Lebanon HanoverInterview
In search of real feeling — a heartfelt interview with Larissa Iceglass, one half of the modern age romantics Lebanon Hanover.
Photo by Isolde Woudstra
They did not meet in Berlin. They did not meet at a show or through a mutual friend or in some smoky corner of a city that likes to think of itself as the centre of something. Larissa Georgiou, an art student from Switzerland, and William Morris, from Sunderland in the north of England, found each other on Last.fm — a music website — by trading 1980s YouTube videos back and forth across the internet. From that exchange came a visit, a cramped house in a post-industrial coastal town that neither of them particularly liked, and a band. Lebanon Hanover — named after two neighbouring towns in New Hampshire that have no connection to each other beyond geography — played their first show in October 2010. The rest, as the saying goes, is history. Though in 2013, when this conversation took place, it was barely the beginning.
At the time of this interview, Lebanon Hanover had released two albums in 2012 — The World Is Getting Colder and Why Not Just Be Solo — and were deep inside the making of their third, Tomb for Two, which would arrive later that year. "Gallowdance," the single that would eventually go viral and make Larissa's rope necklace a recognisable image across the global underground, had just been released. The band was living in Maybelline's parents' house in Sunderland to keep costs down, writing every day, largely isolated from the world they were trying to address. Their sound — sparse bass, cold drum machine, Larissa's deadpan voice hovering just above the reverb — was already forming something that a lot of people needed without knowing it yet.
A decade later Lebanon Hanover are a cult band in the full sense of the word: seven albums, performances at Primavera Sound and Wave-Gotik-Treffen, a fanbase that spans continents and finds its own reflection in the lyrics about alienation, longing, and the difficulty of being a sensitive person in an insensitive time. Larissa and William split as a couple in 2013 — the same year this interview was published — and have continued making music together ever since, now living in different cities: she in Berlin, he in Newcastle. William has a solo project, Qual, pushing into EBM and industrial territory. In 2025 Isolde Woudstra — the same photographer whose image opens this page — directed A Beautiful Place, a documentary following the band across their European tour. Reading this conversation now, what strikes you is how clearly Larissa already knew what she was doing and why. The world she was describing in 2013 has not improved. If anything, her diagnosis has become more accurate with time.
Photo by Polar Noire
We were both born in a place we didn't particularly like. I am from Switzerland, actually. The cultural difference is pretty big between the sterile Swiss and the rundown, rather primitive, Northern British lifestyle. It really shapes our music that we are constantly searching for a comfortable, exciting and creative place. Actually we still haven't really found a home. Berlin was inspiring but after three years — too humdrum and cold. Currently we are having a taste of the Ruhr Area in Germany and are pretty happy there.
I think we are two very different musical elements. This was our great fascination with each other from the start and it was never difficult to work with each other. More like an instant chemistry. I adore William's baselines, rhythms and structures, and he likes my chaotic, strange-sounding, haunting voice, lyrics and guitars. There is no concept or anything like that. All we wanted was to sound underproduced and nostalgic, because we were irritated by the digital and inorganic sounds we hear everyday. Since we are thinking very similarly, there is hardly any compromise — only criticism, which is good and helps the final product. Sometimes we work up to two months on a song, until we are both completely happy with it.
Times are hard for romantics in this century. The world wants us to survive alone, do everything by ourselves and treat people like we don't need them. We find this terribly sad, for we have a very big longing for bonds and true friendships. I think people have become generally way too lazy to even reflect about the separation that is happening at the moment. The internet and smart phones have even made us more lazy and the real passions of life, art, nature, literature and love is just non existent. True love is something we really hope survives, but it can only survive when people become more individualistic and self-determined. It's the individuals that make society and I believe that every single one can make a change.
"Times are hard for romantics in this century."
— Larissa Iceglass
The moment of creating a song. I absolutely live for the moment you take the microphone, connect with your subconscious, sacrifice yourself to your inner melodies and put all of your heart into a track. Music is the most honest form of art for me, and therefore Lebanon Hanover is the very centre of both our lives. It's not just a side project or anything, it's our vocation and we could die for it. We do it merely for ourselves. To entertain was not the most important thing to do at the start, but I have to say that to be face to face with an audience and to fill the silence of the room with your own words and sounds is very touching and always an exciting experience.
Aesthetically we are drawn to romantic art nouveau and the 1920s and 1980s. Old framed black and white photos, movies, clothes. We love the well-mannered androgynous look — dressed in gloom.
I think it's important that our image reflects the depression of the 21st century that we all have to go through. Our favorite art form is literature. I am too sensitive for movies. Too many effects and sexual brutality scare me, so we mainly spend our spare time reading and imagining the words becoming pictures. Some name dropping of things we read at the moment: Oscar Wilde, Thomas Bernhard, Alice Schwarzer, William Wordsworth. Of course, music is always inspiring too, if a band has depth and honesty like for example Malaria!, Kraftwerk, DAF, The Smiths. I can be very fond of them, but I don't listen to much music at the moment.
It's a tragic place actually. We mainly moved there to live for free at William's parents', to be able to write music and explore the forests and the sea during the night. It was disheartening when we were completely isolated and shut off from the beautiful people we would have liked to be with. Only for the sake of our art we moved there. Though it was a very productive time and we were able to write music and lyrics every day, which counts in the end if it's all you live for. But I am very glad we finally escaped to Germany.
"Lose Your Digital Life" is a line from a new Lebanon Hanover song. It is an encouragement, a command from a hopeless nostalgic to bring people together in real life, but I too am unfortunately dependent on the internet and it is sadly impossible to lose it. The internet is a very informative and great tool to learn, but most people use it for distraction or cruelty. I am afraid of the future and not sure if it really connects humans, because after all we are not "together" if everyone is in their own smartphone at a party. The critical minds, I guess, there is just not enough of them.
"Music is the most honest form of art for me."
— Larissa Iceglass
Paulius Ilius
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