For most of 1997, it was nearly impossible to avoid hearing "Lovefool" by The Cardigans on a regular basis. As one of the rare hits heard on both popular and college radio at the time, its chorus was stuck in the heads of millions, much in the way the whistling pre-verse of Peter, Bjorn & John's "Young Folks" would be a decade later. However, it's safe to say neither of these would have reached the world's ears had they not been shown the way by the Swedish indie pop band, Eggstone. The scene this group created, both culturally and by laboring in Malmö's now legendary Tambourine and Gula Studios, not only launched world-famous bands but also drew in outsiders like Franz Ferdinand, Saint Etienne, Idlewild, and Boss Hog, to name a few. Eventually their studios would even host the inimitable Tom Jones and legendary producer George Martin. Founder Per Sunding not only continues to produce quality pop in Tambourine's hallowed halls, he remains Sweden's ambassador of Bonving [a sport invented by Eggstone that involves tossing shoes].
When did you start the studio?
Twenty-two years ago this week, in 1991. My friend, Tore Johansson, was working in a state-funded studio and my band, Eggstone, did an EP with him. We loved The Beatles, The Jam, '60s music, and people here weren't interested in the same things we were. Malmö was a working class city and most people were just interested in the blues. Also, the way things were being recorded here was like a competition for "best" '80s snare sounds. We didn't like it. We were more into a "cutlery box" drum sound. Tore saw an ad in the paper. A studio in Kivik had gone bankrupt and was selling everything. They had all the old gear [24-channel Amek console and a 16-track, 2-inch MCI]. Our parents cosigned some loans, and we started looking for industrial sites on the edge of Malmö. We found this space, moved out of our flats, and moved into here for 18 months.
Were you allowed to do that?
No! It was a crazy time. [laughs] We have the downstairs room now, but didn't when we moved in. It was occupied by an illegal goldsmith.
An illegal goldsmith?
It's not common! Heroin users used to come to him at night to sell him what they had stolen. It was a fencing operation. We had a kind of relationship with him. He was usually stoned, and he'd come upstairs with beer crates of records. He'd say [in a slurred, "stoned voice"], "Uunngghhh, you like music! These are great! Sixties stuff." It was fun to have him around.
When did he move out?
Actually the local Hell's Angels branch took over and moved his business out to a barn.
So you were off to an illustrious start!
I've played hockey my whole life, and I was sleeping with my stick every night for protection!
What was your first project here?
The reason we set it up was to be ours. A project studio. That EP with did with Tore was sent to some labels and we ended up with a 250.000 kr budget [approx. $40,000] because the music industry was rich at the time. We didn't want to go to one of those studios that didn't understand us, where we would also have to watch the clock. So we put that money towards equipment and thought we'd just learn from Tore. He knew everything and we knew nothing! But then he only gave us one day. He said, "Listen closely, because I'm only going to tell you once! First lesson: It starts with a microphone and it has to go somewhere, and it does that through a cord." Then we had another lesson after lunch about EQs. From there it was just, "Knock yourselves out." We had all the time in the world to make mistakes, and of course Tore helped along the way. Then we put the record out, and it reached a lot of people in small towns around Sweden who felt the same way we did — misunderstood in their community.
You had "started a thing."
Yes. The Cardigans were one of those bands. They sent their demos, and so did the band Bob Hund. We met their singer, Thomas Öberg, when we were on tour and we just clicked. When he started Bob Hund we saw them in Stockholm, and I had never seen anything like it! Eggstone was interested in an image. We were posing a little; but those guys were ! One of the brothers, Johnny [Essing], was not at all in control of his diabetes. He sat in a chair when he played, and at any moment he could just fall out of it and start convulsing. They would stop the show, pour milk or soda into his mouth to get his blood sugar up, and start playing again. I started wondering what I was doing and why. They were just breaking through that wall and pulling the crowd in. The bass player has a wooden leg! He was working like hell to get around the stage. We had just finished our record and we were like, "The studio is empty. You have to come down to record." They had no contract. They came down, were super enthusiastic, and in top form. We still didn't know much, so we just put up some mics and recorded it. The magic was in the performance.
So you did it live off the floor?
We had to go back to do some vocals, and maybe one overdub per song. A tambourine, maybe. The whole thing was done in two or three days.
Done and mixed?
We recorded 14 demos to cassette and then had our own "Eurovision Song Contest." [laughs] We all sat in the same room, listened, voted, and chose the highest- rated songs. The next day we recorded to 2-inch tape. We set the levels, checked it, and recorded. There is a legend that the cassette might even sound better than the final product. I don't know where it is, but I've been looking for it. Out of the demos that were getting sent to us, the other one we really liked was from The Cardigans. They really had something. Eggstone had to focus on our career, but Tore was excited about it. We didn't set out to be a commercial studio, but work was coming in. At first the only people sending us demos were people who heard and liked Eggstone, but after The Cardigans [Emmerdale] and Bob Hund [bob hund (1)] records worked their way higher up into the music industry chain, a relationship started. We started listening to tapes as if we were A&R people.
As tastemakers?
Yes, the labels were wondering how they had missed The Cardigans and Bob Hund. Then Elle magazine invited the Japanese artist Cornelius to do a music feature. He chose our album cover, along with The Smiths and two other bands, to be on the cover of the magazine. Suddenly we could fly to Tokyo to play shows for a thousand people and be treated like rock stars. Also, the second Cardigans record, which had been done here [Life], had just come out and it sold five million copies in Japan alone. So then we had interest from the Japanese market! "What is happening in Sweden?" Every Japanese label wanted a Swedish act, and the way to them was through Tambourine! So we started recording a lot of Swedish indie bands. Most of them got signed. Some "made it;" most didn't, but that kept us busy for a while. The next step, of course, was for Japanese bands to start coming here.
Hoping some magic would rub off?
Yes, and fans started to come. Travel agencies in Tokyo were organizing trips. Buses were stopping out front. Some would come in and just spend the day. They have, like, one or two weeks vacation a year and they chose to come here? It was a good time though, and we made some friends. The first bands to come were fans of Eggstone. We had a lot in common, and it was really fun. Then... well, the Japanese budgets were so big, so when we were asked we thought, "How can we say no?" We made it work by setting up a "factory" of steady session musicians from here in Malmö. We started to feel cynical. "We don't like this... BUT IT'S ONE MILLION KRONA [approx. $160,000]!" Working with music you don't like poisons everything. We started to aim too high. We wanted a record label [Vibraphone]. We built a restaurant in the center of town. We were too young and had too much money. We weren't passionate about those things though; we just hired our friends and things went poorly economically. We gave vague directives like, "It has to be great!" and, "Make this bar the coolest bar!" We had to keep super clean books because we were also running a management company, and we thought anything [fishy] would spill over to Tambourine and create a disaster. Of course running a clean restaurant, when it comes to taxes, is unheard of! [laughs] We treated the staff well, we had the best food, the best prices, and cheap beer. You can't survive under those conditions! We were too busy doing Japanese recordings and minding our own career to pay attention to the details though. We just wanted to own it and be super cool. So we sold the restaurant and closed the label, except for a small online shop. [Note: Vibraphone became Vibrashop, and is now run by the Copenhagen-based indie label, Crunchy Frog].
Were you broke at that point?
No, even with the mismanagement there was still so much work coming into Tambourine we could [handle the setback]. The bands really wanted to work with Tore, because his credits list was growing. We were jealous because our endeavors weren't going well. He was the only one bringing in the money. The studio was booked all the time, and since it was booked, Eggstone couldn't get in to work. Then Tore decided it was time to go out on his own. He had really made a name for himself. He broke The Cardigans worldwide, and had done the first Franz Ferdinand record [You Could Have It So Much Better] too. So he moved to London to try to become a songwriter, and we had to step in to produce again.
You had no choice!
