Reykjavík Grapevine - 11.10.2013, Blaðsíða 70

16
Wunderkind Jófrí!ur Ákadóttir has
the unaffected calm (and charm)
you might expect from someone
who, at 19, is already a veteran of
the Icelandic music scene. Having
won the decisive Icelandic Battle of
the Bands no less than twice—once
at age 14 with girlband Pascal Pi-
non and again in 2011 with three-
some Samaris—Jófrí!ur seems
poised to take on bigger and bigger
stages.
We met with Jófrí!ur to discuss the two
sides of the indie band coin, standing up
for the grassroots, and how to survive yet
another Airwaves.
Samaris recently signed to One Lit-
tle Indian Records in the UK, while
Pascal Pinon is signed to Morr Mu-
sic in Berlin. Practically speaking,
is there much of a difference in the
way the two bands are managed?
Absolutely. I’ve experienced two very dif-
ferent sides to this business. In Pascal
Pinon we don’t have an agent, we don’t
have a big production around us—except
for our label, which is quite established in
Germany. We have a booking agent but
besides that we’re in charge of all manage-
ment stuff ourselves. And that’s very nice,
to have control over everything... all our
finances, all releases, all artwork. But that
also means we have to spend much more
time on it.
In Samaris, I only have to be respon-
sible for this [points to herself]. I’m just in
charge of a specific, small part and then
there are a lot of other things that some-
one else is in charge of. And that is both
good and bad—like, say, when all of a sud-
den a single is released and I’ve never even
seen the artwork... let alone know there
was going to be a single. I find that very
uncomfortable.
Was it deliberate to split it up that
way or did Samaris just break
through in a different way?
Completely unplanned. The way I expe-
rienced it I always thought Samaris was
far more likely to break through, though;
it just was much more happening at the
time. It started going very well, very quick-
ly. But I mean I wasn’t really thinking too
much about it either. We’re not plotting all
that much. Quite the opposite.
Now you have people plotting on
your behalf.
That’s the thing! And I’m not ashamed
of having some kind of management.
You don’t have to be indie through-and-
through in order to be cool.
Tender Is The Night
This will be your fifth Airwaves.
What advice do you have for local
bands playing their first festival?
All the bands who are starting out could
do with slowing down a bit. You know,
there comes another Airwaves after this
Airwaves. And if you play your cards right
you will be in it. It’s not the most impor-
tant thing in the world. At least not from
my experience.
Do you get the sense that it’s almost
as important to play off-venue than
on- at this point?
If it’s well organised. But there are a lot of
things wrong with this off-venue concept.
All these companies are taking advantage
of the grassroots, a little bit, just by seeing
that everyone’s eager to play and using it
to their advantage. It’s not clear exactly
who is helping whom. I think these com-
panies should do more for the bands. In
the end it’s sort of their ethical responsi-
bility to pay them. I’m not saying that I’m
not going to play off-venue, you know, I
am, and it’s very fun. But there’s this way
of thinking that should be torn down—I
think that bands should just say: OK, this
is a concert and I’m going to charge a cer-
tain fee, just like with any other concert,
instead of these weird, unwritten rules.
It’s important to be careful because it
always piles up. You don’t realise it until
suddenly... I think we played 12 times [at
Airwaves] last year!
On The Viewless Wings
Of Poesy
How important is poetry to your
music? I know you and Áslaug [of
Samaris] took part the local Poetry
Slam last year. And there certainly
is something quite haunting, and
very poetic, about your lyrics.
I write poetry. And I write all the Pascal
Pinon lyrics, or most of them anyway.
I also really enjoy taking poetry from
books. Especially Romantic poetry. This
old Romantic style is so well suited for us
[in Samaris], because the words are both
avant-garde and they have this emphasis
and this flow. It becomes incredibly fun to
sing them, and to compose to them. We’ve
been doing this for the past two years, col-
lecting poetry. And sometimes we take
things that already exist and write new
music to it.
So there is no real emphasis on the
lyrics as a separate entity, then.
You don’t put the text in the liner
notes and expect people to read it
like poetry.
No, not yet anyway. We’ve interpreted it
in such a way that the singing has just
become a new instrument. You really
sing through the clarinet. Áslaug [in Sa-
maris] and I both studied clarinet for ten
years, and it’s funny to work with her in
this context because we’ve been through
this schooling together and held hands
through it and so I know a lot about how it
is to be a clarinet player. And the last part
of that musical education involved a lot of
interpretation of the instrument, singing
into it. And it works both ways, I guess, be-
cause I start to sing as though I was play-
ing the clarinet. It’s a good harmony.
Was It A Vision? Or A
Waking Dream?
Having gotten into music at such
a young age, and still being in the
band you started when you were
a preteen, you must still be go-
ing through a lot of phases, and
changes, musically. How has your
attitude towards these projects
changed?
When we started Pascal Pinon, there was
this element of having the courage to per-
form. It was terribly difficult, but in a way
it was beautiful, also. We were four girls,
then, making music, totally immersed in
our own adorable world. And I’ve been a
bit hard on that project... we had this hor-
rible out-of-tune guitar, and played all
these concerts where everything was in
total chaos. But I really appreciate it now,
looking back. Our record, also, was a total
mess, just the most lo-fi home-recording
trash you can find. But actually I really like
it now.
You were 14 then.
When we started the band, yeah. We were
15 when we released the album ourselves.
That’s part of what led to the other girls
quitting the band, leaving just me and
my sister, Ásthildur. It was incredibly
tense having our own release, 15 years old,
and we had no idea what we were doing.
Still, you know, it all worked out... I was
always walking into 12 Tónar with more
and more copies of the album and stuff
like that.
But it was very hard. I remember our
first concert was, just, intense. We played
at some community centre and we didn’t
have the courage to stand so we sat but
there weren’t any chairs so we sat on the
floor and were just singing but there were
no microphones. But then in the end ev-
eryone was incredibly pleased. They loved
it and we got so much good feedback. And
then it became easier. I am so glad that I
just went ahead and did it.
No Hungry Generations
Tread Thee Down
It’s a big step, taking yourself seri-
ously as an artist, this... unveiling.
It’s dangerous, too. I mean, I’m 19. I’m not
paying bills or renting an apartment or
having to support any offspring. I’m just
doing some stuff for myself and enjoying
it. I think it’s important that I don’t start
suffering from the seriousness of life just
yet.
I guess it’s important to the extent
that it enables you to concentrate
on what you are doing to the ex-
clusion of other things. To be able
to prioritise music, for example.
That step of taking oneself seri-
ously often seems more difficult,
somehow, for girls. Admitting to
the world that you see yourself as
an artist.
Yes, absolutely. That is very true. I’m ac-
tually relieved to have done it right away.
And I don’t know exactly what the im-
petus was. Maybe I wasn’t thinking too
much about it. I just didn’t want to wait, I
didn’t want to be like ‘oh, I’m so small I’m
not going to show them my songs, I’m not
going to do this or that.’ If I was starting
out in music now it would probably be very
difficult, perhaps even more difficult. But
it’s important not to stop and think about
things too much, and not put yourself too
much into context. I think I’m in the place
I am today as a result.
You have to start somewhere.
Exactly. And not hesitate to do so, whether
you’re 15 or 100.
THURSDAY + FRIDAY ISSUE 16 — 2013GRAPEVINE AIRWAVES
Jófrí!ur Ákadóttir soars on the wings of poesy
—Words by Valger!ur "óroddsdóttir
Who: Pascal Pinon
Where: Harpa Kaldalón
When: Friday, November 1 at 21:40.
Do you have a fashion idol?
There’s nobody in particular, al-
though I have gone through my
phases. When I was a kid it was
Captain Hook and then as a teen-
ager it was hippy culture, which
I’m actually still pretty into de-
spite some adaptations. I tend to
get really excited about things and
these days it’s decorative shirts,
especially ones with the paisley
pattern. It reminds me of both
cells and shooting stars, which
can be interpreted in many ways. I
really enjoy having it on me.
Which would you prefer, living
in a city and never seeing the
ocean or living your whole life
on a boat?
I think I’d prefer the boat. Seasick-
ness is at least not a problem for
me. I rewatched the great movie
‘Legend of 1900’ the other day and
that might explain my choice.
Have you had a stalker?
Not that I know of…
Do you find it easier to express
yourself in lyrics or through
music?
I just like expressing myself in
general. With Ojba Rasta it’s usu-
ally the lyrics that follow the mu-
sic, but I don’t think one is better
than the other. Lyrics and music
can work so well together. Oth-
erwise, 99% of everything that
I have done musically has been
lyrics-free. Sometimes the music
needs lyrics. Sometimes not, be-
cause a word can make the music
vortex around the word. Other
times, things can’t be said with
words. Everything is different.
What are you trying to get
across when you combine the
two?
It is impossible to explain here.
It’s a symbiosis. People have to
listen to the music and form their
own experiences and observa-
tions. I’ve put everything into this
and I mean what I produce. My
subjects matter a lot to me and I
make big demands on myself re-
garding what I produce. To make
music and to release it is a bit like
screaming into the future in some
way and then it echoes forward. So
one has to be careful about choos-
ing what to scream. What’s impor-
tant in life? Who am I? Isn’t the
existential crisis largely propel-
ling one forward?
How do you free the words in
your poems from their mean-
ing, if that is even something
that you strive to do?
The Icelandic language is full of
wormholes that allow ambigu-
ity to f lourish. Changing just one
word can send everything into a
different direction. Ambiguity
can add meaning and new ways
of experiencing the same thing.
This relativity makes it an excit-
ing area. That is, when things are
not lost in translation, but rather
found.
How do you go about creating
meaning in the music that you
make?
In some way you could say that I
strive to create meaning by taking
on things that I believe are impor-
tant and doing that with sincerity.
People also have to listen to the
music though. But when people
listen to the music, then it can be-
come meaningful.
Who: Samaris
Where: Gamla Bíó
When: Thursday, October 31 at 22:40.
Axel Sigur!arson