Reykjavík Grapevine - 09.03.2007, Blaðsíða 19

REYKJAVÍK_GRAPEVINE_ISSUE 03_007_REVIEWS/MUSIC/LIVE_1
Through the years, I have been quite vo-
cal about my admiration for Incubus and,
despite my left-field tendencies and prefer-
ences, I have been able to enjoy the music
of these well-dressed Californians for many
years. Musically and lyrically the band has
shown an impressive growth in a better and
more mature direction and I invariably enjoy
their most recent albums more than older
releases.
As this show approached its date, fellow
humans who share my interest in Incubus
were shocked to hear that I had little interest
in buying a ticket and attending the show.
Why? Let’s rewind a little bit. Back in ‘96,
when I was a fresh faced exchange student
in Germany, I went to see Korn at the top of
their game in Berlin, supporting their most
recent release at the time, Life Is Peachy.
Needless to say, Korn rocked my world ‘cause
back then, they were young, horny and out
for the kill. Incubus were one of the opening
bands for that show, sent by their label, Epic,
to promote their upcoming release. Epic had
people hand out a two-song promo tape
featuring music of their first major break-
through album, S.C.I.E.N.C.E.
They played well, they had a musical edge
and a front man with an amazing voice but
they didn’t kill it. Fast forward to the pres-
ent. I have since then watched Incubus DVDs
as well as live performances on the internet,
which has done little to change my percep-
tion. It was with some resentment that I
went to this show, steadfast in my belief that
Incubus did not have much to offer in the live
environment, let alone playing a huge arena
rock show in front of few thousand Icelandic
teenagers. But I had an assignment, which is
what you are reading right now.
Walking to Iceland’s most legendary
sports arena, Laugardalshöllin, I got a sneak-
ing suspicion that this show would be a little
indifferent, but – being the optimist I am and
in the company of a friend who maintained
that Incubus’ professionalism would offer
me something more than the other types
of shows I frequent – I kind of started going
with the flow.
As we entered the building Mínus had
just started their acclaimed sweat rock thun-
der. Working my way through the crowd I
couldn’t help but think that 80% of the at-
tendance that night was people under 20
years old, with the majority probably under
18. They projected the swagger of young
minds under the influence, in a big house
party, all dressed up and far from soft spo-
ken after a couple of rounds of beers and
vodka mixes.
Mínus are no strangers to larger than life
rock shows. These ambassadors of Icelan-
dic hard rock are irrefutably the first choice
for major concert promoters when it comes
to events this size. These rockers opened
when Metallica filled a giant sports hall to
its 18,000 heads capacity, so working up a
restless crowd has never been a problem for
these lads.
Mínus played long awaited songs from
their yet to be released full length album,
which kept me on my toes since playing
mostly hits of the wildly successful Halldór
Laxness would have been a little too safe.
The new material sounded heavier and more
precise than the horny-party-rock music from
their last album, although the poor sound in
Laugardalshöll kept them from delivering it
properly. Still, the crowd was having it, but for
some reason, Mínus was not. Drummer Bjössi
was obviously on top of his game, bringing his
beats with uncanny precision. The term “into
it” is an understatement when it comes to this
wielder of sticks. Bass thug Þröstur dwarfed
his instrument and threatened to strike thun-
der on the youngsters in the front but the
rest of the band seemed uninterested. Even
Krummi, the smooth talking but persuasive
trickster of a front man seemed to hold back.
Incubus have never been more interesting
musically than they are these days, but live on
stage these clean cut fellows seem uninspired
and businesslike. Yes, they can play and they
are tighter than the anus of a young honey
bee, but with a front man that comes off as
being rather shy, while the rest of the band
has little or no presence – aside from the bass
player who pulled his weight but to no avail
– Incubus was unmemorable. In short, Incu-
bus added little to my at-home listening expe-
rience.
Brandon Boyd’s vocal performance that
night was something to write home about
though. It’s as if his throat has a built-in auto-
tune. My friend and I waited for him to choke
on a note but it was just like it had been lifted
from one of their studio recordings… I shit
you not. Incredible singer with perfect control
over his voice. That being said, this eye candy
of a singer is not quite the communicator be-
tween songs. Of the few words he actually
spoke, most of what he said was rather clum-
sy and did little to contradict my theory that
Mr. Boyd is indeed shy and a little reserved.
To Incubus’s credit they played a lot of ma-
terial from their bold yet solid latest record,
Light Grenades, and as if to underline their
passion for that record, they left out obvious
super smash hits like Stellar and Pardon Me
and instead included a jam session as well as
alternative versions of another old hit, Redi-
fine.
The crowd was receptive and warm
throughout their set but never in the palm of
Incubus’s hand.
My earlier suspicion had proved to be spot
on. The whole thing was indifferent, even
bland, and judging from the shockingly silent
punters (who normally raise their voices and
even scream to express their stokedness af-
ter seeing their beloved bands) streaming out
of the venue and into the parking lot, many
of them were probably surprised to feel the
same way I did.
www.myspace.com/incubus
www.myspace.com/minus
Uninspired
Text by Birkir Fjalar Viðarsson Photo by Skari
Who: Incubus and Mínus
Where: Laugardalshöllin
When: March 3, 2007
0_REYKJAVÍK_GRAPEVINE_ISSUE 03_007_REVIEWS/MUSIC/LIVE
There was an unusually subdued and quiet
atmosphere at NASA for Lisa Ekdahl’s con-
cert. This was her third show in Iceland in two
years and, much like on previous occasions,
she had sold out the venue. This particular
venue, however, proved to be ill-fitting for
the performance. NASA, usually associated
with the rowdier type of concerts, simply
does not have the allure to do justice to a
low-key, sit-down event. In certain parts of
the auditorium you could hear the quiet hum
of the A/C over Ekdahl’s delicate delivery;
a sound that added nothing positive to the
whole production.
The bartenders were rude and hardly
up to the task of tending to an audience
that was at least 20 years older than their
usual clientele, and with a troublesome pen-
chant for a glass of wine instead of the rock
crowd’s all-round demand for beer. While
these transgressions would hardly be no-
ticeable at a rock show, they were blatantly
evident under these circumstances. But there
was more to this show than the unfortunate
venue selection which, in all fairness, can
probably be blamed on the lack of a better
alternative in Reykjavík.
Lisa Ekdahl is a charismatic performer.
Her unusual, soft, but somehow gnarly voice
and her ability to write quirky little folk-pop
tunes about lost love and broken hearts, had
the audience captivated for the duration of
the show. She has a very intimate stage per-
sona, and obviously takes great joy in giving
back to the audience. Between songs, she
carried on conversations with the audience
in Swedish with a thick Stockholm accent,
which fortunately is easily intelligible for Ice-
landers; and she did her best to make every-
one feel welcome at her show, although at
times she took her act of innocence a bit too
far, coming off as naïve, rather than sincere.
Joined on stage by a talented and multi-di-
mensional sidekick, whom she introduced as
Blomdahl (has there ever been a more Swed-
ish name?), the pair managed to play about
eight different instruments between them.
This compact line-up created a feeling of at-
tachment that is not easily replicated with a
bigger band.
Before taking a short intermission about
eight songs into the show, Ekdahl mostly
played material from her two latest albums,
Olyckssyster and Pärlor av Glas, with the
exception of Du Sålde Våran Hjärta. After
returning to the stage, she delivered some
of her more popular material from her self-
titled debut album, with Benen I Kors and
Öppna Upp Ditt Fönster receiving enthusias-
tic applause from the audience.
The loudest ovation was kept for her big-
gest hit, Vem Vet, which Ekdahl admitted
was the only one of her songs she has ever
heard people whistle in the streets. Blom-
dahl was quick to seize the opportunity and
changed the arrangement of the song to in-
clude his own whistling solo, a performance
that received a hearty laugh from both audi-
ence and Ekdahl alike.
It is easy to like Lisa Ekdahl, as a perform-
er and as a person, and I really hope she finds
the time to play in Iceland again soon, but
hopefully not at NASA.
www.myspace.com/ekdahllisa
Good Show, Unfortunate Venue
Text by Sveinn Birkir Björnsson Photo by Skari
Who: Lisa Ekdahl
Where: NASA
When: March 1, 2007
Emilie Simone is perhaps most famous for
being the descendant of famous French phi-
losopher Saint Simon. No, that’s a lie. Emi-
lie Simone is most famous for the beautiful
soundtrack to “The March of the Penguins.”
But I’d like to think there is a chance that
Emilie and Saint Simon are somehow con-
nected. Saint Simon, one of Europe’s great-
est thinkers, proposed a utopian meritocra-
cy where all men would be judged by their
merit and not their family history or wealth.
On this night meritocracy came to mind for
I was wondering if Emilie was here on ac-
count of her musical talents or simply her
sexy French look.
The concert started and everybody
gazed at a blue screen (not the kind that
makes dogs fly in bad American movies)
which created a very French atmosphere.
A strange techno guy with a hat appeared
on stage followed by a percussionist. This
was Emilie’s band. The percussionist had
wild moves, like Justin Timberlake on PCP.
This was an artistic event ‘cause the techno
guy had a hollow square he played and a lot
of futuristic gadgets seldom seen in music.
They even dragged Kira Kira on stage, who
had a bucket of sea shells she played with all
night. The final member was a cello player
who played solos. Then Simon appeared and
said “Gott kvöld” with a sexy French accent.
Her music can be compared to the music of
great bands such as “Nouvelle Vague” and
“Portishead”.
There was nothing I didn’t like about Si-
mon, her melodies were catchy and different
from each other. Her lyrics (the ones I un-
derstood) were cute and honest like “Roses
Never Fall in Love” and “I Want be Your
Dog.” At that point, I realised how much I
needed a dog. The band was also great and
the percussionist was into it like a diabetic at
a marshmallow convention. When he used
water and a concert piano to form beats I
realised he was not somebody’s weirdo
brother but a great musician. He was so cool
beating everything on stage for rhythm.
This was becoming what a concert should
be: “an experience”. Some people thought
it was pretentious. Well, too bad for them.
The highpoint of the night was Simone’s
cover version of Nirvana’s “Come as You
Are.” At that moment life felt perfect and
time stood still. I think I even saw Saint Si-
mon bobbing his head to the merit of Emilie
Simone’s music. If Iceland were a meritoc-
racy, Emilie Simone would have played for
five thousand people in Laugardalshöllin
and Incubus would have played in the gut-
ter and then be assassinated while singing
“Whatever Tomorrow Brings, I’ll be There,
With Open Arms and Open Eyes, Yeah.”
www.emiliesimon.artistes.universalmu-
sic.fr
Saint Simon
Text by Helgi Valur Photo by Skari
Who: Emile Simone
Where: Háskólabíó
When: March 4, 2007