Reykjavík Grapevine - 09.05.2014, Blaðsíða 38

Jazzing
It Up
The festival began in 2003 as a
cooperative one-day event started
by local artist Mugison and his
father. “At first it was like a bad
joke that got out of hand, that we
somehow pulled off,” Mugison says.
With time a certain group of local
people has taken responsibility
for the festival, handling all the
logistics involved and expanding it
to two days. “The Ísafjörður parents’
group handles security and we’ve
had the same people in the sales
booths for a while,” he says, stating
that the principle of the festival
not being for profit has remained
a key feature since the beginning.
The town comes together to cook
food for the artists, provides them
with lodgings, and makes sure the
trip is worth their while. Mugison
notes how some people have in
years past, perhaps jokingly, of-
fered to purchase the festival, but
he feels that that would change
both how visitors would view the
festival and what artists would
be invited to play. Asked whether
the festival will perhaps eventu-
ally grow into a three-day event,
Mugison confesses he wants quite
the opposite. “I really want to make
it shorter,” he says, “for that matter
bringing it back down to one day.
I’d like to break it up a bit, and
do something different, because
when you change something that’s
established, you can make it fresh
again. You’ll make some mistakes,
but I don’t know, maybe I’ve been
listening to too much jazz lately. I
don’t mind taking a few risks.”
38The Reykjavík Grapevine Issue 5 — 2014
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Moonwalks, Melancholy And Mayhem
Aldrei fór ég suður 2014
When we crossed Steingrímsfjarðar-
heiði plateau, which leads through the
mountains to the Westfjords themselves,
dread overtook awe as we got trapped in
a whiteout. We might still be there, had it
not been for a conscientious middle-aged
Ísafjörður man who took the time to pull
our jeep out. We crept over the plateau
at a snail’s pace, navigated the wind-
ing roads and finally, four hours behind
schedule, arrived in Ísafjörður. We made
our way to the hotel, hugging our beds like
long lost sailors returning ashore.
Outsiders At A Local Festival
Once our nerves had calmed, it was plain
to see that the old cliché about the weath-
er changing every five minutes in Iceland
holds doubly true in the Westfjords—one
moment the sun would bathe Ísafjörður in
its gentle spring rays, and the next fierce
winds would send icicles flying in from the
sides, stabbing your face and eyes like tiny
daggers. During those fleeting moments
when the weather was good, the scenery
was absolutely stunning. The 2,600 per-
son town is flanked on both sides by mas-
sive mountains, with a beautiful bay that
stretches as far as the eyes can see.
The town itself is also very pictur-
esque, and features some of the endear-
ing trademarks shared by many small
towns, such as a burger joint that also
serves as a musical instrument store and
super market. You can get anywhere in
Ísafjörður from the centre in about fifteen
minutes walking, leaving little excuse for
tourists not to explore everything the town
has to offer.
Even as the town became bloated
with out of town festivalgoers, the proud
inhabitants remained friendly, and per-
haps more importantly, patient, as visitors
inefficiently queued at the liquor store,
the local Subway sandwich shop and the
grocery store. Although I am certain the
bakery staff were frustrated at the inde-
cisiveness of some of their new patrons
during the lunch rush hour, they remained
talkative, helpful and upbeat.
The festival, now in its eleventh
rendition, was held at a warehouse at the
edge of town, with “rokkstrætóinn” (“The
Rock Bus”) ferrying people from the town
centre for free. The locals handled se-
curity and manned the food booth, hap-
pily passing the time by chatting away to
their neighbours. It felt like being at a big
family reunion, with children of all ages
scampering around and singing along
to the more child-friendly songs, parents
chit-chatting between sets and teenagers
drinking copiously, bragging about being
able to stomach their 180 proof moon-
shine (that’s 90% ABV, folks). What was
apparent was that this was a local festival,
run by local people—a cooperative com-
munity event where guests are expected
to behave decently.
As the afternoon turned into eve-
ning, a boisterous announcer armed with
a wooden sword and shield shouted over
the crowd that children under the age of
12 needed to be tucked away or accom-
panied by adults, and that everyone else
should go have hot dogs and fish stew.
After a few appearances, he had riled up
the crowd and gotten them to join him
in chanting slogans, rules of the festival
and consumerist propaganda, urging the
audience to purchase food from the ven-
dors and make sure no one smoked in the
venue.
Fifty Shades Of Fun
Just before the children were taken home,
the magnificent Páll Óskar moonwalked
across the stage, singing about a better
world and love, all the while launching
confetti all over the crowd while danc-
ing fabulously. Friday's concert was full
of highlights including Mammút's high
octane performance, Icelandic rock leg-
ends Maus playing some of their best hits
and Cell7 performing with a full band as
she ripped through her tight lyrics about
feminism and matters of the heart. Her-
migervill closed the show in style, rocking
away through his 8-bit theremin-infused
set, only to then keep the party going at
local club Krúsin straight afterwards.
The Saturday show started on a
more downbeat note, with Iceland's great-
est cover band Kaleo playing everything
but the song that made them famous.
The punk-poets of Grísalappalísa, how-
ever, upped the ante when frontman Gun-
nar Ragnarsson leapt recklessly into the
crowd while the band vigorously jammed
on songs about the coming of spring. DJ
Flugvél og geimskip took those gathered
on a journey that was out of this world,
and the Aldrei fór ég suður house band,
comprised of festival creator Mugison
and several others, brought the roof down
with the one song they played.
Hjaltalín massaged the crowd's
eardrums with their gentle melancholic
sound, only to have Sólstafir unleash the
pent-up frustration of all the angst-ridden
teenagers in attendance. This in turn cre-
ated the festival's only mosh pit, and it was
as massive as it was ferocious, engulfing
everyone close to the stage and persisting
until the end of the set. Retro Stefson then
got the whole crowd jumping hazardously
from one side to the next to their brand of
joyful Euro-disco, closing the festival with
with crowd pleading for more.
At the end of it all the crowd was
kindly asked to vacate the premises as the
local staff would really like to get to their
homes at a reasonable hour. The weather
remained mercurial the following day, as
festivalgoers soaked away their hang-
overs at the local indoor swimming pool,
and then head back south in an orderly
fashion.
Aldrei fór ég suður demonstrates
yet again how festivals can be successful
and fun without being opulent or com-
mercial. This communal project shows no
signs of slowing down or selling out, pro-
viding an oasis of country-style enjoyment
during the Easter weekend.
Words by
Tómas Gabríel Benjamin
Photos by
Snæfríður Hölludóttir
Can the inhabitants of a small fishing hamlet on the out-
skirts of Iceland join forces and collectively host a mu-
sic festival that features a whopping 26 bands and art-
ists performing over two days—and do so successfully,
without charging admission? (SPOILER: yes. Yes they
can). Pumped up and excited, we hit the road early on
Easter Thursday to find out. Our destination: the town of
Ísafjörður in the Westfjords, where the music festival "Al-
drei fór ég suður" ("I Never Went South") takes place ev-
ery Easter. Our initial glee turned into awe the moment we
left the city behind—we could see the mountains growing
bigger, the rivers running deeper and human constructs
fewer and farther apart. Towns quickly gave way to rolling
hills, white mountains and wide open expanses with not a
soul around for miles.
“The town itself was also
very picturesque, and
featured some of the
endearing trademarks
of a small town, such as
a burger joint that also
serves as a musical in-
strument store and super
market.”
Accommodation provided by Hótel Ísafjörður, book accommodation at www.hotelisafjor-
dur.is or call +354-4564111. Car provided by Hertz car rental, book at www.hertz.is. Music