Ani Even

Blending Nordic mysticism, personal transformation, and ritualistic sonic worlds, Ani Even’s SKINWALKER dives into identity, heritage, and emotional rebirth — inviting listeners into a raw, immersive space of confrontation and release.

1. SKINWALKER feels both ancient and futuristic — a kind of ritual in sound. How did your North Atlantic roots (Greenland, Faroe Islands, Denmark) shape the textures and emotions of this album?

Myths from greenland about spirits and supernatural beings are quite fascinating to me as they come from inuit oral tradition and exist to warn generations about certain weather pattern, ice-related dangers and why we die and live. My grandmother came from the Faroe Islands and would often sing me Faroese songs of which I didn’t understand lyrically, but her enthusiasm definitely brought the point across. I have never physically been to either Greenland or the Faroe Islands (yet), as I ripen in life, questions regarding my heritage rise, which has brought me further to the salty and cold mysticism of these places.

2. The idea of the Skinwalker — a being of transformation — runs through your work. What personal transformations were you confronting while creating this record?

On a personal level I dealt with several challenges. These include fatherhood and the drastic responsibilities which follow and getting diagnosed with ADHD, which cleared up a lot of self-hate and made room for self-forgiveness.

3. You’ve described Ani Even as a space where “masculinity, softness, queerness, chaos, and responsibility coexist.” How does performing as Ani Even allow you to explore identities that might not fit into everyday life?

Similar to the world of drag, when I become the character Ani Even (dressed up, contacts, haunting and savage) the role lets me funnel and amplify natural feelings into something larger than myself. The theatrical force of this opportunity is something I hope spectators can mirror into or help with a self-understanding – a hint of therapy in there 😉

4. The album mixes darkwave, Nordic chants, industrial beats, and something you call chantcore or caverave. Can you talk about how those sonic worlds came together — and what ritual means to you in a musical context?

Chantcore and Caverave covers my musical expressional need. Within these self-made boundaries I can go hard and soft, and always relate to the esoteric, animalistic, savage, vocal and ritualistic.

5. The release concert takes place in Brønshøj Vandtårn — a monumental, echoing water tower. Why did you choose that space, and how does architecture influence the way you design sound and performance?

Brønshøj Vandtårn is a watertower in Copenhagen turned venue/gallery/performance space. The room is monumental and has a reverb of around 20-40 seconds depending on frequency – what a challenge to perform electronic music there! It was very successful and had a sense of ritual set between the raw concrete columns. I find it interesting to perform music in unusual places, it gives the spectator a completely different experience that a classic venue, I’m quite inspired by Norberg Festival (SE) in which they hold concerts in an abandoned mine or Ozora Festival (HU) which takes place in the industrial estate of a powerplant. 10/10 would love to do another specific show for Brønshøj Watertower.

6. There’s a strong emotional current in SKINWALKER — themes of addiction, fatherhood, and self-acceptance. When listeners step into this world, what do you hope they confront, release, or transform in themselves?

I hope they confront exactly those emotions you mention. It’s interesting to see what happens when you let go of your art and leave it to the public to decide what it means to them.

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