Reykjavík Grapevine - 11.06.2004, Blaðsíða 30

by Eiríkur Norðdal
Ljúgðu Gosi, Ljúgðu (Lie Pinocchio, Lie) is a book of poems from
Iceland’s most insane poet/author. Steinar Bragi feels like an incandescent
and divine kick in the plebeian groin of society, a mad screaming “j’accuse!”
against just about everything, mostly the moralist j’accusers themselves. It’s
an utterly hopeless picture of the world, and completely void of any socially
redeeming value, or hippy ideas of common responsibility - written as the
poet’s bloody and wet farewell kiss to a testicle he lost through cancer. In an
Icelandic landscape of mostly boring poetry books, and boring whiny poets,
Steinar’s more or less overlooked poetry book creates pulsating hurrahs and
bravos where once there were, at best, only sighs of relief at realizing that
the poet had not completely soiled the trousers of creativity itself.
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Eiríkur Norðdal is a poet and member of the radical poetry
group Nýhil. He has so far published three poetry books of
his own works as well as translated the best selling Stupid
White Men by Michael Moore into Icelandic and made
a CD of a translation of Howl by Allen Ginsberg. He
currently resides in Ísafjörður and is working in his novel
Hugsjónadruslan (Idealist Slut, roughly -ed.) as well as
more Ginsberg translations for a printed collection.
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1. Ljúgðu Gosi, Ljúgðu (Lie Pinocchio, Lie) by Steinar Bragi.
2. Augu þín sáu mig (Your Eyes Saw Me) by Sjón
3. Ofvitinn (The Man Who Knew Too Much) by Þórbergur Þórðarson
4. Glímuskjálfti (Wrestling Tremors) collection of poems
by Dagur Sigurðarson
5. Gæludýrin (The Pets) by Bragi Ólafsson
6. Áhyggjudúkkur (Dolls of Worry) by Steinar Bragi
7. Þetta er allt að koma (We’re Getting There) by Hallgrímur Helgason
8. Tómas Jónsson -Metsölubók (Tómas Jónsson - Bestseller)
by Guðbergur Bergsson
The words of this book seem to be
shouting at each other, through an
endless interconnectivity of ideas and
basic play with contradictions that
escalate to a point where the reader
practically explodes in a neurotic fit of
laughter and shame. The community
of Pinocchio-words doesn’t allow
the rules of grammar to confine their
meaning - which is given about as
much respect as the plebeian intel-
ligentsia as the poet wonders, when
he has nothing better to do, if today
is not the day to stick one’s penis up
the presidents shithole. (this review
doesn´t allow the rules of grammar to
confine its meaning either -ed.) It’s a
community that beats with a natural
pulse, instead of keeping perfect time
in the ever going nationalist march
that is Icelandic culture.
But it’s more than just a punk book
somehow - and more than just mad
ramblings. There’s also a type of
sensitivity in it, the punk elements
aren’t there for their own sake, they’re
used to convey the feeling that society
consists mostly of wankers. Or to be
more precise: wanking. It’s the sort
of book that makes a man want to
get off his sofa-loving ass and cancel
his subscription to internet porn and
Morgunblaðið, and go dance in the
streets with an ever-loving hip-swing
of nihilistic joy. To resign the posi-
tion of spectator in one’s own life and
go around flipping the bird, picking
fights and giving hugs, kicking ass and
taking names - and numbers - to each
his own in a society of people that are
mostly too well raised to say anything
of importance - and yet admitting
that we all have the beautiful ability
to cease our eternal wanking and do
something more interesting than read-
ing bad poetry written by boring poets.
by Freyr Eyjólfsson
Megas og Spilaverk Þjóðanna - Á bleikum náttkjólum
I have listened to this album a million times and still haven´t found a
weak spot on it. Master Megas and one of the best ever Icelandic bands,
Spilaverk Þjóðanna (Spilaverkið for short), join forces, and the result is
an album that’s as Icelandic as dried cod, mutton and the cold wind. Leg-
end has it that Spilaverkið wanted to try to make one album with Megas
before he killed himself with his hard living, but then Megas surprised
everyone when he showed up at the studio with handwritten notes and
tons of songs.
Freyr Eyjólfsson is a presenter on Rás 2 radio station. He´s
also a member of the bands Miðnes and Geirfuglarnir, who
are currently Iceland’s reigning champions in the Battle of the
Bands pop quiz Popppunktur.
There´s some very Icelandic magic at
work here and this album manages
to be varied, surprising and clever.
Megas had just gotten the first
taste of punk and wrote the song
Paradísarfuglinn (Bird of Paradise)
where guitarist Valgeir Guðjónsson
plays the most manic guitar solo
I´ve heard on an Icelandic album.
The song chronicles independence
heroes, drug use, insanity, folk myths
and the lives of dock workers. Some
of the best moments are the upright
bass at the beginning of the album,
Megas´ wordless singing at the end
of Sæmundur Fróði (Sæmundur the
Wise), and Orfeus og Evrídís, one
of the most beautiful love poems
in existence. It is always said that
Megas is just a wordsmith, but he´s
just as good at composing music; just
listen to the singing on the album.
He sings Orfeus and Evrídís ten-
derly and beautifully, he screams out
Paradísarfuglinn and has a different
style on every track.
The chord arrangement in Útum-
holtoghólablús is both wired and
jazzy, one of his best songs. Karl
Sighvatsson shines on the Ham-
mond and the band as a whole are
outstanding.
When the album was remastered
and re-released a few outtakes were
included, which illustrate how much
fun it must have been when all this
talent came together in a studio
in 1977. A very Icelandic album
without equal in all of music history.
Acoustic jazz, psychedelia, folk, punk
and everything, listening to this is an
adventure in itself. Megas is the last
of the national poets; and a magican.
(He´s also a godlike genius with a
devilish grin -ed.)
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1. Megas og Spilaverk Þjóðanna: Í bleikum náttkjólum
(In pink nightgowns)(see above)
2. Stuðmenn:Tívolí.
3. Langi Seli og Skuggarnir: Rottur og kettir. (Rats and Cats).
4. Mínus: Halldór Laxness.
5. Spilverk Þjóðanna: Sturla.
6. Björk: Vespertine.
7. Bubbi: Ísbjarnarblús.
8. Ske: Life, Death, Happiness and Stuff.
by Robert Douglas
Róbert Douglas is of mixed Irish-Icelandic parentage. He first came to
prominence through winning a series of awards at short film festivals. He
has directed two feature length films; Íslenski draumurinn (The Icelandic
Dream) and Maður eins og ég (A Man Like Me). His latest film, out this
year, is Slá í gegn (Small Mall), a documentary about the life and dreams
of people working in a mall.
The best Icelandic film in my opinion is
Georg Lifandi Lag (George Live Song),
a short film made by the production
group Lortur and portrayed an Icelandic
karaoke singer who dreams of fame and
fortune in his chosen field. He heads off
to Denmark to make it on the karaoke
scene. This is one of the funnier shorts
I´ve seen. Everyone´s acting is astound-
ingly good and the idea is good and well
executed, and even if it is somewhat raw
in parts it works very well, again pri-
marily because of the humour. I don´t
particularly like writing long treatises on
films that I´ve seen, they´re either good
or bad…and this was good. It would be
fun to see this made into a full length
feature one day. This is my top 8 list,
but like all lists it changes from day to
day and depending on the mood.
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1. Georg Lifandi Lag. Short film by Lortur.
2. Varði Does Europe. Documentary by Grímur Hákonarsson.
3. Lost Weekend. Short film and graduation project
by Dagur Kári (director of Nói Albínói)
4. Rokk í Reykjavík. Documentary by Friðrik Þór.
5. Amtmannsstígur 5. Short film by Jón Sæmundur.
6. Verði fer á vertíð Documentary by Grímur Hákonarson.
7. Klósettmenning. (Toilet Culture) Short film by Rúnar Rúnarsson
8. Burst. Short film by Reynir Lyngdal.
Ljúgðu Gosi, Ljúgðu
by Steinar Bragi
Á Bleikum Náttkjólum
Megas &
Spilverk Þjóðanna
Georg Lifandi Lag
Short film by Lortur