The past decade has been a journey for Olof Dreijer. In 2014 he and his sibling Karin disbanded their avant-pop duo the Knife at the height of their fame, and the Swedish producer found himself reckoning with his creative future. “I was spending my time doing a lot of youth work and activism and the tracks I was releasing weren’t in my own name,” Dreijer says over a video call from his home in Stockholm. “I wasn’t sure if I would continue working professionally in music.”
Having already released a slew of eerie, techno-influenced solo singles under the moniker Oni Ayhun from 2008 to 2010, Dreijer went on to teach music to undocumented migrants in Berlin and Stockholm, as well as produce for friends including Tunisian multi-instrumentalist Houeida Hedfi. “I didn’t think we needed more music from people like me,” he says, ie a white man. “I wanted to focus on helping other people realise their projects.”
Yet, in October 2023 a solo project emerged that bore 41-year-old Dreijer’s name for the first time. Released on tastemaking Leeds label Hessle Audio, the three-track EP Rosa Rugosa is a masterclass in dancefloor freedom. Mixing syncopated uptempo kuduro rhythms with the rustle of shakers, sweeping sirens and the harsh buzz of staccato synths, these are compositions effervescent with joy. And there is more to come: Dreijer is now following up the EP with another 12-inch record of electronic experimentation, Coral: three tracks of shuddering basslines, intricate percussion and meditative, ambient harmony.
What changed? “I eventually became more OK with who I am and didn’t want to hide under different pseudonyms,” he says. “I do a lot less overthinking, since I used to believe that I had to politicise everything, to make music a reflection of my activism, but I separate it now. I’m just somebody who makes music and that’s it.”
Indeed, the Knife ensured that the rare interviews they gave touched on topics concerning the patriarchy and gender disparity, while onstage they were equally vocal, labelling their final show Post-Colonial Gender Politics Come First, Music Comes Second. Even last year, Dreijer released a collaborative album with American producer Mount Sims, Souvenir, featuring material written in 2008 that repurposed a Swedish folk song to counter the Swedish far-right political movement’s aim of making folk culture a nationalist symbol. “There were hundreds of things we wanted to fit into that project,” he laughs.
Even if his current music is less explicit in its intention, it is no less political. “It’s embracing the fact that music gives us energy to overcome,” Dreijer says, “and perhaps that can be enough.” Sweden’s current government comprises a right-wing bloc featuring far-right party Sweden Democrats, yet the atmosphere on the ground is apathetic, says Dreijer, raising his eyebrows behind his glasses. “People demonstrate here much less since the last election when the fascist party came into government. It’s a very strange situation. Every Saturday there has been a Palestine demonstration that I’ve gone to but otherwise it’s nothing compared to the activity I grew up with.”
Raised in a politically engaged, leftwing family, Dreijer got his start in music as a teenager playing saxophone with his father in the local Gothenburg communist band. “We would play all kinds of jazz,” he says. “That jazz way of thinking, the freedom and confidence to be a bit outside the box, has stuck with me when it comes to making songs.”
Following a brief stint as a kindergarten teacher and hobbying DJ and beatmaker, by the late 90s Dreijer’s work with Karin as the Knife had become a full-time pursuit. The group released four albums, culminating in 2013’s Shaking the Habitual, which addressed everything from gender privilege to extreme wealth and the environmental impacts of fracking, the apex of his politicised output. The group disbanded the following year. (“We don’t have any obligations to continue, it should only and always be for fun,” Karin said in their final interview.) In the decade since, Karin has largely focused on their solo alias Fever Ray, combining theatrical synth-pop with vocal acrobatics across three records.
Today, Dreijer’s Stockholm studio shares an adjoining wall with Karin’s and the pair see each other regularly. “We’ve had the great privilege to be able to do different things rather than just being stuck with the Knife,” he says of their enduring relationship. “That’s allowed us to still work together so well.” Dreijer co-produced several tracks on Karin’s latest album as Fever Ray, 2023’s Radical Romantics, and he is also planning several more solo releases for 2024, including a collaborative EP with Colombian percussionist Diva Cruz, who plays in the Fever Ray band, and a debut LP.
It seems that now he has embraced his name, Dreijer has plenty more to say through his ebullient tracks. “I’m allowing myself to have fun with the music and that’s enough,” he says. “It’s been a long journey but that was the only way.”
