Island vibes with The Whitest Boy Alive

An interview with the German/Norwegian indie veterans

2026

Interview

DATE

The Whitest Boy Alive on a festival poster: it has become a rare phenomenon. Since their hiatus in 2014, the German/Norwegian disco-pop veterans are hardly ever seen together on stage anymore. But this year, the stars are aligned perfectly. For the twentieth anniversary of their debut album Dreams, the band is reviving the old days, like a bunch of old bandits from a movie who decide to pull off their infamous trick one last time. The loot? Five carefully selected stages, including Into The Great Wide Open.

‘A part-time pop star’ is how a sun-tanned Marcin Öz describes himself these days. ‘Most people go on vacation, I take time off to perform’, he laughs. He quite likes it. He grew tired of the hectic music scene years ago. Nowadays, he lives at a Mediterranean pace in Syracuse, Sicily. And his bass guitar? It only comes down from the attic when performances are on the agenda. ‘It is really special how well those songs stick. I never forget them, I hadn't played them in years, but when I pick up my bass again, I shake them out just like that...’ Before Marcin can finish his sentence, a cheerful German flashes onto the Zoom screen. It is keyboardist Daniel Nentwig, live from his home base in Berlin. The two greet each other enthusiastically: they haven't spoken since last March, when the band played a handful of shows in Mexico and Colombia. ‘Spectacular,’ Daniel calls it, looking back. ‘I don't know exactly how, but everything came together. We were just in an incredibly good mood. Anyway, I enjoy touring much more now that we are older. The first time you go to a new country, play a few shows and meet some people, it doesn't immediately mean you build a connection with a place. But when you return a few times and do the same, something starts to bloom. You develop a feel for a place.’

Hitting the brakes

The connection among the band members has also grown stronger, despite the increased physical distance. ‘We are a lot more mature than when we first started. We accept each other as we are, know each other's manuals and know that nothing is going to change about that anymore. That makes it much easier to get along together.’

How different that was in 2014, when the band yearned for a breather after six years of intensive playing. To make matters worse, singer Erlend Øye also contracted tinnitus. It forced the band to a halt. The foursome may have gathered themselves together again in the meantime, but a grueling tour schedule is no longer in the cards. Nowadays, the shows are chosen with care. Secretly quite nice, according to Daniel: ‘We only play when we really feel like it. You can't always see us play, but when you do see us, you know we are all in a very good place, physically and mentally.’ Marcin adds: ‘That approach also keeps it fun. We have been playing the same twenty songs for twenty years, in exactly the same way as before. Imagine if you had to do that all year round, I would go crazy. Quite special how that works, by the way: the chemistry never disappears. Sometimes we haven't played for years, but as soon as we are in a room together, everything flows back. You don't unlearn it, just like riding a bike.’ Daniel: ‘True, but you do forget how nice it actually is to ride a bike, to feel the wind in your hair. Then you realize: ‘Wow, this is so cool!’



Slowing down

One of the destinations on their carefully mapped-out mini-tour is Vlieland: a place the band cherishes warm memories of. Marcin: ‘Sixteen years ago we already played at Into The Great Wide Open, I can still remember that well. For example, I remember there were no cars. There is something very special about being somewhere where everything goes at a human pace, where you have to take your time to get from A to B. Daniel: ‘During the show things got pretty wild, I believe. Erlend even jumped into the audience. I also remember a campfire on the beach. I slid down a dune on my buttocks to get to the fire. Is that legal?’ 

Swimming in a bowl of broth

In addition to Vlieland, there is another island with a special place in their hearts: Sicily. Today, both Erlend and Marcin live on the Italian island. What exactly is so nice about island life? At least not the sky-high gas price and the blistering heat, Marcin laughs. ‘But it is great to have the sea on the horizon. I think it's important to be able to look very deep into the distance, that helps me put my daily troubles into perspective. And swimming, of course. It's wonderful to be able to take a cooling dip at any time of the day. Although, it's not that cool. The water is currently 30 degrees - like jumping into a bowl of broth. Can you swim a bit in the Wadden Sea? That seems a lot more pleasant to me.’

When we ask the duo to take a dip in our soup of artists, it remains quiet for a moment. Marcin, after a few seconds: ‘I really don't know anyone at all, haha! Where are all the old hands!?’ Daniel: ‘I've seen those two dotted guys on Instagram before. Angine de Poitrine. Their concept is of course super cool, but I've never heard them play for more than a few seconds. I am curious if that is also fun for an hour.’ Marcin: ‘We used to be much better informed about what was going on, nowadays that takes a bit more effort. Especially here in Sicily, which is still a kind of cultural desert. But that's exactly why I'm happy to come to a festival like this, where many relatively new, unknown bands are playing. I'm excited to discover things!’



NEWSLETTER

Receive POST, our newsletter about what moves, inspires, fascinates, or simply is fun.

INTO THE GREAT WIDE OPEN

INTO THE GREAT WIDE OPEN

INTO THE GREAT WIDE OPEN

NEWSLETTER

Receive POST, our newsletter about what moves, inspires, fascinates, or simply is fun.

INTO THE GREAT WIDE OPEN

INTO THE GREAT WIDE OPEN

INTO THE GREAT WIDE OPEN

NEWSLETTER

Receive POST, our newsletter about what moves, inspires, fascinates, or simply is fun.

INTO THE GREAT WIDE OPEN

INTO THE GREAT WIDE OPEN

INTO THE GREAT WIDE OPEN