“People have always been good at imagining the end of the world,” wrote
Rebecca Solnit, “which is much easier to picture than the strange sidelong
paths of change in a world without end.”
The future won’t look like the past: dystopian dread takes this for granted,
but utopian imagination is just as valid. Future Politics, Austra’s third, and
most ambitious album to date, calls for radical hope: “a commitment to
replace the approaching dystopia,” says Katie Stelmanis, who leads Austra
with the support of Maya Postepski (Princess Century, TR/ST), Dorian Wolf,
and Ryan Wonsiak. “Not just hope in the future, but the idea that everyone
is required to help write it, and the boundaries of what it can look like are
both fascinating and endless. It’s not about ‘being political,’ it’s about
reaching beyond boundaries, in every single field.”
Future Politics, a collection of urgent, but disciplined anthems for dancefloor
and headphones, asks each of us to remember that apocalypse is not an
inevitability, but the product of human decision-making. It aims for a world
without borders, where human compassion and curiosity drive technological
innovation rather than profit, where the necessity of labor is replaced with
time for creativity and personal growth, and the terror and destruction
wrought by colonialism and white supremacy is recognized as a dark age in
human history. The album is radicalism distilled: to galvanic beats, gorgeous,
kinetic melodies, and the vulnerable majesty of Stelmanis’s voice. “Future
Politics,” with its steady, propulsive beat and siren-like synth hook, is both
anthem and ultimatum: we have a duty to imagine better, and to imagine
big.
Stelmanis, wrote, produced and engineered the album, with Maya Postepski
adding production on half the tracks. It was mixed by Alice Wilder, the
band’s live engineer, and mastered by Heba Kadry in New York. But its
haunting first single, “Utopia,” is heart-filling, irresistible pop that feels
pulled from the air. “Freepower” deals with the paradox of a physical world
in peril while our collective consciousness evolves—there is no denying our
reliance on each other and the systems we invent. “To solve the problems of
global capitalism,” Stelmanis says, “you need to think on the level that global
capitalists are thinking.”
Making Future Politics was a process of starting from zero. Austra’s debut,
2011’s Feel It Break, and 2013’s critically celebrated Olympia, were followed
with five years of non-stop touring, and half a decade without a fixed
address. Katie settled in Montreal, where she found herself alone, facing
both a language barrier and the dissolution of a few faith-sustaining
relationships, romantically and within the band. “I knew writing this record
would have nothing to do with music at first,” Stelmanis says. “It needed to
have a purpose other than just my own ego.” The album’s center suite, “I’m
a Monster” through “Angel in Your Eye,” is about the intersection of
personal depression and collective despair.
Despair can be paralyzing, but it can act as a compass—the less you can
ignore, the more you have to act. “I had a process of overcoming my own
cynicism,” Stelmanis says. “I came to a whole bunch of philosophers and
economists who were writing about real possibilities for reinventing society.”
Texts that took a realistic approach to climate change and economic disaster,
while offering real alternatives: Inventing the Future: Postcapitalism and a
World Without Work by Nick Srnicek and Alex Williams; Naomi Klein’s This
Changes Everything; David Harvey’s Rebel Cities. The album’s opener, “We
Were Alive,” is about “overcoming apathy—becoming more political, and
more earnest.”
In 2015, Stelmanis moved to Mexico City, where the album was completed.
(The cover art was photographed at the Cuadra San Cristóbal, Mexican
architect Luis Barragán's famous equestrian estate.) "It was an invigorating,
and creatively liberating time—I was entirely immersed in the culture, and in
the magic realism of Mexico's rich and violent history," Stelmanis says.
"Economic disparity is a huge topic of conversation every day in Mexico, as is
colonialism and neoliberalism, and how NAFTA fucked over Latin America.
Reading about this history and contrasting it with the white capitalist theory
I had learned in school made the issues I was reading about in Montreal feel
more global, and feel bigger.” The album’s final track, “43,” is about the 43
students disappeared in Iguala, Guerrero in 2014, written from the
perspective of a mother who is searching for her son.
In Mexico, Stelmanis was introduced “to a whole generation of Latin
American producers who are mixing traditional folk music with techno beats.
It’s an underground revolution rooted in the preservation and celebration of
Latin American indigenous cultures, and also Latin American independence
from the USA—very similar to what A Tribe Called Red is doing in Canada.”
Inspiration also came from European club culture—Objekt, Peter Van
Hoesen, Lena Willikens, and ‘90s legends like Massive Attack; in all, artists
who understand the dancefloor as a source of radical ideas and radical joy.
Stelmanis’s music has always had a political charge—after high school she
performed in the riot grrrl band Galaxy, with Postepski and Emma
McKenna—but this “has become more important as I’ve gotten older. I’ve
experienced more sexism in my industry, I’ve witnessed the downfall of the
middle class, I’ve lived through George W. Bush and Stephen Harper.” (Her
latest album credits only women as producers, mixing and mastering
engineers.) This is a reversal of the cliché that radicals get more conservative
with age. If you’re old enough to have seen both the nightmarish and the
fantastical become ordinary, but young enough to imagine the rest of your
life, the more radicalism seems like common sense.
Change, Solnit writes, comes from “writers, scholars, public intellectuals,
social activists, and participants in social media”—also “artists, club scenes,
parties, teenagers, ghettoes,” says Stelmanis. “Every single person’s idea
about the future is valid and relevant, especially the freaks and the queers
and the outsiders.” This is DIY on a global scale: the ethos of a self-made,
self-determining culture, but with global imperatives. “To change the
cultural landscape—which is what we do as artists—is to essentially change
the mainstream.”