Reykjavík Grapevine - 09.10.2009, Blaðsíða 24

Réttir Music Reviews
Thursday 24.09.09
Batteríið
Thursday 24.09.09
Grand Rokk
In a live setting, many electronica artists have problems
connecting with the crowd.
7oi does not have that problem. Throughout his set, he
shows great variety with songs drifting between tender
sweet lullabies into heavier drum loops with plenty of reverb
and delay. The added element of vocals and some guitar
strumming provides a much-needed human angle, which is
often lacking in electronica acts. As is often the case with
the first billed outfits, 7oi’s enjoyable experimental set is
unfortunately experienced by too few.
Magnoose (now: Quadropolis) is another electronica
artist. Reminiscent of Warp Records artist Clark, Magnoose
produces dark ambient sound textures with pounding
bass beats. The music he creates seems like it could be a
soundtrack to a Fritz Lang movie, so it seems appropriate
he has a film showing in the background. Unfortunately, the
music doesn’t seem to relate to the film, making it a missed
opportunity. Maybe Magnoose is trying to draw attention
away from him fiddling with knobs, giving his performance
a more visual element, which in any case is very interesting
musically.
Having made a name for themselves in their home country,
Danish band The State, The Market and The DJ have
come to Iceland to give their take on alternative music. It’s
a pretty atmospheric and intense affair, often bringing to
mind The Devics, but with a male vocalist. The songs have
plenty of space in them, and they seem like they would make
the perfect soundtrack for driving across America. However
enjoyable, like that cross country drive, tonight’s set goes on
a little too long for comfort.
That night, the Reykjavík International Film Festival world-
premiered Jesse Hartman’s new flick, House Of Satisfaction.
Thus, Hartman had booked an appearance at Batteríið to play
some songs from his movie. New Yorker Hartman has played
in many bands, starting when he a teenager and toured Japan
with Richard Hell, remaining active in the NY scene ever
since. His first song, a quintessential Hartman track, gave the
crowd a perfect introduction to his music, but unfortunately
his one-man rock show with its good story telling lyrics was
lost on the crowd. He hits back by dedicating 1999 single
I’m So Happy You Failed to all the talkers in the crowd, but
soldiers on through an enjoyable set.
Unlike Hartman, local songstress Ólöf Arnalds has little
trouble with tonight’s crowd. With her intimacy and charm
she has them in the palm of her hand. She gets them singing
along to the la la chorus of Englar og Dárar. During new
song Crazy Car, she hums the piano line and forgets the final
verse. After repeating a guitar line and a blaa blaa, she’s off
again, much to our enjoyment. Instead of getting annoying,
these antics add to her charm. After a new glass of wine and
what seems like an eternity tuning her unusual armadillo
instrument the charango, she plays Klara, before reverting
back to her guitar for two covers: Hank Williams’ Please
Don’t Let Me Love You and Caetano Veloso’s Maria Bethania.
On request, she then plays album favourite Við og við. Not
expecting to play that song tonight, she struggled with the
lyrics throughout the song, but it is of little worry to the crowd
who joyfully sing along to chorus. It brings this intimate and
wonderful gig to a fitting and perfect end. - Adam Wood
The nice people in charge of this festival are already in my
good book, if only because—unlike another festival that’s
coming up soon—they did not forget the metalheads. It’s
about time people realise that there is more to the Icelandic
music scene than wailing little fairies and good natured
gnomes. The Dark Side has its representatives as well. On
that stormy Thursday night we were graced with the presence
of some of the bands that are going to play at the Eistnaflug
Rock Festival next year. It is the only festival in Iceland that
focuses solely on metal, punk and other undesirables.
The first band that took to the stage was Atrum, and
I had to stifle a laugh. The band had obviously decided to
wear the international war paint of Black Metal, the infamous
Corpse-paint. But they had failed to bring enough paint, and
only managed to paint around their eyes. They looked more
like cartoon bandits than any Black Metal outfit. The laugh
froze on my lips, though, when they started playing. It was a
powerhouse performance. Great songs with great guitar riffs
and the vocals came straight from the bowels of the Earth...or
lower. Think Emperor, think Keep of Kalessin. I cannot wait to
see them again, but I hope they’ll think carefully about putting
on that stupid make-up.
Next was a band that has gained cult status among local
hard rockers. XIII seemed aware of their own importance,
and they tried too hard to maintain their legend image. It
fizzled. People that had flocked to the stage when Atrum
were playing, now returned quietly to their seats. Their music
is old school metal, reminiscent of the 80s and 90s: little bit
of Ratt, a little bit of Alice in Chains. With the exception of
frontman Hallur, the other members of the band looked more
like session musicians than rockers. It wasn’t until they played
13, a cool song from their first album, that you could witness
nostalgic eruptions among the crowd.
Gone Postal were next and wasted no time in assaulting
our eardrums with their powerful, old-school deathmetal. I
couldn’t help but wonder if the 4 screaming children on stage
were old enough to be here—the singer looks like a satanic
version of Pocahontas. Young they may be, but it was obvious
they had done their homework. This was Death Metal 101.
Great band! The only criticism I can come up with is this:
guys, please lower your guitars to at least hip level. You don’t
wanna look like fucking Mezzoforte, do you!?
I was anxious to hear new Morðingjarnir songs. Their
latest album, Àfram Îsland, is arguably one of the best punk
albums ever to come out of Iceland. Sadly, however, the band
members looked tired and there were sound problems, so the
performance was not as good as expected. Better luck next
time.
In Memoriam were the closing act and did their job in a
professional manner. Sporting a singer that has ASS (Arena
Stage Syndrome), they kept the crowd happy with their trashy
metal and even got so bold as to cover Slayer—and get away
with it, too!
Again, thanks to the promoters of Réttir and Eistnaflug for
a great evening at Grand Rokk! - Flosi Þorgeirsson
Thursday 24.9.09
Jacobsen
Thursday 24.09.09
Sódóma
Friday 25.09.09
Batteríið
It’s platinum blond club time, Reykjavík-style, at Jacobsen on
Thursday night, with razor thin high-heeled bombshells, flat
brims and over-sized hoodies as far as the eye can see.
Young MC Gauti, sporting a flat-brimmed cap with the
words “New Money” splashed across the front, delivers
club-friendly hits, climbing the speakers and showering the
audience with sing-along choruses and breaking down for at
least one pseudo-R&B track.
As soon as MC Gauti descends, the much-praised
Forgotten Lores climb up—as if by magic, the dance floor is
completely packed. There’s something almost boy band-ish
about how each member boasts a particular ‘style.’ Even the
‘Posh Spice’ member had the crowd flipping their lid.
From dust we come and to dust we return—the club
descends into the DJ stylings of some ambiguous DJs…
- Michael Zelenko
The room is almost empty when Me, the Slumbering
Napoleon start, but what do you expect at 8:30 in Reykjavík?
Their slow start makes their unfortunately chosen band name
seem rather appropriate. It’s a bit of a snooze, but suddenly
a fog machine kicks in and a dude starts shouting and it gets
better. The second half of their set is loud, grungey and kind
of math-rock, but still fails to get a crowd reaction.
Okay, maybe it’s not the band, because the crowd also
stands immobile for Sudden Weather Change’s highly
energetic and air-tight set. The three guitarists and bassist
stand in a row, flailing their instruments about in a kind of
sludge rock synchronized dance. They are so young and so
don’t give a shit. One of them loses his shirt. Awesome!
Finally the room is packing up, and I am drunk.
Morðingjarnir are chugging away some real fun old school
punk. DC meets RVK! Still, no one is moving. What the hell?
It’s raw and fast and catchy and everyone around me is in
serious need of some alcohol, but it’s too packed to get to the
bar.
It’s too packed because Mugison is climbing onstage and
everyone is going mental. It’s been far too long since this guy
has graced a Reykjavík stage with his pornographic blues
punk, and it’s truly a sin. There are so many people in the
room that it is impossible to move, but everyone is joining the
sing-alongs and having a blast.
Mugison doesn’t wanna get of stage, so he kicks off
an impromptu jam session with Reykjavík! as they gear
up and plays with them on the first song. Fuck yeah! They
immediately start tearing shit up, their singer jumping into the
crowd and nearly strangulating audience members with his
microphone cord. The editor of this paper is a guitar maniac,
FYI. Finally people are headbanging.
Retrön get up to wrap up the night and they are dressed
pretty funny. There’s a lot of metallic spandex over neon
spandex and it’s kind of amazing. The remaining audience
are fully into the game-console power metal. Seriously, I saw
a Guitar Hero guitar up there. And a keytar! Yes! The band
unleash an epic finale of making heart-hands synchronized
with their playing. It’s hard to describe, but it was absolutely
hilarious. - Rebecca Louder
bobbing from the audience. No mean feat when performing
to a mostly sober crowd in the early stages of a festival,
especially in Iceland—where alcohol is an almost mandatory
lubricant and all flailing of limbs is kept to a minimum until
an appropriate level of drunkenness is achieved. Needless
to say, the music was good. No messing around with this
band. Chunky, rocky and genuine, the audience reaction was
not undeserved. They played a solid set, without theatrics or
pretension, and their kinda tough sound was offset well with
the delicate backing vocals of Hellvar’s Heiða. Jolly good.
The growing crowd was suitably warmed up for the
appearance of Icelandic music legend Megas, accompanied
by backing band Senuþjófarnir, who attracted a wide variety
of folks. The crowd thickened and the wide age range of
the audience is a testament to his talent and appeal, though
those unfamiliar with Icelandic music history, tourists, might
be perplexed by the sight of so many young people rocking
out to the slightly obscure musician. Megas’ on-stage
demeanour could be compared to a more cooperative Bob
Dylan, with his clever lyrics and unique style of singing
definitely bringing Dylan to mind, while his clear enjoyment of
being on stage putting him a different league entirely.
The set ended with cries for ‘meira’ and paved the way
for Hjálmar, fresh from the release of their latest album, IV.
The jostling motion now successfully pulled itself together
into a bit of all out dancing, spurred on by Hjálmar’s Icelandic
reggae. They performed an awesome set—bright and vibrant—
leading the audience in a beautiful rendition of ‘Leiðin
okkar allra’, where any sense of war, strife and kreppa in the
world left the building for the moment, and there was unity.
Good times. By the end the crowd had begun to thin out, so
the gig was perhaps a little on the long side. Either way the
atmosphere was nice and relaxed throughout the gig.
- Bergrún Anna Hallsteinsdóttir
Calf Method took to the stage late, immediately hollering for
everybody in Batterí to come up and show them some love
on the dance floor. Luckily, of the ten people in the bar, nine
were members of their entourage, so their demands were
90% met. The three piece laughed their way through their
white-boy gangsta rap, two shouting out “I wanna get low
with you bitches” while the third wailed on his tenor sax so
smoothly he belonged in another band.
As if hordes of people were waiting in the wings for Calf
Method to wrap it up, Batterí was comfortably full by the time
Johnny Stronghands graced the stage, sitting meekly in a
chair, guitar on his lap, smiling shyly when the anticipatory
crowd shouted out support for the young troubadour. As loud
as the bellowing “strong hands!” and “show’em what you got,
buddy!” was the crowd was eerily silent so as not to miss one
note of Johnny’s haunting and bluesy voice that’s somewhat
akin to Nick Drake in its complexity. Contributing to the truly
impressive vocals was some astounding guitar playing that
had the young man employing the length of his instruments
neck with speed and accuracy. It was both a treat to hear and
witness such musical talent. Seriously goosebump-inducing
music.
Let me entertain you
After the complete silence of the crowd during Johnny
Stronghands’ set the chatter was almost distracting as
Svavar Knútur strummed through his first song with a
ukulele and a massive child-like smile. I suppose that’s the
difference between a musician and an entertainer. Svavar
Knútur is undeniably talented with his voice some times
resonating a Damien Rice quality and his animated persona
on the stage leads one of my companions to liken him to Jack
Black, but the crowd in Batterí paid him as much attention as
generic bar entertainment, not a well-known performer on a
festival line-up. Once his backing band got in on the action
and they broke into an anecdotal ditty that had the jovial
front man reciting the works of the Prodigy and Bon Jovi, with
some Eye of the Tiger tossed in for balance, things picked up
and the smiling crowd paid the act the attention it deserved.
Hitting a neutral note
Svavar Knútur ended his set on a high-note with his cover-
laden finale, leaving quite the void for Snorri Helgason to fill,
especially now that Batterí was rather full and people wanted
to be entertained. Unfortunately Snorri’s set, while technically
solid and ripe with entertaining tambourine performances
from former Grapeviners, left much to be desired. This guy
has talent, as the former lead singer and songwriter for the
über upbeat Sprengjuhöllin, and his band was exceptionally
good at what they were doing. It was just… unremarkable.
Neutral. Love and hate are both passionate emotions and,
while being loved is preferable to being hated, I would take
hate over neutrality any day.
And then the waiting began
As if the night wasn’t far enough behind schedule
already, the downtime between Snorri Helgason and the
electronic dance ensemble Sometime dragged on for eons.
But once this aesthetically pleasing fivesome got their shit
together and began their set the dance floor was packed
with writhing bodies totally digging the 80s inspired synths,
and vapid ultra-feminine crooning. Sometime’s high-energy
set, accentuated by Christmas lights, feathered head
accoutrements and electric eye make-up, was high voltage
and beaucoup de fun.
Let’s keep this electro-energy pumping! Oh. Bodebrixen
didn’t bother to wire any of their twelve electronic devices
beforehand? I see. It’s a real shame that this Danish act didn’t
prep their equipment at all before their set, maybe more of
the dancers so keen on Sometime would have continued the
party stage-front for them. This upbeat group played some
catchy synth-heavy tunes and they looked kinda cute in their
Thursday 24.09.09
Nasa
At NASA, the night began with a sparsely scattered crowd,
entertained by the musical styling of Dr. Gunni who rather
admirably enticed some enthusiastic head nodding and knee
One of the most interesting interna-
tional acts to play Airwaves this year is
without a doubt New York [via Florida]
transplants The Drums. The band was
founded earlier this year (!) by long-time
friends Jonathan Pierce (vocals) and
Jacob Graham (guitar)—the two seem
to have a certain knack, as they’ve al-
ready received heaps of oozing praise.
They released their first EP this sum-
mer, and called it... Summertime. It’s
a pretty brilliant EP, full of straightfor-
ward, summery pop tunes that bring to
mind 1950s surf music and the Factory
Records music of the eighties. We called
up Jonathan at his Brooklyn apartment.
“We are very excited to play the Ice-
land Airwaves festival,” Jonathan tells
me. “I have known about the festival
for a few years, and I’ve always wanted
to come to Iceland—you could say it’s a
dream come true. We will stay in Reykja-
vík for three days and will try to hang out
and see as much as we can.”
How long have you been playing to-
gether?
We have played as a four-piece since
this May. Me and my best friend Jacob
started the band as a studio project.
I moved to Florida from New York to
live with him, so we could make music
together. We called it The Drums and
posted a few things online—people
started to take notice, so we decided to
move to New York and make it a four-
piece band to play live shows. We found
our drummer Connor through a friend,
and it worked out really well. Adam [gui-
tar] we had known for a long time, he
used to be in a band with me few years
ago called Elkland, kind of a synth pop
band. We put out one album on Colum-
bia records and then we split.”
The Drums seems like kind of a
strange a band name...
The name of the band kinda came to
us. Last couple of years, Jacob and I have
had this blog that we only share between
the two of us. We made up this imagi-
nary band on the blog, found picture
for all the imaginary band members,
named everyone and gave them all their
own lives. And then we decided to call
the band The Drums. When we decided
to form a real band, we just copied this
imaginary band.
You’ve been known to play surf mu-
sic. Is that something you set out to do
from the beginning?
We never made any decision to play
surf music, it just happened. I moved
from New York in the middle of a winter
and being in Florida during that time
feels like being on an endless vacation.
It never snows like in New York, and I
got inspired from being on vacation. We
wrote handful of song that were very
summery and decided to put them all
out in as an EP and call it Summertime!
Our other songs are not as surfy and
summery.
How is the Florida music scene?
We don’t really know, because we did
not go out at all in Florida. We kept to
ourselves, we didn’t have cars and we
weren’t living in the middle of town—
we lived near the beach. We both had
these stupid jobs, and when we came
home we just made music ‘til we passed
out. Then we woke up and did the same
thing again, day after day. In about six
months, we wrote around twenty songs.
It seemed to me that the scene is a bit
lacking.
Really all you had where we lived was
Disneyworld, and everything there was
really sort of Nazi-ish, in the way that
anything creative gets stomped out im-
mediately, because they want a city like
Disney world—kind of a perfect world
with nothing interesting going on.
I don’t know if I would ever want to
go back there, not even to play a show.
There is something really dark about
Disney. Jacob used to work there and
he told me a lot of crazy stories about it.
If someone dies at the park, they don’t
pronounce him dead ‘til they get him out
of there, so they can say that no one has
ever died at Disney World.
Alone, there is only one way to con-
struct an afternoon. At three o’clock,
it’s about a perfect, iconic lobster soup,
whale kebab, and light beer at Sægre-
finn. Walk across the street to Café du
Haïti and order a poisonously strong
delicious double espresso, in your best
Island French. Then, you have an hour
to kill, so walk around the harbour.
Return, ruddy and refreshed to Ho-
tel 101. Breeze into the dining room,
and order the foal sandwich with a side
of mustard to dip the fries in. If you
wait to order the mustard, you’ll have to
watch them put the order in, and haul a
tiny little ramekin of Dijon up through
the dumbwaiter; it’s a little depressing.
The foal sandwich, however, is a high-
water mark for western civilization.
The second itinerary is more expen-
sive, and best done with people to laugh
about it with you. Book yourself a table
at Sjávarkallarin (don’t even try to walk
in and wait at the bar. It’s no seats at
the bar, and they will give you a very in-
tense stare if you try to order a drink).
Just perform the tasting menu with her
attendant wines: it’s a procession of the
delicious (langoustine, truffle, and srira-
cha bell jar), the absurd-in-any-economy
(zebra carpaccio), and the linguistically
extreme (hubba-bubba sorbet).
Afterwards, go get a hot dog. There
is nothing more exhausting than eating
fusion food, no matter how wonderful.
You’ll have earned it.
Interview | by Ólafur Halldór Ólafsson
Endless
Summers
– Now In
Iceland!
The Drums
06
Friday 20:50
Reykjavík Art Museum
NASA Sódóma
This music venue/nightclub is a steady
Airwaves favourite. There’s a bunch
of sane madness going on with just
the right amount of rowdiness. On the
downside, it’s not the best place to
get wasted for cheap, as drinks are on
expensive side. The ladies room offers
a fair amount of elbow shoving and
catfights, which isn’t necessarily a bad
thing if you’re up for some drama. LP
Sódóma translates to Sodom, but
don’t be misled; there’s no more – or
less – sodomy here than in most other
bars in town. Climb the dark stairwell
and enter a fairly large floor bordered
by a few tables. Beers are moderately
priced, and if you can shove your way
outside there’s a covered balcony
where the nicotine-minded can get
their fix. The piece de resistance has to
be the men’s bathroom, where patrons
are invited to piss on the portraits of
the banksters. MZ
Austurvöllur Tryggvagata 22
Iceland AIrwaves 2009 Venues
The Young Composer’s Guide To Reykjavík Dining
-by Nico Muhly
Reykjavík is a funny
town for food: the
cheap places aren’t
always fabulous and
the fabulous places
aren’t ever cheap.
However, there
are a few ways to
construct a soothing
itinerary. There is
one that I usually do
alone, and another
is better in pairs.
Grapevine Airwaves Mini 2009 Go to www.grapevine.is/airwaves