Reykjavík Grapevine - 06.05.2011, Side 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