Reykjavík Grapevine - 06.05.2011, Blaðsíða 20

Reykjavík Grapevine - 06.05.2011, Blaðsíða 20
20 The Reykjavík Grapevine Issue 5 — 2011 Just how menacing can a saxophone sound? Thanks to the debut effort from The Heavy Experience, we know the answer to be... rather a lot. Their 10” release has two tracks of chasmal rock sounds that sit at the border between Earth’s late-era desert harmonics and King Crimson going through a doom jazz workout. Both tracks sound thick and dense without sacrificing nuance to the twin demons of noise and dis- tortion. More Please! - BOB CLUNESS Sin Fang's new album, Summer Echoes, is that place where the ocean meets an erupting volcano. In some tracks, you can hear Sindri Már Sigfússon's voice moan through the electronic swooshing of the waves, but in others, the vocals, guitar, and drums plummet from the sky like little droplets of lava. Though the vocals themselves have a hard time contend- ing with the excellence of the melodic environment that surrounds them, they certainly don't hinder the music in any way and might even add to it in places. And for a hot second (really 3 minutes and 23 seconds), Sindri brings you back to civilization for his version of a sidewalk boom-box bass intermis- sion (‘Sing From Dream’). Though the album doesn't stun the senses as much as the eruption of an actual volcano would (pure awesomeness), it does combine enough sharp and sundry ele- ments to keep your attention for twelve tracks. - VANESSA SCHIPANI Sin Fang Summer Echoes heysinfang.com Hot, but not as hot as lava This review really can’t do justice to the cataclysm that is listening to Reason To Believe’s debut album. The glossy production values can’t mask the gaping homogeny that comes with having a cut-and-paste generic emo sound, along with whiny lyrics that surely came from an ‘only you can understand my pain’ random lyric generator. If you want to venture into a down- ward spiral of morbid self obsession and self-harm, then get something more profound as your soundtrack. This on the other hand, will almost certainly give you soul cancer. - BOB CLUNESS Reason to Believe The Scenery reasontobelievemusic Kill it. Then Bin it. The Heavy Experience The Heavy Experience Theheavyexperience Heavy As an Omnibus. Twang! Music | Reviews Malneirophrenia are a trio consist- ing of piano, cello and electric bass that used to call itself Medectophobia (but that was probably too difficult to pronounce). They play “horror punk cabaret” that feels like silent cinema soundtracks with a transfusion of Hitchcockian tension. Each track is a physical bipolar swirl that starts with a slow, ominous build up before cacophonous tearing noises akin to a pack of wolves with chainsaws start tearing away inside the speakers. It does occasionally veer towards hokey jauntiness, but I could definitely see these guys performing the soundtrack to a Halloween show- ing of ‘Nosferatu’. - BOB CLUNESS Malneirophrenia M Malneirophrenia Da da da DUM! It’s behind you... When I turned thirteen, and conse- quently started smelling like shit, my mom decided to break it to me in an in- teresting way. Rather than confront me with the mind-bending horrors of pu- berty, she gently told me that although she wasn’t bothered by the stench of rotting bacteria corpses in my armpits, the other kids in my class might be, and there’s this invention called deodorant, which may or may not prevent from me turning into a hideous antisocial freak no woman could love. Icelandic musicians have a habit of ignoring their own stink a lot of the time (in fact, a few of them seem to positively revel in it), but when their hot, sexy date with music criticism ends with a slap in the face and cheap wine all over their best shirt rather than the handjob-in- front-of-a-mirror they were hoping for, they tend to get pissy for some reason. I’ve gotten negative feedback in some way for every goddamn album review I’ve ever written that didn’t in- clude the word ‘awesome’ and, quite frankly, if it isn’t because of bad para- graph construction or clumsy use of similes, I couldn’t give a shit, and I wish they wouldn’t give a shit either. If you make music you’re happy with, why are you so insecure about the fact that one guy didn’t care all that much for your album? What puzzles me most is when ev- ery single other media outlet gives a band a glowing, five-star review, using the Icelandic equivalents of words like ‘masterpiece’ and ‘seminal’, and the Grapevine alone calls them ‘talentless’ and ‘asscocks’, and you still go around bitching about it. If my opinion alone states that you suck, and everyone else says you rule, which opinion do you think carries more weight? I’m not afraid to admit I’m wrong, and there are probably times when I should have lis- tened more carefully to a record before forming an opinion. And besides, don’t all you Icelandic musicians always yammer on about be- ing so unique, individualistic and differ- ent and totally independent of fashion and other people’s opinions? I thought you guys prided yourselves on being misunderstood and lonely and five years ahead of your time. Show some pride; wear your bad review on your sleeve. It shows you’re too awesome to be criticised and you just don’t give a fuck. Which brings me back to the I-don’t- think-you-st ink-but-others-might thing. I’m not saying your suckiness bothers me, but I’m holding Icelandic bands to the same standards I hold bands from all over the world to. I’m not going to sink to the disgusting low of congratulating a band for being ‘good, considering the fact that they’re Ice- landic’. That’s like intentionally losing to a child at a board game to spare its feelings, or having pity sex with some- one because they’re related to you. If I think a band sucks, I couldn’t care less if they’re Icelandic, American, Japanese or from motherfucking Mozambique. If they suck, they suck, period. It can be hard to tune it all out, to forget who you’re writing about and just listen to the music for what it is and not who’s making it, but that’s what I think music deserves. I care deeply about music, and I have infinite respect for its ability to plug emotions directly into a person’s brain without the clunky filter of words or language, but let’s face it: it’s not often any music truly achieves this, never mind the likelihood of it hap- pening on a regular basis on an Island of 320.000 people. I’m not immune to the we-Iceland- ers-gotta-stick-together phenomenon either. I’ve been sorely tempted to give glowing reviews to bands when I know who they are and I think they deserve a pat on the back for their effort, but when I take a step back and objectively judge the quality of the music, it’s crap. It’s hard to see past your own nose and give a review contrary to your own taste (and it works both ways; I’ve given good reviews to albums I myself would never listen to, but I can tell they’re good), but as a music critic, I regard it as my responsibility. So next time you get a shitty review, keep this in mind: at least it means the critic respects you enough to hold you to a standard, and who knows, he might even personally like your music, but is exercising a cold judgement call and condemning it based on its own quali- ties, rather than his opinion of it. In oth- er words, I don’t mind the fact that you suck, but that doesn’t mean you don’t suck. UNTITLED MUSIC COLUMN Music | Opinion SINDRI ELDON MAROESJKA LAVIGNE

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