Moddi – Forbidden songs (FULL DOCUMENTARY)

After high school I decided to make a go of- -making a living as a musician. It's now been my job for ten years. Please welcome Moddi. My earlier songs were mostly about my own life. they say home is the place where your heart is They started out quite political, but then became more trivial. It was about my coffee cups, my laundry and this life. But these songs represent the beginning of something,- -they make me question a bunch of things,- -and suddenly make the world seem much bigger. MODDI'

S FORBIDDEN SONGS 2014 THREE YEARS PRIOR I think I should ... I'll have to read it to you. "So you pull out of playing in Israel because of jew-hating neo-Nazis,- -and head off to Austria, the birthplace of Hitler, where racism is rife?" "You're as thick as shit!" This is of course something that really affects me. I can't ... MODDI CANCELS CONCERT IN ISRAEL In November, I was invited to play in Tel Aviv, Israel. There were some in Israel who then took my concert as a sign of support. As if I we

re celebrating the country's policies. A defence of their occupation of Judea and Samaria and so on. It became indefensible, so I cancelled the concert abruptly. Boycotting a whole country is pretty drastic. Three days ago, I got an email from Birgitte Grimstad, the folk singer. She had read about the cancellation. She wrote about a song she was supposed to perform- -in 1982, while on tour in Israel. But she wasn't allowed to play it at the time. I've put a new melody to the lyrics. I thought th

at we would try it out today. I'm going to venture into a song that's new as piss. Three days old. "New as piss" is the term, yes. It's about an Israeli general- -who, standing on Lebanese soil during the war against Lebanon, the first one,- -refused to take his army into Beirut. I hope I remember the lyrics. the dogs of war are loose again, cold blows the wind to me -Bloody brilliant! -Really good. -You're raising important issues. -I try. Now and then. Music is a good magnet. 2017 THREE YEARS

LATER again the ravens rule the skies, cold blows the wind to me with hacking beaks and hungry cries, with hungry cries they wheel the skies cold blows the wind to me we heard the march of army boots, cold blows the wind to me until they stopped outside Beirut, outside Beirut we heard them shoot cold blows the wind to me but then up spoke a colonel bold, the finest in the land he said: "If orders come to take the town, I cannot obey their command I cannot follow them so when at last the order ca

me, cold blows the wind to me then the world knew Eli Geva's name, the world knew Eli Geva's name stood up against that cold, cold wind come blow his name to me For almost 32 years,- -no one sang the song she and Richard Burgess wrote- -that summer of 1982. And I began to wonder what other songs might be out there,- -songs just as powerful and beautiful as the song about Eli Geva. That was the start of the project for me,- -collecting illegal and censored songs from across the globe. I began to

search. It's not the easiest of projects,- -but it's so incredibly exciting! You have to plough through books. You have to speak to the embassy in Hanoi,- -and human rights organisations in New York, to understand what you're doing. I was told I could possibly contact the embassy. That's why I'm calling. I'll just send an application, then. Tomorrow. In writing. Yes, thank you for calling me back! I've been at my desk over there for a whole year,- -working away on these songs and lyrics. Desktop

anthropology. I've been translating and trying to understand. Thereabouts. I've spent months of my life on each song,- -and there are still so many gaps to fill. That's why I want to go to these places, not just read about them. I want to find some of the people who actually wrote the songs. It's a bit new and strange. To think that a few songs can take you so far and wide! My songs used to be mostly about my own life. They were about my coffee cups and laundry. This life. Being on tour, waitin

g for something to happen. But now I'm dealing with songs which represent a beginning,- -which make me question a bunch of things- -and make the world seem much bigger. We're going to Chile. I've gone to Santiago de Chile, halfway across the globe,- -to learn more about one of the most renowned singers in history- -to face censorship, and in its most brutal form. Víctor Jara was murdered during the coup here in 1973. -Want to hear something by Víctor Jara? -Yes! Can I? OK? levántate y mira la mo

ntaña de donde viene el viento, el sol y el agua It's mad that the first song we hear going into a record shop- -is "Plegaria a un labrador", the very song I wanted to learn more about! líbranos de aquel que nos domina en la miseria hágase por fin la voluntad aquí en la tierra OK! Long live Víctor Jara, Violeta Parra, Chile, and Norway, too! Make love not war, don't forget! Welcome to Chile! Gracias! We're on our way to the University of Santiago,- -to meet a man who was a student in 1973,- Juan

Brito, former student -and among those imprisoned when the military decided- -to enact one of the bloodiest coups in history. It was incomprehensible to us that they had so many bullets to fire at us. They shot at us throughout the night. We never fired a shot. We had no weapons. We only had our notebooks- -and the hope that the coup would fail. The students barricaded themselves in,- -not knowing that the coup was backed by the U.S. government. The Americans were terrified of the spread of soc

ialism in South America. The army killed the elected president Salvador Allende- -and imprisoned left-wing sympathisers nationwide. Among them was Víctor Jara, whom they took to Estadio Chile,- -a sort of underground sports venue they had converted into a prison camp. A friend of mine said: "Víctor is over there". "Let's go over to him." When we saw him up close, his face was covered in bruises. He was trying- -to keep close to us, because he felt he was in danger. I sat down and began to speak

with him. I asked him what had happened to Allende. Was he really dead? He replied: "Yes. Allende is dead." It was then that I knew that the country had changed definitively. That our cause ... It had ... It was all over. We stood here, hands on our necks, and up those stairs came a soldier. And he asked: "Where is Jara, the singer?" "Which one is Jara?" Victor came forward and said: "I am Victor Jara." Two of the soldiers took him and led him in the direction of the basement. One week after the

coup,- -his body was found in a mass grave just outside the city. His chest riddled with bullet holes. A huge gash in his abdomen and broken wrists. And so began the almost 20 years of military dictatorship in Chile. Where all left-wing music was banned,- -and it was illegal to even mention Víctor Jara's name. We're meeting Aglae Casanova. She was 13 when the coup happened,- -and was a student throughout the dictatorship. And while studying in Santiago- -she and a group of friends put on illega

l shows all over the city,- -featuring the musicians who were personae non gratae. Víctor Jaras poetry was revolutionary. Aglae Casanova, former student It was denunciatory poetry, it made demands. It was a poetry where things were called by their right name. But I think that the new wave of Chilean folk music,- -and the songs of Víctor Jara in particular, had the ability to gather,- -capture and unite the masses, to call the people to stand together. That, I think could pose a threat. Because t

hey always ... To use a worn-out phrase: They wanted to divide and conquer. And music brings people together. It unites us. In that sense, music could be dangerous to them. our labourer, who art beneath the dark sky "Plegaria a un Labrador" is a plea to the working class, or rather the worker. A song about how difficult it was to be a worker in Chile in the 1970's. But also about how fantastic it could be if the people united. It's a song packed with contrasts, both in melody and lyrics,- -which

can be used to make a real explosion of a song. And tomorrow I will meet a man who was actually there- -when the song was performed for the very first time in 1971,- -Eduardo Carrasco, from the folk group Quilapayún. The first thing he did was to look me up on YouTube. It seems- -he's considering whether he should let me into his house. A very formal sort of fellow. -Do you like it? -Yes. We played together. What was he like? What kind of person was he? Eduardo Carrasco, musician He was always

very dedicated. And you could say- -that he was always contemplating serious matters. He was by no means frivolous. But he would of course laugh. He wasn't stupidly serious. He was very much loved by the people. He was always close to the workers,- -always reaching out- -to the people, to those in need. I was wondering about the song ... What is it that makes this text so strong? It's based on "The Lord's Prayer". But it's not a prayer directed at God,- -it's a plea to humankind, to rise up. In

a way, it's the idea- -that Man decides his own fate. That's the idea. Not God. In the Lord's Prayer it says: "Thy will be done on Earth and in Heaven." But not here. "Thy will be done on Earth." Only on Earth. Only here. Not in the sky. our labourer who art beneath the dark sky It's all too easy to get short-sighted,- -only caring about the structure of the songs, the chords and the sound. All the musicians we've talked to here, think a lot bigger. They're not making a song because they found a

cool way to play D-major. They're making a song because they felt something and wanted to tell a story. And it doesn't have to be about love or politics, as is often the case in Norway: A song is either about politics or love. Or the ocean. One of three things. But here, they throw everything up in the air- -and just choose the bits that are appropriate. A song can be about the sea, love and politics at the same time. It's just crazy how they mange to make it into a whole. Into a complete piece

of music. -Now. -Oh, no, no! People say that during the dictatorship, music helped lift their spirits. It helped to unify them. It helped them to feel something- -in a society where it was basically illegal to feel. But if we forget the past, we're doomed to repeat it. And if music ... If songs like the ones Víctor Jara wrote,- -can remind us of what happened a mere 40 years ago,- -then that's helping to shape the future. It's helping us understand where we come from. And maybe let us know wher

e to go. However cliched that sounds. our labourer, who art among your brothers thine is the toil, the power and the soil glory be sown, and harrowed be the acres reach out your hand, and see a new day grow lead us not to misery, deliver us from domination kingdom of fairness and justice for all, kingdom come blow like the wind through the blossoming quebradas scour like the fire from the mouth of my gun finally, your will be done in factories and farmyards give us this day the strength and the

courage to fight and blow like the wind through the blossoming quebradas scour like the fire from the mouth of my gun our labourer of quarries, quays and chimneys reach out your hand and see a new day grow we'll go together this is the blood that binds us for ever and ever till death do us apart amen amen One of the very first hits when you search for censored music, is Pussy Riot. The amount of songs they've managed to get censored in Russia, borders on impressive. But ... it's not much to list

en to. It's absolutely terrible music. But I have tried. I've tried to uncover the essence of the song. Their core message, what they were imprisoned for. They've written a song which addresses- -the unholy alliance between Church and state in Russia. Between Vladimir Putin and patriarch Kirill Gundyayev. That's what got them a two-year prison sentence. Not noisy music and shouting. Not dancing on the altar. Not cursing in church. But singing a song that challenged the regime. So I've tried to m

ake a version of Pussy Riot. KGB have turned to saints gay parades sent off in chains blessed limousines congest the streets to hail their Saint-in-Chief holy Mary, drive Putin away drive away this darkness from your halls I didn't want to make this a politically correct, social democratic project,- -where I curated songs for the majority of my fanbase,- -women in the public sector, aged 40 to 55. Hi! Thanks for coming, by the way. I wanted to show that censorship not only happens- -to gorgeous,

wholesome men of the left, on the barricades playing guitar. It also happens to neo-Nazis, to Islamophobes, and to our next song. I included it on the record just to lessen my appeal to families with children. This is a song from Mexico. A narcocorrido, a drug ballad. It's a genre of its own in Mexico. Just like we have protest songs, they have corridos and narcocorridos. And narcocorridos are everywhere. They're about smuggling, money laundering, honour killings, gang culture ... You get the i

dea. All the fun things in life. -Have you ever had accidents with those? -No. -Why all the women and guns? -Mafia life is guns and women. -So it's a style? -Yes. Adrian Arce, Los Tucanes de Tijuana Did you see The Godfather? Don Corleone is "El Papá de los Pollitos". And everything is based on this cheerful ... ... polka. That's where I found a song to make me sufficiently popular. I make a living off three animals I love them dearly they make me money, and I don't even have to feed them they'r

e animals of the finest sort And worst of all, it didn't originally come out as a drug ballad. It was released as a children's song! That's how it was marketed. Mario Quintero, Los Tucanes de Tijuana There would be a journalist or two criticising our lyrics. They accused us of trying- -to influence the minds of children. To which I retorted: "Tell me, in which part of the song do I mention the word 'drugs'?" And so I managed to defend myself. I have a few people selling my animals they sell bett

er than burgers at McDonald's On the face of it, it's not a song about marijuana, cocaine and heroine,- -the three most commonly smuggled drugs. It's an innocent little thing. Like I said – a children's song. About a boy and his three animals. my parrot, my goat and my rooster the finest of pets that you'll find with them I bring joy wherever I go and make some to make things go round to New Mexico and Arkansas, and even to Illinois' shores I sell off my kids to the highest bid, and then I retur

n home for more I grew up to thrive among horses and I do not deny I was poor now my name is known throughout the plains and among the güeros in the north. and death rides ever by my side, and the high lords far behind for where there is will, there will be a way and my ways are hard to find money's a treacherous companion and that's why I spend mine with ease on women and friends, to smoothen the bends yeah, I keep just the little I need they say that my pets bring but pain and regrets and then

they ask me to pass them a booster it's the greatest of men who come again and again to my parrot, my goat and my rooster Insect repellent. I've been told it's a must. And there's just no soap to be had there, apparently. In comparison to the other countries we've visited,- -I know very little about Vietnam. We're visiting a man who's under house arrest in Vietnam. He's been in prison for four years, and just got out. He's now under house arrest for three years. For singing a song. In 2011 mass

protests broke out in Vietnam. The Chinese had placed oilrigs, exploration rigs, in Vietnam. And the Vietnamese government did nothing at all about it. Instead of criticising China, they cracked down on the people protesting. People were imprisoned, beaten. And Viet Khang, who we're about to meet,- -wrote a song lambasting the government. Which earned him a four-year prison sentence. There are two separate police units monitoring Viet Khang,- -making sure that he doesn't leave his house or have

visitors. We've kept all our communication encrypted,- -and been extremely careful, but you never know. We're just waiting for the car that will come and get us. We will not be spending any time outdoors in daylight. We're the only white people here, and people begin to stare immediately. So we're going straight out of the car and into the house- -where he's held under house arrest. We're doing it on a Saturday, during the holidays. Which most likely means that we can get in without any problem

s. I'll be asking some introductory questions, just to get the story going. Viet Khang, musician When people are afraid, they protest. This should be respected. The authorities have arrested and even beaten people. This worried me, and I thought a great deal about it. And so I wrote "Where is my Vietnam?" Around a month later, I was arrested. I was sentenced to 4 years in prison and 3 in house arrest. The authorities have banned other musicians from working with me. It makes it difficult for me

to work as an artist. This is where I recorded the music. This was the studio. The songs I sing come from my thoughts and feelings. I have to sing to set my feelings free. Nothing can stop it. That's just how it is. Today, there are many who sing about the same thing. About what is happening to our country. Truth is a powerful thing. my Vietnam I have known you for so long lately I've become aware of all your sorrow people are hungry and afraid while hundred miles away, their leaders pig on pork

chops and champagne my Vietnam there is rust upon your star and your wealth is with those who are in power they have betrayed your mountains and your rivers they have all failed you and sold your land away where are you now, my Vietnam? where are your daughters and sons? you must wake up and raise your voice as one and though we deal but little strokes, in time we will fell great oaks who's with me now? ask "Where is my, where's my Vietnam?" my Vietnam how many young and brave must sleep beneat

h the waves? must fall before the cannons? on Paracel and Spratly's bloody shores our name will stand or fall a thousand years of darkness still remain our own have invited China in they are cowards and lackeys of Beijing where are the heirs to your mountains and your rivers? they will be here when they hear your call to arms! so where are you now, my Vietnam? where are your daughters and sons? you must wake up and raise your voice as one and though we deal but little strokes, in time we will fe

ll great oaks hold your fist high, together we'll fight for a new Vietnam We've now spent 1,5 hours- -thoroughly examining the speck of sawdust in our brother's eye. We shall now examine the plank in our own. When I grew up, there was no talk about us being Sami. I grew up believing that we were second-rate Norwegians. I never understood why my parents couldn't speak proper Norwegian. My parents were very Christian, followers of Lars Levi Læstadius. They chose to take everything they heard from

men of the cloth- -and from missionaries ... They believed everything they were told about their culture. They distanced themselves from their own culture. We never heard joik. And whenever there was joik on the radio, we had to turn it off. And then in high school and teachers college,- -we had some very good teachers- -who introduced us to our own history. And ... A whole new world opened up to me. I began to make the connections. We were a people robbed of our culture,- -brainwashed into almo

st despising it. That's when I felt the anger rising inside me. Which just made songs and lyrics come pouring out. Forbidden feelings, plain and simple. I only eat what the earth has offered me, and no one owns the berries or leaves I later performed, and the stage became a place of safety. Much safer than being in real life. The stage quite simply became a home. you don't understand what it means to be of this land you have to learn how to read marks on the trees I didn't realise I was entering

a minefield. It was so important to my parents' generation to make us Christian. Removing us from all things pagan. And one thing was accepting- -that their daughter was engaged in the sinful business of music,- -but when I started to approach joik,- -that's when they said I had sold my soul to the Devil. leave and leave me be, I'll drive you away. We're one of the world's most enlightened countries, but know nothing- -about a people who live in the same country. To this day there's a ban on jo

ik in the churches of Kautokeino and Karasjok. My grandmother and grandfather had a Sami maid. My grandmother could count to ten. But when I asked her to teach me,- -my grandfather exclaimed: "You don't need to know that." Despite having grown up in an old coast Sami area,- -I have to go to the National Library to learn about it. -Hi! -Hi! Thanks a lot. I've actually never seen the original, only copies. "Suola ja Noaiddi". I've gathered the grass and berries of the earth And along came a man an

d called me a thief Part of the Sami struggle that Mari Boine talked about,- -was carried out in secret. But judging by this, even 200 years ago,- -sparks were flying in the intersection between Norwegian and Sami culture. The song was written down somewhere between 1819 and 1830. This is probably its first melody in 200 years. There's so much anger here. The Shaman shouts at the priest: "Poor man, you think yourself a god on Earth. Do you believe you own the trees?" "Hark, wretched Shaman! You

are a thief!" I only eat what the earth has offered me I remember when I grew up on Senja,- -seeing traces of a Sami settlement by the neighbouring fjord. But it was spoken about as a thing of the past. It was just stories, something you read about in old books and saw in museums. We were never told that it still exists around us. There were people in my class in high school named Boine, Hætta and Smuk. But none of them were ever outspoken- -about being of Sami heritage. And to play this song, g

ive a warm welcome to Marja Mortensson! frost in the air northern lights brought me here and where I walk, God walks with me I only eat what the earth has offered me, and no one owns the berries or leaves now you're in my house, and you call me a thief? you don't understand what it means to be of this land you have to learn how to read marks on the trees for the laws that you know, they don't apply here such mighty words! are you God? I hadn't heard are you the one who made the wind blow? well,

you must be great! a creation that can create? but the grass isn't yours, and you don't make it grow you are a sham don't you know who I am? I do not fold my hands I will never pray to what you call God all that I need -are ways to feed your greed - is earth beneath my feet -to have it all -to have it all shaman, you're a fraud! so leave and leave me be, I'll drive you away so leave and leave me be, I'll drive you away leave and leave me be, -I'll drive you away -I'll drive you away shaman, old

fool times change, and so shall you they will burn your house down and spit at your name but thief beware: my song will linger here and in time you will be sorry you came my friend, save your breath you're chanting in vain so leave and leave me be so leave and leave me be leave and leave me be, I'll drive you away I think people have been waiting for a project like this. Maybe anyone could have started it three years ago. It really was a zeitgeist thing. Freedom of speech is under threat in many

large, powerful countries. There are also tendencies in our part of the world. With social media we build echo chambers around ourselves,- -with increasingly thick walls. And I think we musicians are uniquely positioned to help break those walls. I think Unsongs is a product of its time. And regrettably I think these songs will become more relevant in the future. Although I hope I'm wrong. Thank you all for coming! And get home safely!