Reykjavík Grapevine - 10.04.2015, Blaðsíða 26

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ICELANDIC GOURMET FEAST
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26 The Reykjavík GrapevineIssue 4— 2015MUSIC
A friend of mine once said to
me, “You know, black metal
is a lot cleverer than it thinks
it is.” And while many black metalheads,
in their quest to be the tr00est ov cvlt,
would run for a mile at the merest hint
of intellectualising their music (see: the
ten tons of shit heaped upon Liturgy’s
Hunter Hunt-Hendrix for daring to pub-
lish a black metal “manifesto”), the fact
is that black metal deals with weighty
metaphysical stuff that would give most
philosophy students a run for their mon-
ey: religion, the afterlife, God, evil, being
and nothingness. It wallows in the terrify-
ing, inhuman stuff that most of us would
prefer not to think about, lest we find
ourselves curled up in the foetal position,
weeping existential tears.
If it seems that we’re going down a
huge theoretical bent, that’s because
‘Söngvar elds og óreiðu,’ (“Songs of
fire and chaos”)—the debut album by
Icelandic black metal outfit Misþyrm-
ing—contains some of the most thorough
musical articulations of inhumanity and
nothingness I’ve heard from an album in
a long while. And considering that their
contemporaries include the likes of Svar-
tidauði and Sinmara, this is not an idle
claim. From the depiction of a cave/abyss
of molten fire on the album cover, to the
leviathan nature of the music, there is a
nihilistic intent that defies you not to en-
gage with their music.
The opening salvos of “Söngur hei-
ftar” (“Song of fury”) and “...Af þjáningu
og þrá” (“... Of suffering and longing”) are
sulphurous blasts of fury and disarray that
still contain a clarity and structure that
hearken back to BM’s early days, circa
Mayhem and Enslaved’s ‘Vikingligr Veldi’,
when you had riffs and lead lines, and
not just pointless blasting and thrashing.
But the real fun starts when they decide
to put the metal down and step into the
annihilation. “Frostauðn” (“Frost desola-
tion”) is an ambient black hole of desola-
tion, with piercing string tones that would
kill fans of Júníus Meyvant if they stood
too close to it. Then, towards the end,
you have “Ég byggði dyr í eyðimörkinn”
(“I built a door in the desert”), an epic
track that incorporates elements of death
metal ringing-note guitars and thunder-
ing tom rhythms enhanced by guttural,
echoing vocals. It builds itself up into a
frenzy before eventually dying into “Stjör-
nuþoka” (“Galaxy”), a synth-heavy dirge
of cosmic despair that slowly tears itself
apart, disappearing back into the noth-
ing.
The accompanying blurb to the al-
bum’s Bandcamp page exclaims “VITALI-
TY THROUGH DARKNESS,” a declaration
of the band’s position in terms of creating
an album that is a brilliant testament of
a sepulchral philosophy of negation and
refusal. It might sound like they’re willing
for the end, but it is merely the beginning
of the awakening from your slumber.
- BOB CLUNESS
‘Revolution in the Elbow of
Ragnar Agnarsson, Furniture
Painter’ is that most maligned
and misunderstood of musical entities:
the concept album. Written by Ívar Páll
Jónsson, it tells the story of Elbowville,
a small nation that lives in the elbow
of said furniture painter. It’s an idyllic
community threatened by ambition and
greed as they strive for importance; they
eventually band together to rise up in
a revolution, with the “evol” part of the
word turned around to spell “love.” The
feels surely overflow with this one.
What we have here is not a live re-
cording of the musical performance but
the studio version. And one thing you
can say is that this album is the epitome
of professionalism. As well as some ef-
fort being put into the production val-
ues, a whole raft of Icelandic pop tal-
ent, from Sigríður “Hjaltalín” Thorlacius,
to the Lion King of Eurovision, Eyþór
Ingi Gunnlaugsson, have been drafted
for vocals. With Ívar declaring musical
influences from Radiohead to Queen,
the music itself ranges runs the gamut
stylistically, from the 70s-inspired pomp
that you expect from 10cc and second-
division Bond film soundtrack writers,
to contemporary plushie indie rock that
would give the likes of Monotown and
Biggi Hilmars a small chubby.
But despite all this competence, it’s
unfortunate that the music simply. Does.
Not. Rock. Some of the tracks, such as
opener “The Legacy of Elbowville,” do
have a capable groove and well-con-
structed bassline. But underneath the
swoop and bombast of the string sec-
tions and the strained melodrama, this is
music that is ordered, structured, utterly
lacking in life affirmation and danger. It’s
the soundtrack of quarterly reports and
metrics, instead of music that would ap-
proximate something like an actual revo-
lution. The fact that it features the lead
singer of Leaves, one of the dullest rock
bands this nation has had the misfortune
of birthing, tells you everything you need
to know.
I don’t doubt the sincerity of the in-
tent from everyone involved with this
album. It desperately wants to be light,
quirky and frivolous, yet also convey a
deep meaningful message When they
sing “R-e-e-e-volution!” on the final
track, it has all the call-to-arms, rabble-
rousing energy of a corporate team-
building seminar.
- BOB CLUNESS
Album
Reviews
Misþyrming
Ívar Páll Jónsson
Söngvar elds og óreiðu (2015)
www.facebook.com/Misthyrming
Proof that Icelandic BM
can surely mix it with the
best of what’s going on
out there.
Revolution in the Elbow of Ragnar
Agnarsson, Furniture Painter
(2014)
www.revolutionelbow.com
A Facebook political
picture meme set to music