Reykjavík Grapevine - 20.10.2007, Síða 15

Playing the opening slot of a show is like getting
naked with someone for the first time: no one really
wants to go first, but it’s the only way to get shit
going. Weapons had the dubious honour of kick-
ing things off at the nearly empty Gaukurinn. The
trio’s pedestrian hard rock offered spindly riffs and
catchy melodies, but their barrage of power chords
would benefit from more variety. Sudden Weather
Change, however, led by a youthful ball of energy
called Logi Höskuldsson, was the evening’s big-
gest surprise and completely stole the show. Their
Pavement-influenced indie rock was discordant,
pretty, sloppy, tight, and spirited all at once, and
the crowd enthusiastically sang along with almost
every tune they churned out.
Jan Mayen created a murderous wall of sound
that would make Phil Spector proud, simultaneous-
ly invoking the spirits of The Fall, The Stooges, and
Grandaddy. Unexpected tempo changes, intense
instrumental passages, and the addition of some
sort of antiquated analogue synthesiser to their last
song surely left a few blisters on their fingers. Up
next, local hardcore stalwarts Reykjavík! had the
most unusual intro of the night, and perhaps the en-
tire festival, when a diminutive female in a red dress
took the stage and proceeded to howl out death-
metal screeches about “fucking and sucking”. The
tone was now appropriately set for their obscenely
loud and chaotically muddled punk, which turned
into an onstage party when the testosterone-fuelled
members of Ultra Mega Technobandið Stefán bum-
rushed the stage to sing along, accidentally unplug-
ging guitars in the process.
Deerhoof, the main attraction of the night,
delivered a technical, quirky and entertaining set
to the rapt audience. The trio allotted equal time
to zestful bursts of fury and cutesy stuffed animal
sound effects; they practically don’t even play rock
any more, instead creating a proficient blend of
prog and free jazz. Jakobínarína brought an en-
tirely different vibe to the night with their androgy-
nous bowl haircuts and new-wave dance-rock.
Swift, smart, slick pop nuggets were delivered with
a lilting wink and a knowing sway that would have
made their champion, Mr. Fricke, proud. When I
Adapt hit the stage, it appeared that Gaukurinn
was emptying out, but their speed metal dirges
proved to be a draw for the hardcore diehards.
Frontman Birkir’s incredible vocal histrionics left a
happy ringing in everyone’s ears (and probably a
scratch in his throat) – a fitting end to a night that
showcased the incredible diversity of modern rock.
Jonah Flicker
Gaukurinn
Feature Review
Reykjavík! by Rúnar