Reykjavík Grapevine - 16.08.2013, Side 28

28The Reykjavík Grapevine Issue 12 — 2013 Music
GusGus Bid Farewell
To Faktorý
Faktorý’s Final Moments
The Sunday night in question was
special and historical for few differ-
ent reasons. It was GusGus’ first con-
cert at Faktorý and it was GusGus’
last concert at Faktorý. It was Sunday
night and it was the last night Faktorý
would be open to the public.
There is a lot of history in the low-
ceilinged concert venue on the upper
floor of Faktorý. It has hosted thou-
sands of concerts in the more than ten
years that it has operated as a live mu-
sic venue, in some form or the other.
Before it was called Faktorý, the club
was called Grand Rokk, a place where
many bands who are now among the
most popular in the country—bands
like Hjálmar and Retro Stefson—took
their first steps towards the limelight.
A lot of memories have been made
there, a lot of good times celebrated.
Anxiety
The crowd this evening was anxious
and the excitement in the air was
palpable before the band took stage.
Suddenly, all of the lights were turned
off, so you couldn’t see the stage.
Shadowy figures appeared behind
an array of music making machines
and you could hear the lush strings
and staccato synth notes of “Within
You,” the biggest hit from GusGus’
2011 album ‘Arabian Horse.’ Then
lights went on and Högni crept onto
the stage and started pouring his guts
out through the microphone. The de-
livery was intense, and his soulful
singing often hovered just behind or
ahead of the beat, which just added
to the charm.
Daníel Ágúst joined him on stage
for “Arabian Horse,” dressed in a
swanky white suit and all amped up.
Nobody holds a long note quite like
Daníel Ágúst, and he often does so
with his eyes closed and so much
feeling that you can see the vein in
his forehead pulsating. It took a bit of
time for the crowd to get shaking, but
by the forth song, “Deep Inside,” the
crowd started moving and the room
heated up like a sauna. I threw my
sweater under the nearest table and
my notebook out the metaphorical
window.
At some point it was as if the audi-
ence had turned into a blobby mass,
one living, breathing, but mostly
sweating organism that pulsated in
euphoric unity. It’s a vibe that certain-
ly couldn’t be replicated in a larger,
fancier venue. Like Harpa.
Crescendo
GusGus used the opportunity to play
a few new songs that all sounded
fresh, but one of them stood out. I’ve
heard it once before, six months ago,
at their Sónar Festival concert, but it
still resonated with me and gives off
the impression that it will probably be
the first single for GusGus’ upcoming
album. It’s immensely catchy with
beautiful vocal harmonizing by the
two singers and a chorus steeped in
dance music/DJ culture nostalgia:
“Do you remember the days/When
we started to crossfade.”
Though most GusGus songs rely
heavily on melody and pop hooks,
dance music is all about the craft
of crescendos, and Biggi Veira and
President Bongo know that inside
out. Their sound palette is not very
big: mainly squelchy bass, white
noise hiss, bright synth tones and
drum fills, but they put it to maxi-
mum effect, pushing each element to
a breaking point in glorious build-ups
and inevitable explosions to huge
cheers from the crowd. GusGus also
brought with them their own sound
and lighting system, turning the rath-
er lo-fi venue into a sonic and visual
hi-fi. The band’s lighting guy plays
an integral part in the set, sometimes
piling on streams of strobe lights and
turning the band members into mov-
ing silhouettes.
By the time the groove of 2007
hit “Moss” began wafting from the
speakers everybody was high on
love, and I banged my head so hard
that I probably scattered sweat from
my hair over half a dozen people.
Daníel Ágúst performed the song
with vigour and assurance, turning to
Biggi Veira and President Bongo and
waving his hands at them like he was
conducting an electronic orchestra.
Then it was encore time and after a
few minutes they came back, and
Biggi Veira thanked the crowd and the
venue and condemned Reykjavík City
Council for its lack of balls in stand-
ing up to developers and protecting
cultural institutions like Faktorý and
Nasa. They performed instrumental
“Selfoss” before adding the last song
of the evening, “Add This Song,”
where everything was turned up to
eleven and your senses were soaked
in overwhelming joy.
by Davíð Roach Gunnarsson
11 Faktorý http://gusgus.com
AUGUST
After the concert I was a sweaty mess in dire need of
a shower, but since it was Faktorý’s last night I stuck
around to see what would happen, cooling myself down
outside the bar.
The cops came soon enough, as the legal closing
time for bars in this fair city of ours is 1AM on Sundays.
After giving a warning, the 5-0 left and then the music
was put back on while Faktorý’s resident DJ, KGB, ran
to his apartment to get his equipment. Soon, the party
back in full motion.
The place was crammed with people and every table
and chair was used as a dancing platform—you could
sense that these young wildlings were not willing to
give up their favourite party spot to greedy developers
this easily.
KGB pumped his eclectic party mix and the public
sang along, poured beer into and onto their faces, and
started smoking cigarettes inside; the overall mood was
a strange mix of sorrow and celebration. The only thing
that could possible stop this party was state-sponsored
force, which arrived in the form of ten policemen around
3 AM, one of whom ran into the DJ booth to prevent
another song from being played.
The lights came on, and Faktorý was finished, but at
least it went out with style and a modicum of resistance.
It lives on in our collective cultural consciousness.
CONCERTCONCER
T
R E V IE W
Hörður Sveinsson