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Dag för Dag

As always when one is about to tell an interesting story, the first question that comes to mind is: where to begin?

Do I begin mid-Carter era when our heroes were born, both on the wings of a warm wind swooping over the wild southwestern plains. Or do I begin where the two siblings, Sarah Parthemore Snavely and Jacob Donald Snavely, are separated and left to search each for their own lives and times, where they began to wander the earth not really knowing where home was until they figured it was just nowhere and simply kept on wandering, from Missoula where time seems to fly differently than it does anywhere else, to Wisconsin where the streets are long and grey, to Honolulu, to a gritty 90’s London, to the devil knows where, to San Francisco, and we all know what goes on there.

Or do I begin where things really begin to matter, on the day when the Snavely siblings woke up to a clear but unfamiliar sky to find that they were no longer separated but sharing a one-room crow’s nest in a bourgeoise part of Stockholm in the far lands of Sweden.

I suppose that is where they actually begin, the adventures of the two reunited siblings that not too long after that strange new morning became known as Dag för Dag.

For the two wanderers with no place to call home, Sweden seemed as good a place as any to settle down for a while, buy a bicycle, fall in love, fall from grace, wake up new, pick up a guitar, steal a 4-track, take mercy on an abandoned piano, and get to work.

Now, that may all be fair and square.

But what to do when you find yourself having done all that it takes to make a strange place your home, and you sit there by your abandoned piano, clutching your stolen 4-track, and it all washes over you. The faces you have left behind and the ones you have learned to love, the scents and stenches of your past and present, the sound of an unintelligible language that no one in their right mind would ever care to understand drowning out the stinging lullabies of the kid with scraped knees and a prematurely toughened heart you once were.

What then?

You put it in songs, my dears. You make your guitar scream out the words you can’t, you let that old piano do your crying and you chew your knuckles bloody out of joy, out of desire, out of sorrow and of rage, and you do it like Dag för Dag, day by day.

For Dag för Dag, the first question that comes to mind is no longer where to begin, but where this life will take them next.

My guess is plain and simple. Far.

Bebban Stenborg
Los Angeles, October 2008

Press

Links

Dag för Dag on mySpace
Dag för Dag on Facebook

Spotify

EP art: Carl von Arbin, www.cmva.se
Web: FAR Studios

Band manager
Don Snavely, don@dagfordag.com

Press enquiries
Laura Tomlinson, laura@dagfordag.com

yakub@dagfordag.com | sarah@dagfordag.com