Reykjavík Grapevine - 16.07.2010, Side 36

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24
The Reykjavík Grapevine
Issue 10 — 2010
Music | Concert Review
Singing In The Rain
Bob Cluness gets all inspired and stuff
Awful lyrics bubbling with emotion
When we reach Hljómskálagarðurinn (the show
was moved from its original location at Seljalands-
foss due to some unfortunate weather), there are
already several thousand people there, and Amiina
have started their set. The rain is coming down
heavy and the crowd resembles an umbrella shan-
tytown. Amiina’s chamber folktronica is a solid
start to the proceedings. That is, if you can actually
hear it, as everyone seems to be yakking away quite
loudly. I try to get closer as the PA guy manages to
kick in some bass to make their sound a bit stron-
ger. But just as we start to enjoy the music, Amiina
say “takk” and they finish. What, was that it?
One might imagine that sometimes Sigur Rós-
collaborator Steindór Andersen’s mournful, Old
Icelandic style chants accompanied by music from
Hilmar Örn Hilmarsson and Páll á Húsafelli would
be too bleak and sad for this occasion. But actually
I found it rather soothing and entirely appropriate
for this grey, sodden evening. Droning violin wails
with his raga-style voice sounds like the sort of
thing that you’d want to hear in times of national
crisis, bubbling with emotion underneath the cop-
per-plated baritone notes.
Bubbling with emotion I suppose is one way you
could describe Hafdís Huld. If by bubbling with
emotion you actually mean head bobbing coquett-
ishly from side to side like those toy dogs you see in
cars, complimented by an inane grin. I found her
songs too lightweight and watery to hold much at-
tention. Her voice was good, but damn, those lyrics
she uses it to spew are truly awful. Perhaps it’s a
total coincidence that the heaviest rain of the night
fell while she was singing.
Dikta is an Icelandic band
As Dikta were setting up, we chat with some Amer-
icans living in Reykjavik. Turns out they thought
that Dikta were an American band and didn’t re-
alise that they were actually Icelandic. Not surpris-
ing, really, since most mainstream these days US
rock is formulaic and safe. Dikta, however, are all
positive and happy tonight. After all, their music is
INSPIRED BY ICELAND! They do the hits, includ-
ing ‘Just Getting Started,’ which melds Coldplay
and Scouting for Girls in an unholy marriage of
convenience. A million extra points for finishing
the song as a plane passes overhead towards the air-
port. You’d think that was deliberate.
Next up are Mammút, the first real highpoint of
the evening. As per the night’s orders, their set is
restricted to three songs, but it is punchy, crisp and
to the point. They’re certainly the most rocking of
tonight’s acts, although that’s not saying much, re-
ally. And Lordy above, the rain stops as well. Mam-
mút’s music stops rain and heals the sick. Official!
It takes what seems like forever for Seabear to
get ready. When their first song starts I’m rather
underwhelmed, to be frank. The violin and trum-
pet just felt off-tempo and screechy. I was already
looking glum, thinking: “Oh, not another crappy
Icelandic chamber pop outfit.” But their second
song, ‘Cold Summer,’ sounded much better, with
tighter arrangements. They win me over with their
final song and I’m pleased that they finish their
short set on a high note. Another high point to the
evening.
Damien Ricegasm
A man with wild curly hair and a beard ambles on
stage. At first I thought it was Glen Hansard. But
the wild squeals from crowd revealed it was Damien
Rice. While I don’t dislike the guy, you could say I
have a malevolent indifference to his angsty acous-
tic-by-numbers schlop. Any possible enjoyment I
would have gotten from him was extinguished by
having to move all the time because people around
me kept going “OH MY GOD DAAAAMIEN
RICE!!! HE’S SO DREAMY AND GREAT WHOOO
WHOOOO!!!!”
I mean, really? The man’s OK, but not THAT
OK. He finishes his set to rapturous applause.
The crowd’s Damien obsession means that the
next artist has her work cut out. Alas for Lay Low,
she certainly did disappoint. You feel for her since
everyone had just seen their idol Damien Rice and
so didn’t pay attention to her at all. It also didn’t help
that—despite the fact that she’s now started mov-
ing around when she plays—she brings the worst
presence of all of the night’s local acts. Oh yeah and
her songs have a crushing monotony to them that
just reinforces the cold I’m feeling. After her second
song, she says “takk fyrir,” and walks off stage. Not
a lot of people notice.
This is first time I’ve ever seen Pondus play
live. Or even heard of them. Their post-rock indie
sound was slooooooow, almost moribund. At this
stage in the evening’s proceedings there should be
fireworks from the stage, but it seems the rain has
killed off any attempts at histrionics from tonight’s
acts. Their last song picks up the pace a little as I
write down “SNOW PATROL!” in my notebook for
no particular reason.
Will the real Glen Hansard please stand
up?
Eventually the REAL Glen Hansard turns up, all
wild haired and ginger bearded, like a caveman ver-
sion of Malcolm McLaren. Yup, his music is also of
the folksy troubadour variety, but he seems more
jocular and energetic than what has gone on be-
fore, and I applaud him for that. He also manages
to one-up Mr. Rice by getting his own little back-
ing band to add some flesh to his songs. However,
I really need to go to the toilet and when I get back,
my wife is enthusing about how “Damien came on-
stage with Lára and, like, he sung this old lullaby in
Icelandic and they were all singing and... it was so
great! Wow!”
While we were waiting for the next act, Para-
bólur apparently played a very short set, not on the
stage but by the edge of the pond. This meant that I
completely missed them and only saw them on the
way to get a beer while they were packing up their
satellite dishes. Why where they not playing much
nearer the stage, or even on the stage itself? A lot of
people didn’t even realise they were playing.
A monotonic representation of a diverse
and vibrant scene
Jason Pierce of Spiritualized Acoustic Mainline ar-
rives onstage and takes to his seat. A third of the
punters seem to have gone home, as it’s now ridic-
ulously easy to reach the front of the stage due to
large gaps in the crowd. It seems that a lot of people
wanted to listen to watery acoustic folk nonsense
and weren’t prepared to watch some real songs. The
philistines!
Now I may have bitched about Lay Low’s non-
existent stage presence, but it’s nothing compared
to what Mr. Pierce had in store for us. Sitting down,
he hardly talks or moves, and he barely acknowledg-
es the crowd. He’s so impassive that he comes off
as an Easter Island statue made from the mashed
together waxworks of Richard Ashcroft and Roy Or-
bison, with added steel cable for neck veins.
But at least he has the songs to back up all the
sitting motionlessly. From the opener, ‘Sitting On
Fire,’ we’re treated to an hour of Spiritualized’s
greatest hits and the velvet throated singing from
Jason and his backing choir. The songs are full of
big time gospel dynamics, my personal favourite
being ‘Cool Waves,’ a lilting lullaby that would be
the soundtrack as you head towards the light at the
end of that very long dark tunnel. At the end he fin-
ishes to an appreciative, if greatly reduced crowd.
So what to make of “the gig of the year”? Well it
was most certainly a valiant effort to generate inter-
est in Iceland and its music, and there were some
really good moments. But the line-up was too simi-
lar in tone and not really a true representation of
some of the quality music that is coming from this
place right now. And with some of the sub-par per-
formances on display tonight, it was pretty much a
blessing that the gig got moved. I mean, if you were
at Seljalandsfoss and you thought the gig sucked
balls, how the hell would you be able to get away?
Words
Bob Cluness
Photography
Hörður Sveinsson
It was presented as an extravaganza
of “eclectic music, inspired by
Iceland.” Then it was (very quietly)
announced that some of the art-
ists (Hjaltalín, Retro Stefson, For a
Minor Reflection, GusGus) would
only be present in the form of ‘pre-
recorded performances from scenic
locations throughout Iceland”. Oh
well, at least we could see those
fancy videos at the gig. Then we
learned that these videos could only
be viewed on the live webcast. So
if some of the best acts on the bill
weren’t going to be anywhere near
the stage, what would the people
who went to the actual gig be
watching? I went to investigate...
“So what to make of “the gig
of the year”? Well it was most
certainly a valiant effort to
generate interest in Iceland and its
music, and there were some really
good moments”
Think Bob might have gotten it wrong? Judge for yourself: stream the entire
concert at www.inspiredbyiceland.com. And then write us letters about it. OK?