which is what its members remain at heart. “The thing is, it has always been like day-to-day work, even then,” Andersson said. “We would write the songs, hope that something good will come out, go to the studio, record those songs. And then we wrote some more. Exactly the same as now: It’s not about anything else than trying to come up with something good, and see what happens.” More