But they don’t know P. J. Olsson–yet. Before today, Olsson’s debut album, “Words for Living,” wasn’t even out, and he was busy honing his pleasant bastardization of pop for niche audiences across the country. They simply pay attention because the eccentric composer does not fit in–a distinction that’s finally working for P. J. Olsson. “People always used to say, ‘Well, he hasn’t really found his thing, found who he is yet’,” says Olsson, who baffled audiences for years with a melange of breezy psychedelia, skittering, synthesized effects and blinding white noise. “It’s like, ‘What are you talking about? This is my thing!’ "
That “thing” has come to fruition on his eclectic debut. It features Olsson’s peculiar wordplay (“Love is my Thorazine, lithium, hell and hand cream”), his layered loops of rhythms and his sweet, redemptive voice. It’s what Olsson calls “clean” music–perfectly produced pop with an underlying dissonance. “I always followed crazy minimalist stuff, then realized it’s bands like the Eagles and Carly Simon that I truly love,” admits Olsson. “Some of those songs bring tears to my eyes. I wanna do that, but I also still have the crazy thing. It’s like, ‘How am I gonna hit that perfect mix?’ "
Olsson’s ease with meshing far-flung styles is partly inspired by the modernist tendencies of his father, a 12-tone composer and orchestra conductor. By the age of 13, Olsson was playing violin and synthesizer over prerecorded, looped tracks on his boombox, then found a band to approximate the sounds he created. “I had one particular verse that went on for 20 minutes,” says Olsson, recalling shows he’d play at a local club in Houghton, Mich. “I would scream and drop to my knees and make these sounds [gargles like a garbage dis-posal mangling a spoon]. My friends would be like, ‘Dude, what are you doing?’ " It’s a question the ever-changing Olsson has yet to answer.
