Reykjavík Grapevine - 13.07.2012, Qupperneq 41

41
The Reykjavík Grapevine
Issue 10 — 2012
lyrics in so doing. You might call him
the king of Faroese rock and roll.
THE REVOLUTION WILL BE SUNG
IN FAROESE
The following Friday, Teitur is playing
Sirkús again. The place is packed and
the performance is superior, but the
whole thing is starting to feel a tad like
Groundhog Day. The next night I opt for
Sjónleikahúsið instead (the city the-
atre), where everyone seems getting
ready to celebrate Independence Day.
Iceland’s, not their own.
The Faroe Islanders voted for in-
dependence in 1946, two years after
Icelanders declared theirs. But the gov-
ernment in Copenhagen, no longer oc-
cupied by the Germans and not thrilled
at the prospect of losing yet another
North Atlantic colony, annulled the ref-
erendum. The Faroese had to settle for
Home Rule instead, and this has been
the case ever since.
Malan Marnersdottir at Fróðs-
kaparsetrið, the Faroese University,
claims that within Faroese letters, the
issue has been largely resolved. Every-
one who writes is in favour of indepen-
dence so there is little need to debate
the issue further, even if the end result
has not been achieved. If this is the
case with Faroese literature, then Faro-
ese punk is decidedly more vocal.
MIDDLE FINGERS IN THE WIND
After midnight on June 17, Iceland’s
Independence Day, Tveyhundrað (or
200, if you prefer) take the stage. They
are members of the left-wing, pro-
Independence Tjóðveldi party, and it’s
almost hard to tell if this is the musical
wing of the independence movement or
if the party is the political wing of the
band. The walls are filled with slogans,
from the practical (“Did you know that
Faroese fisheries are worth more per
head than oil in Norway”) to the more
militant (“Enough is spoken, now we
march!”).
With Telecaster slung so low it al-
most reaches his knees, singer-guitar-
ist Niels moves up to the microphone,
a huge Faroese flag draped in the
background and the crowd punches
their fists in the air. One almost expects
him to start belting out “Born In The
Faroe Islands,” or some such thing. The
opener “Við love skuldu vit land byggja”
actually sounds like first rate stadium
rock, if only all 50,000 inhabitants of the
islands would get together and fill one.
The song is from their new album
‘Vendetta,’ which sounds great but be-
lies their punk roots. These are more in
evidence on 2001’s ‘200%,’ whose cov-
er shows a young Niels giving a finger
to the crowd. The finger is still in the
air in their latest work, with the track
“Miðfingurin til Miðflokkin” (“Middle-
Finger to the Middle-Party”). The
middle party in question is a far-right
Christian party that is currently causing
a great deal of mischief on the islands.
BRINGING OUT THE GIMP
The album ‘200%’ also marked the
debut of “Sambandsgimpurinn,” (The
Union Gimp), who appears on the track
of the same name as well as on the
tender love song “Gimpurinn og Eg,”
sung in faux falsetto. The Gimp has
been known to make concert appear-
ances chained to the drum set and clad
in naught but leather mask and under-
wear, scratching the floor and no doubt
thinking about anal sex and the King-
dom of Denmark.
As the evening progresses the
side doors of the city theatre are flung
open, the intention seemingly to wake
up all of Tórshavn and beyond, a task
200 seem hell-bent on achieving. The
band describes themselves as “In
the Ghetto meets Motorhead as per-
formed by the Sex Pistols” and who am
I to disagree (sorry, Teitur, their words,
not mine). Teitur himself can be spot-
ted here shaking hands, and unlike the
now dormant Québec independence
movement, anything seems possible.
200 may have a knack for a great cho-
rus as well as a great cause, but are
rarely heard outside the Faroe Islands,
although they have been known to play
in the free town of Christiania in Co-
penhagen. Sadly, the Gimp has been
retired, but we shall all act as if he were
still here.
As I depart Tórshavn, Icelandic
flags are swaying in the wind. There,
people seem to take our independence
more seriously than we do. That’s the
thing about the Faroe Islands, they fre-
quently feel more like Iceland than Ice-
land does.
AN EIVöR OF OUR OWN
Back home and not yet having gotten
my fill of the Faeroes, I head for Harpa
where our very own Faroese superstar,
the sublime Eivör, is performing along
with the band Yggdrasill. The latter play
an eclectic mix of Faroe and Greenlan-
dic folk, along with music set to verse
by national poet William Heinesen and,
indeed, William Shakespeare. They are
fun to listen to and the acoustics here
are better, but it is still interesting to
note the difference between the Faroe
Islands as presented abroad and what
people there listen to at home.
Yggdrasill and Eivör are both on
their way to tour North America, and
this gig is something of a warm up.
Eivör has the looks, the charm, the
voice and the sound to belong on the
world stage, but seems content to have
made it in Iceland.
All this, and still no mention has
been made of Metalfolksters Týr, the
great singer-songwriter tradition exem-
plified by Kári P. or the burgeoning rap
scene ably represented by Swangah
Dangah. The latter once taped a church
speech where the preacher threatened
his congregation with hell and then set
it to music, leading the hapless minister
to tone down his act a bit. It’s good that
at least somewhere, rappers are mind-
ing the language of churchgoers.
So, where shall we look next?
Guðrið Hansdóttir has just moved to
big city Reykjavík and performs here
frequently. She might very well become
the next Eivör, while Eivör tours the
States to become the next Björk. Teitur,
of course, sounds like no one else, and
it’s hard to see anyone matching the
energy or purpose of 200. Then again,
perhaps Scotland will have something
like them one day. One can only hope.
“Guðrið Hansdóttir has just moved to big city
Reykjavík and performs here frequently. She might
very well become the next Eivör, while Eivör tours
the States to become the next Björk”
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