Reykjavík Grapevine - 11.10.2013, Blaðsíða 23

nuhljómplötur (“Star Records”), a short-lived
branch of Íslenskir tónar that specialised in
singles by young singers, some of them sea-
soned from singing with the dance bands.
As the ‘50s turned into the ‘60s, a new
generation of musicians and listeners start-
ed gaining ground. The older jazzists gave
way to younger dudes who “understood”
rock ‘n’ roll. During the summer of 1960,
new bands featuring rock-thirsty teenaged
boys mushroomed. Rocking dance bands
such as Junior, Eron, Uranus and Falcon
played wherever and whenever they could,
but Plúdó soon became the premier band.
The band had to change its name when a
silver making company, also named Plúdó,
complained. The band chose Lúdó instead,
and added “og Stefán,” probably echoing
Cliff Richards and the Shadows, who were
all the rage at that time. Stefán Jónsson sang
for Lúdó og Stefán, and in the early ‘60s they
were Iceland’s hottest band.
The band could in part thank their man-
ager Gu!laugur Bergmann for its popular-
ity. He had been one of the main rockers in
town and would later become a big shot in
the Icelandic fashion world when he opened
his breakthrough fashion store Karnabær
(named after London’s Carnaby Street). As
a band manager, Gu!laugur was very inno-
vative. For instance, he advertised that Lúdó
og Stefán would play “Gagarin-rock” (in
honour of the Soviet astronaut) and “Horror-
rock.” The band had no clue when they read
those ads in the papers. When they asked,
Gu!laugur answered: “Just try to jam some
outer space kind of music!” As for “Horror-
rock”— “You just put nylon socks on your
heads!” Gu!laugur also took the band into
the fashion business by manufacturing
special “Plúdó sweaters.” The sweaters (just
simple white sweaters with a big black P on
the chest) were popular and shifted 2,500
copies in the summer of 1960.
Lúdó og Stefán crossed paths with the
hottest new comedy talent in town, Ómar
Ragnarsson. He was only eighteen when
he started regularly performing shows with
an original programme, a unique mix of
sketches, impersonations and rock ‘n’ roll.
“I had no role models, Icelandic or for-
eign,” he says. “Up to then, Danish revue-
songs and outdated American songs had
been the main features in comedy routines
here—it was almost always the same song
with different joke-lyrics each time. My pro-
gramme was based on the latest rock songs,
the most popular songs at the time. This was
a breakthrough. This was new and fresh. I
was the right man at the right time. I was
and I am a rocker.
“I am a fan of Chuck Berry and Little
Richard. I never thought Elvis was complete-
ly true, however.” Lúdó supplied the music
to a few early ‘60s singles featuring Ómar
Ragnarsson’s tunes, as well as releasing few
hits of their own. As the beat bands came
crashing in, Lúdó og Stefán quickly became
obsolete and eventually split up. They would
reform in the ‘70s and release two popular
albums of old foreign rock songs with new
Icelandic lyrics, most of them written by
"orsteinn Eggertsson. The band kept going
far into the 21st century, playing alongside
Sigur Rós on a few occasions as well as per-
forming at Sigur Rós’ end of tour party in
2008, where they totally lifted the roof off the
house with their eternally cool rock ‘n’ roll
music.
Lúdó og Stefán pose on the covver
of Fálkinn in 1965.
23 The Reykjavík GrapevineIssue 16 — 2013
Words
Haukur S. Magnússon
Over 100 Years Of
Musicians Trying To
Escape The Island
Dr. Gunni On His History Of
Popular Music In Iceland
Hi Dr. Gunni! Congratula-
tions on your new book,
'Blue Eyed Pop - The His-
tory of Popular Music in
Iceland'! The title is mostly
explanatory, but perhaps
you'd be willing to tell us
what it's about, in broad
terms?
Oh thank you. Yes, the “History of popular
music in Iceland” subtitle explains a lot.
This is just the story—as I see it—from
Icelanders’ earliest cornball attempts of
making “pop” in the 19th century to the
crazy growth and prosperity of today,
having fostered a variety of big interna-
tional acts. This is quite the feat for such a
dwarfish nation.
My take slants more towards entertain-
ment than academia, and I try to explain
the various and changing zeitgeists of the
pop scene as we move along. The history
of Icelandic pop is full of short stories about
people and bands, and they often have a
similar storyline that involves folks trying to
escape the sameness of the tiny Icelandic
scene. Icelandic musicians had been trying
this for decades before finally someone
succeeded in the ‘80s. The book is full of
pictures too, many of which are previously
unseen, silly stuff like Björk working at a
farm in the early ‘80s—I'd say this is a coffee
table book, as well as the first book of this
kind—ever!
By popular music, do
mean chart-topping
music, only? Is there a
decided lack of Andhéri
and Cranium in the book—
or does it also cover less
popular, yet rather influen-
tial, music?
The chart topping stuff gets its fair share,
but we also have lots of what was once
called “underground” music. I released a
version of this book in Icelandic last year
that was three times the size, the “inter-
national version” had to be much more
explanatory and I focus much more on stuff
that is known outside of Iceland. Local he-
roes like Bubbi Morthens are mentioned of
course, but they do not get three chapters
here, like they did in the Icelandic version.
Naïve Icelanders
Indeed, you've published
two Icelandic language
books on the history of
Icelandic pop, one in the
early '00s and then the
one that came out a year
ago. What's the differ-
ence between those two
books?
The first one was only about “rock” and
with that I could skip all kinds of stuff. The
last one was about “pop” so then I had to
include everything, as “pop” for me means
all “popular music,” whatever that means.
You know, both some accordion playing
dudes in the early 20th century, the jazz
scene in the ‘50s, etc.
What about the book’s
title, the Sugarcubes-ref-
erencing 'Blue Eyed Pop'?
What's the story there? Is
it just a cool phrase, or is
it some sort of statement
on your subject matter,
Icelandic pop music?
It's both a cool title and also descriptively
of the Icelandic mindset in pop music and
what have you. Icelanders are pretty naive
in thinking that the world revolves around
us and that everybody is interested in us.
In Icelandic, the phrase “blue-eyed” means
being gullible. And through the decades,
pop musicians have been very “blue-eyed”
about their possibilities of breaking through
to the greater world. Fortunately, we always
have more and more artists that manage
just that and reinforce our collective
belief, thus keeping the passion alive. Am
I starting to sound like a tourist brochure
here? Sorry, that was not my intention, but
unfortunately I often do!
History Repeating
Having immersed yourself
in the history so much,
you must have drawn
some conclusions...
Yes, through the history of Icelandic pop,
the same story keeps repeating over and
over, perhaps with a few minor differences.
For instance, the jazz snobs of the ‘50s
arguing about music in "The Jazz Paper"
are the same types as the Pitchfork-reading
indie snobs of today arguing about music
on-line. And always, the vast majority of
people just want something they can hum
to, something that gets them moving on the
dancefloor.
What do you believe to be
some of the most pivotal
moments for Icelandic
pop?
Those moments are measured by the re-
lease of great records and when Icelandic
artists enjoy success abroad. It's all in the
book of course, but for me the five best
bands of all times in Iceland are Hljómar
(AKA Thor's Hammer), Fræbbblarnir,
Purrkur Pillnikk, The Sugarcubes and Sigur
Rós.
Its greatest triumph?
I don't want to pick one special moment for
this, but I guess after our bank collapse a
lot of people saw that our success in pop
was for real, not some fickle bubble.
And its most sadly lost op-
portunity?
Songwriter Gunnar "ór!arson (of Hljómar,
etc.) should be world famous by now for all
of his great songs.
The Finnur Eydal Band with
Helena Eyjólfs.
Photo: Unknown.
KK Sextet with singer "órunn Pálsdóttir
play rock in 1956. The ultra hip
Reykjavík youth stays cool.
Photo: Unknown