What do New Zealand, Hamburg, abstract painting, philosophy, and indie pop have in common? Quite a lot, if you ask Cate Martin. The vocalist and lyricist of Ivy Flindt has a talent for turning personal observations into songs, while leaving enough space for listeners to find their own meaning in them. Ahead of the release of their new EP Sphinx, we spoke with Cate about travel, creativity, her musical partnership with Micha Holland, and why sometimes the only way to deal with what’s coming is to take a deep breath, get on the horse, and ride straight towards it.
It’s a pleasure to meet you, Cate, and thank you very much for taking the time to speak with us. We’re especially interested in talking not only about Ivy Flindt’s music, but also about the artistic disciplines that have shaped you as an author. You were born in New Zealand, and today you live and work in Hamburg. How did this journey unfold, and which places have had the greatest influence on the way you perceive music?
Hey there, thank you so much for taking the time to ask me about my music and for showing such interest. I really appreciate this!
I was born in Hamburg, and when I was in school, I found out you could spend a year abroad, live with a host family, live somewhere else, go to a different school and still not get into trouble. I was thrilled about this incredible opportunity, and off I went. Why New Zealand? My idea was to be as far from home as possible, ’cause why not? Later, I returned to my beloved host family and had my first shows in New Zealand, at Fat Eddies in Christchurch and Al’s Bar. Years later again, I started studying fine arts at Massey University in Wellington, NZ, after going on a challenging field trip, living in a tent and climbing all sorts of mountains and volcanoes for a month. So yes, New Zealand is where I became myself!
You studied philosophy, literature, and abstract painting, and today you write profound indie-pop music. The official Ivy Flindt website places particular emphasis on your work with abstract painting. When you pick up your brushes and stand in front of a canvas, does the music fall silent for a moment, or are visual art and songwriting, for you, different forms of the same creative impulse?
I paint when there is nothing left for me to say. Music depends on my ability to put stuff into words. It depends on my ability to put stuff I care about into melodies. But there is stuff I care about that I feel can’t be articulated musically, and I still feel the urge to bring it into some sort of communication. That is when I paint.
Journalists sometimes mistakenly refer to Ivy Flindt as a solo project or as a singer, although it is, in fact, a fully fledged duo. How do you usually explain in interviews that Ivy Flindt is a partnership between two authors with clearly defined roles, rather than simply a stage name?
Very well spotted! Ivy Flindt is a name for the third perspective that comes to life when Micha and I start to create. We wanted to honor it by giving it a first name and a surname, ’cause we feel that’s what it deserves. We are okay with it being mistaken for a solo project, though. Fair enough! That’s what you get if you choose such a conceptual name. There is nothing conceptual about our music, though, so it does not bother us at all.
Music critics often highlight your harmonious partnership: Micha creates the detailed acoustic environment and architecture of the track, while you fill it with emotional content and poetry. How easy is it for you to find a balance between strict form and emotional freedom?
If wedon’t agree on stuff, we don’t pursue it. Per Sunding, who produced our debut IN EVERY MOVE, taught us to always fight for the better idea rather than fight a person, which may have happened when we were younger. But he taught us well to set aside our own egos and just go for the better idea. It’s very soothing to speak to Per about this. If you get a chance, go for it! Also, if the music doesn’t feel right to me, I simply don’t feel the urge to
sing. And if I don’t feel there is anything for me to add, I won’t. So that’s when we need to figure out a way that still makes me wanna sing if we want my vocals.
Your music has been described as art pop, arthouse pop, and cinematic pop. Which of these definitions feels closest to you – and do you ever feel like simply replying, “They’re songs, guys – just songs”?
All the time. That’s what I am saying all the time. Songs, I am writing songs. And I can only hope they mean something to someone. Call them what you like!
Ivy Flindt is now opening a new chapter with the ‘Sphinx’ EP. The title is quite meaningful – and, to be honest, it carries a certain degree of mystery. Why the Sphinx?
’Cause it does take the decency of a sphinx to lead a proper life, to fight your way through the music industry and still feel like you wanna share something. The Sphinx withstands the test of time, and I hope our art will too, as we try to stand up for what we believe in.
Let’s talk about “What I Call Home”, which appears on the ‘Sphinx’ EP. You described it as a story about pain that can still be seen from a distance, but can no longer be avoided. It’s a very human state: sometimes we understand that something is going to hurt, and yet we still move towards it. Why are we so drawn to the very things our minds advise us to keep away from?
To me, it is more about something you have no choice but to face.
Your description contains a very cinematic image: taking a deep breath, mounting a horse, and still riding towards whatever is going to hurt you. Where did this image come from? And why a horse in particular?
Have you ever galloped a horse without holding on to its reins, out in the open, icy air hitting your face, just going for it? Give it a go yourself. Maybe it will make you feel what I was after when I wrote these lines!
Micha spoke about wanting to make the arrangement feel “earthy”, warm, and slightly dusty – with 1960s transistor organs and a Fender bass. How important is it for you that a song’s sound should correspond to its inner landscape?
Oh, it’s the foundation of it all!
And one final question – slightly outside the realm of music. If you set aside your career, releases, and all professional definitions, what does feeling at home mean to you today?
That’s a wonderful final question. I will keep the answer to myself.
