Reykjavík Grapevine - 01.12.2006, Blaðsíða 18

REYKJAVÍK_GRAPEVINE_ISSUE18_006_REVIEW/MUSIC/LIVE_3_REYKJAVÍK_GRAPEVINE_ISSUE18_006_REVIEW/MUSIC/LIVE
Who: The Sugarcubes
Where: Laugardalshöll
When: November 17, 2006
Some artists are only discovered posthu-
mously. So it seems to have been with the
Sugarcubes who returned to perform a con-
cert last Friday in celebration of the 20th an-
niversary of their first single, Birthday, despite
the band announcing its death in 1992.
At a press conference two days before
the concert, with nearly 5,000 tickets sold in
advance, the Sugarcubes’ bass player, Bragi
Ólafsson told me: “This is very new to us. We
are not exactly used to be playing in front
of large crowds here in Iceland. We are used
to playing small clubs.” The sentiment was
echoed by Sugarcubes front man, Einar Örn
Benediktsson, when I asked him if he was
surprised that the show had not already sold
out. “Not so much, we were never really a
success in Iceland.”
Despite a meagre following in Iceland
during their heyday, the combination of their
well-documented and somewhat aberrant
quirkiness, their timeless songwriting, and
the fact that they are Björk’s former band has
secured the Sugarcubes an almost mythical
status in Iceland’s musical history. The Sugar-
cubes decided to use this opportunity cash
in on this fact in order to bankroll further op-
eration of their own record label, Bad Taste,
founded the same day as the band and still
a productive and daring label, despite the
band’s demise. Although I am not a big fan
of bands reuniting in order to cash in on for-
mer fame, the Sugarcubes lapse was easily
forgiven in light of their altruistic reasoning.
While much of the older audience that
night was there for the rare second chance to
fulfil something that perhaps they ought to
have done circa 1989, many of the younger
audience was barely old enough to remem-
ber the times when the Sugarcubes were still
a band. Overall, attendees were not so much
nostalgic as they were curious to see the re-
turn of the now legendary and much-hyped
Sugarcubes.
Despite the anticipation filling the stadi-
um, the show got off to a rather slow start as
the band opened with the song Traitor, the
first song from their first album. In the early
moments of the show I could not escape the
feeling of the band being out of place and
time, playing in front of 5,000-plus discon-
nected patrons, 15 years after their prime.
This feeling was not lost on the band either
as they strained to find their comfort level
and create a connection with the audience
in the large stadium. It was not altogether
pleasant to witness and for a moment I
feared that the Sugarcubes reunion would
prove to be as disastrous as Michael Jordan’s
second comeback.
Nevertheless, the night was kicked into
gear with the rock solid delivery of Regina
and Cold Sweat, both early highlights. From
that point on, crowd and band were in uni-
son, equally at home with one another as
the band blazed through their hit singles one
by one. Other notable highlights were Deus,
Motorcrash, and the obvious Birthday. It was
pleasant to hear how well their songs have
withstood the test of time. The gist of songs
sounds just as fresh today as they did when
they first came out.
Despite the long lay-off, there was little
rust to be found in their performance. Band
members resumed their duties without ef-
fort and quickly fell into their roles. More or
less motionless in the background stood gui-
tarist Þór Eldon and bassist Bragi Ólafsson,
with Margrét Örnólfsdóttir standing behind
a keyboard to the side. Their calm demean-
our stood in stark contrast to the bantering
and spastic twitches of singer Einar Örn, who
at times conjured images of the Mad Hatter
as he joked around with the band’s other vo-
calist, Björk, and danced around with a red
trumpet.
As much as everyone tried to ignore it,
the star of the show was still Björk Guð-
mundsdóttir. Her command over her in-
strument is quite amazing, and it is hard
to imagine the Sugarcubes having reached
their level of success without her unique vo-
cal lines. Although her mates onstage were
all accomplished, seasoned musical veterans
– (with the exception of bass player/writer
Bragi Ólafsson, who had earlier told me that
even if he had not played bass in years, his
lines were simple and really, it was just like
driving a car, you don’t forget) – she is the
only international star, able to attract audi-
ences from afar. Which she did.
On location that night were over 1,000
foreigners who flew in exclusively to watch
the night’s show. You wonder how many
would have shown up if Björk had not been
present. She fell seamlessly in line with the
band, and at times she looked so at home
on that stage, you could almost forget that
they had disbanded and she had moved on
to bigger and better things.
More than anything, it was drummer
Sigtryggur Baldursson who caught my atten-
tion. Even if this talented drummer has been
involved with various projects recently, wit-
nessing him in his element that night, truly
made it clear how much fun it is to watch
him play. His constant smile and jovial spirit
also underscored another detail that was lost
on no one that night; just how much fun
these people were having, sharing a stage
again for the first time since 1992.
After they had performed 18 songs, the
Sugarcubes finally retreated under the fever-
ish salute of the crowd. After a few minutes
of the stomping, clapping and yelling, they
returned to perform an encore, including
their most successful single, Hit, off the 1992
Stick Around For Joy. After the band left the
stage for the second time, the crowd was still
hungry for more and brought them out for
yet another encore.
For the final act, the ‘Cubes brought out
a special guest in none other than Johnny
Triumph, the only man alive who could justi-
fiably demote Björk to a back-up singer. Join-
ing him onstage were two young teens, Ein-
ar Örn’s and Þór’s and Margrét’s sons, who
joined the family in performing Luftguitar, a
collaboration project from Johnny Triumph’s
own album. Even if Triumph’s return was a
welcome sight for many Icelanders, I have a
feeling the joke may have been lost on the
majority of the foreign guests, as his album
was never released outside Iceland.
As Triumph brought the night to an end
by smashing his invisible Luftguitar against
the amplifiers and eventually tossing it into
the audience, the night was brought to a
memorable pinnacle and ultimately, a close.
Sugarcubes Reconnect and Eventually Triumph
Text by Sveinn Birkir Björnsson Photo by Skari
Who: Sufjan Stevens
Where: Fríkirkjan Church
When: November 18, 2006
Detroit native Sufjan Stevens has built quite
a fan base in Iceland, so it was not surprising
that his two shows last month sold out in
a matter of minutes and more dates would
surely have been appreciated. Those lucky
devotees who got a ticket in time flocked
with anticipation to Fríkirkjan Church to see
his European tour climaxing in Reykjavík in a
god-like manner.
Fríkirkjan Church, usually holding ap-
proximately 500 people, was overfilled when
opening act St. Vincent, started her set. With
every seat on the church benches taken,
some late arrivals had to settle for a place on
the floor. That didn’t diminish the cosy feel
inside the church that night, where candles
lit up the stage and Jesus hovered above it.
Every bit of decoration was in total harmony
with Stevens’ music, underlining how per-
fect a small-scale venue was for this kind of a
show.
St. Vincent, a moniker of the multi-talented
singer and songwriter Annie Clark, blew
everyone away with her first tune. She has
been supporting Stevens during his Euro-
pean tour, deservedly earning attention for
her solo project. Her dynamic voice, heartfelt
performance, complex melodies and unusual
instrumentation, like stomping her foot to
the ground to create an intense drum sound
while playing the guitar, got every single soul
in the audience gazing at the stage, almost
forgetting that there was more to come.
(Check out her MySpace page for songs
Marry Me and Paris is Burning, in particular.)
After her set, I wasn’t only excited about the
following act but equally thrilled by the fact
I had now discovered another genius. That
was just a bonus.
The instrument-packed stage indicated
that Stevens’s supporting band included
quite a few members. The inflated Santa
Clauses lying on top of the piano gave no
indication at all. Also mysteriously lying on
the piano were severeal inflated Supermen,
an obvious reference to the fracas over the
original cover of Illinois album, which sports
Superman. Only a few albums exist with the
original cover. Stupid copyright laws.
Sufjan Stevens is not only a unique musi-
cian, a brilliant writer and composer but also
a creative performer. It was soon evident
that the props on the piano had a purpose
when Stevens and the Band of Butterflies en-
tered one after another, wearing feathered
masks and butterfly wings. Stevens himself
had eagle wings tied to his back and told the
crowd he was the chief eagle in the majesty
snowbird tour where the theme was flying
objects. When the Supermen and Santa
Clauses started bouncing like colourful mari-
onettes inside Fríkirkjan after Stevens threw
them in the crowd I understood what he
meant.
After introducing his band as the Magi-
cal Butterfly Brigade and he himself the
Majesty Songbird, the whole crew, consist-
ing of a brass band, drummer and a string
set, started off with the theme song Majesty
Snowbird.
Stevens’s instrumental talents were no
secret, but seeing him switch between the
piano, guitar, banjo and occasional cow bell,
was amazing, as was the supporting brass
section and aforementioned St. Vincent,
who had re-entered the stage, now wearing
butterfly wings, playing the guitar, some-
times the piano and singing back-up vocals
on a couple of the songs.
Although the songs were all familiar to
the audience and the set mostly consisted
of tracks from the albums Seven Swans and
Illinois (the second piece in the 50 States
puzzle), the compositions were so much
more imposing and sensational than on the
albums, as Seven Swans, Sister and two of
my favourites, To Be Alone With You and The
Man of Metropolis Steals Our Hearts, bore
witness to. In keeping with the evening and
the season, Stevens also played a Christmas
song, That Was the Worst Christmas Ever!
from his Songs for Christmas album.
It would be impossible to talk about the
show without mentioning Stevens’ lyrics and
stories. His narrative skills were also displayed
as he delivered historical facts and stories
about notable people, mixed with religious
views and weird jokes in songs with ridicu-
lously long titles that stressed his strong feel-
ings towards fellow countrymen and com-
plex emotions and childhood memories.
His performance of A Good Man Is Hard
To Find, based on a short story about a serial
killer written by American novelist Flannery
O’Connor, who he paid tribute to before
playing the song, was received with boom-
ing applause. Another breathtaking per-
formance was his rendition of John Wayne
Gacy, Jr (also about a serial killer). As sad as
this story of the serial killer from Chicago
dressed in a clown suit is, when he delivered
lines like: “His father was a drinker/and his
mother cried in bed” with his delicate voice
Stevens almost made you feel sympathy for
the man.
After an almost two-hour show and
several spine-chilling moments, Stevens and
his winged friends said goodnight, only to
return to the stage after a lengthy applause
and outcries from the crowd. “I can’t believe
he’s not gonna play Chicago,” the guy sitting
next to me had said to his friend when Ste-
vens didn’t seem to be coming back again.
But the audience didn’t crack, and kept on
clapping and stomping until now humble
and almost watery-eyed Stevens returned,
alone, taking his good time thanking the
guests for the warm welcome, before kick-
ing off with Chicago. For the last two songs,
the whole band came back for support with
the concert culminating in Concerning The
UFO Sighting Near Highland, Illinois.
Everything clicked perfectly. Stevens and
his Butterfly band were more energetic, pas-
sionate, magical even, than I had dared to
hope for, leaving the audience in a daze. Tak-
ing their time thanking the band for its stag-
gering performance that night, the crowd
slowly scattered away, some carrying an in-
flated Santa under their arm, a memorable
souvenir of a concert no one in the church
would forget about in the near future.
An Appreciated Invasion of Flying Stars
and Inflated Santas
Text by Steinunn Jakobsdóttir Photo by Skari
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