Reykjavík Grapevine - 25.08.2006, Blaðsíða 24

summer Concert series
june 8th · 15th · 22nd · 29th july 6th · 13th · 20th · 27th august · 3rd · 10th · 17th · 24th · 31st september 7th

where
whO
Sirkus
Mínus and
Langi Seli og
Skuggarnir Feminist philosopher Sandra Harding is perhaps best
known for her critique on Western science’s claim to
complete and utter objectivity and “universal reason”.
According to her, true math-like objectivity can never
be had, as any- and everyone’s view of the world is
ultimately dependent (and thus tainted) by his/her
viewpoint. Unlike many so-called post-modernists,
however, Harding’s answer to this conundrum isn’t
that we should abandon our search for objective truth;
although it may indeed be unattainable, some forms
of discourse are clearly more objective than others.
Her solution comes in the form of a method she calls
‘Standpoint-epistemology’ and entails that those en-
gaging in any form of discourse examine and divulge
factors in their values and viewpoint that may affect
the conclusions they draw. She claims that by embrac-
ing these ‘stronger standards’ for objectivity, we’re that
much closer to drawing truthful and unoppressive
conclusions about our subjects.
As I have no interest in writing oppressive lies,
here are some things to bear in mind while reading
the following concert review of local legends Mínus
and Langi Seli & Skuggarnir:
-I am a member of a band that shares a practice space
with Mínus.
-I have been a big fan of Mínus ever since they re-
leased their first album. The only five-star review I’ve
ever written was for their last album, Halldór Lax-
ness. In that review, I used many exclamation marks.
-Mínus kind of scare me. No, not kind of, they just
plain scare me. I am afraid they will beat my ass if I
give them a negative review.
That said, Mínus’s Culture Night show at Sirkus was
in most respects fucking awesome. And opening band
Langi Seli & Skuggarnir were pretty awesome too.
Yeah, it was a good night.
The annual Culture Night festival has in the dec-
ade or so since its inception evolved into some kind of
monster, with many of its guests reportedly leaving out
the whole ‘culture’ bit in lieu of drunkenly wandering
through downtown, taking in the occasional happening
or concert here and there. This year’s festival wasn’t any
different and I was confronted by quite many drunken
wanderers as I made my way to Sirkus’s back yard at
8 p.m. to catch the much-hyped appearance of Mínus
and Langi Seli & Skuggarnir. In retrospect, that whole
atmosphere contributed greatly to the show, as both
bands play a kind of music that invites and encourages
drunken stumbling, vomiting, bathroom encounters
and various other forms of debauchery.
Langi Seli & Skuggarnir are a rockabilly quartet
that released their sole LP more than 15 years ago and
have risen to near mythical status since on account of
their supposedly legendary live shows. They took the
stage to the applause of an interestingly mixed crowd
of teenagers waiting for Mínus, wandering children
and their intoxicated, middle-aged parents. Shade-
wearing, leather-jacketed singer/guitarist Langi Seli
certainly had the whole rockabilly look down to a T,
while the bass player sported an electric upright bass
that fully made up for what he may have lacked in the
style department. The type of music LSS specialise
in all sounds rather similar to my untrained ears; the
main difference between bands in that genre being
that for whatever reason, some simply suck while oth-
ers do not. And LSS made it clear early on that they
belonged to the latter camp. Technically proficient,
rhythmic and driving, the music was meant to sound
like music played by people wearing leather jackets
and shades – and they did a fine job of it. My only
real complaint about LSS’s show is that the fading
daylight didn’t really become them, their songs really
sound like they’d work that much better in a dark,
smoke-filled environment.
Oh, of course, the show sounded awful, a problem
that would remain throughout the night. Depend-
ing on your position, you would either hear only the
bass or the vocals with some guitars creeping in if one
tilted one’s ears at a certain degree. But it didn’t really
matter. After all, this was Culture Night. And that’s
not about sounding fine or even being audible. It’s
about shaking, bumping and grinding – acts to which
LSS provide a fine soundtrack.
After a brief encore, Mínus singer Krummi took
the stage to announce that on account of some unfore-
seen problems, their show was delayed for a couple
of hours and would take place after the evening’s
fireworks display. Some people with acoustic guitars
appeared and looked like they were about to play
what I guessed would amount to some kind of hippie
noodling. Wanting to preserve the atmosphere of
decadence LSS had installed in me, I decided to f lee
Sirkus and check out what was happening downtown.
I am incredibly bored by hippies, noodling and
Jeff Buckley, but no matter what those furry folk
played at the Sirkus stage during Mínus’s delay, it
couldn’t have been worse than what I was faced with
downtown. I found myself stuck in hell, crushed,
Roskilde-style, between groups of senior citizens
and baby-carrying suburbanites, all the while being
forced to listen to Mezzoforte’s absolutely awful take
on elevator-jazz. In all fairness, the sound quality
was good and they probably didn’t hit a false note.
Problem was, they didn’t manage to hit a remotely
interesting one either. Soul-less, technically shiny
scale-driven garbage, Mezzoforte actually sounds like
music written for robots, by robots. Satanic paedo-
phile robots. In hell. The only positive thing about
the whole spectacle was that it was kind of decadent,
in a suburban way: amongst other things, I saw a man
in his fifties spew a mixture of beer and cotton candy
in front of his adoring family.
After a drab fireworks display, I somehow finally
made my way back to Sirkus, just in time for Mínus’s
second song. By that time, it was completely dark out
and the crowd filling Sirkus’s back yard had grown
considerably. In front of the stage, a small mosh pit
was throbbing in time with the furious grind-attack
of a Jesus Christ Bobby number whose name I forget.
A squeal of feedback punched me in the back of the
neck and all of the sudden I remembered just how
much I used to get from watching Mínus perform.
This was indeed an important show for Mínus,
with them returning to the stage after a year of recu-
peration and inactivity. Before their leave of absence,
they had played some pretty bad shows, displaying a
lack of imagination and passion with both their an-
noying cock-rock-like demeanour and new songs that
didn’t seem to go anywhere. I walked out on them last
year, appalled by an act that used to leave me inspired.
As the show went on, however, it became apparent
that the show was a much-needed and longed-for
return to form for a band that had swayed off course.
As far as I could tell through the muddled sound,
their playing was incredibly tight. Mínus is composed
of some skilled instrumentalists who have played
together for a very long time, bouncing off each other
with a renewed vigour and energy. Their set list was
a mix of songs off their last two albums interspersed
with new tracks. While not exactly inventive, the
new songs display a return to the more cacophonous
sounds of JCB, blending melodic choruses with
confusingly aggressive verses in a manner reminiscent
of Laxness favourite Romantic Exorcism. The final
outcome of their recent songwriting efforts will of
course depend on the way they manage to present
themselves in the studio without the aid of longtime
collaborator Curver, by all accounts a big contributor
to their sound.
The mosh pit up front got increasingly aggressive
and reached a kind of climax in the midst of the furi-
ous and seldom heard Misdo. A group of bare-chested
hooligans that included Messrs Handsome and Mista
took to climbing onto the clear plastic sheeting that
served to guard the stage from the possibility of rain.
It looked unsafe and scary and for a second I was wor-
ried that the whole thing would collapse and kill the
band, thereby preventing me from hearing how some
studio time would benefit its new songs. For whatever
reason, the plastic held up fine, but the threat seemed
to hasten the night’s descent into noisy chaos.

Return to Form
By Haukur Magnússon Photo by Skari
review
whEN
August 19th
2006
free entrance
21:00 café amsterdam, hafnarstræti 5
500 iSK
free entrance
21:00 Café Amsterdam, Hafnarstræti 5
500 iSK
 gues
 gues
ursday August 31th
ursday september 7th
ReyKjavík!
reykjavík!
17:00 gallerí humar eða frægð, klapparsstígur 27
17:00 gallerí humar eða frægð, klapparsstígur 27
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