Reykjavík Grapevine - 04.12.2015, Blaðsíða 17

FRI
17The Reykjavík GrapevineIssue 18 — 2015
MEET THE NWOIHH!
By Hannah Jane Cohen
Úlfur
Úlfur
(Pronounced Ooh-le-ver Ohh-le-ver)
Members:
Helgi and Arnar
Listen to:
“Tarantúlur”
facebook.com/ulfurulfur
“So I was 13, rapping along to Tu-
pac about killing cops, while living
in Sauðárkrókur,” Helgi says with a
laugh, emphasising Sauðárkrókur,
the small village in northern Iceland
where both he and Arnar—the two
Úlfur Úlfur boys—grew up. Years lat-
er, they joined up to form a band that
eventually evolved into Úlfur Úlfur.
Of the fresh new hip-hop acts repre-
senting the New Wave Of Icelandic
Hip-Hop (NWOIH) in this issue, Úl-
fur Úlfur are the clear veterans, hav-
ing actively made music together for
the better part of a decade. However,
they are decidedly new and shiny to
the outside world, having released
their hit début album ‘Tvær plánetur’
only a few months ago.
Lyrically, the group explores Icelan-
dic reality. “I mean it’s not that tough
here,” Helgi tells me, “but the Icelan-
dic people are generally depressed, I
think, because of the darkness. We
don’t lie about that—or anything—in
our songs. We’re really honest.” Mu-
sically, their beats are intricate with
catchy choruses, culminating in a rap
that absolutely transcends any lin-
guistic boundaries.
When I ask how they view the cur-
rent hip-hop scene, Helgi pauses be-
fore simply stating, “It’s beautiful.”
He later continues, “It’s such a small
scene, so everybody is close. Every-
body meets at Prikið. But you know,
it’s never been as big as it is now.”
Outside of Úlfur Úlfur, Helgi pro-
duces for Emmsjé Gauti and Reykja-
víkurdætur—and he’s working on an
instrumental album. The band hopes
to release a new album next summer
or fall.
Kött
Grá Pje
(Pronounced Kot-grah-pee-ey)
Members:
Atli
Listen to:
“Aheybaró”
soundcloud.com/kott-gra-pje
Kött Grá Pje is a difficult name to
translate. “It basically means cat,”
Atli, the man behind the title, tells me,
“then ‘grá’ is just grey, but in the femi-
nine form, and pje is ‘P’ phonetically
written in Icelandic.” He stops when
I ask where he got this name from.
“To tell you the truth, I can’t even re-
member anymore. I think I was really
drunk.”
Although Atli started rapping back in
1998, he waited until 2013 to begin ac-
tively participating in the scene. After
drawing much notice and acclaim for
his work with fellow rappers like Úl-
fur Úlfur and Lord Pu$$whip, Kött is
currently working on assembling his
first album—which he aims to finish
by springtime—alongside collaborat-
ing with acts like Sin Fang.
“The hip-hop scene is in really good
form these days,” Atli says. “There’s
been an explosion.” He names artists
like GKR and Vaginaboys as personal
favourites.
“I’m sort of an old freak,” he tells me.
“During Airwaves, somebody asked
me about my lyrics, so I started going
over them systematically. Apparently,
eating and fucking politicians is re-
ally an ongoing theme with me,” he
laughs. “That’s the gist of it.”
GKR
Members:
Gaukur
Listen to:
“Morgunmatur”
youtube.com/user/GKROFFICIAL
“Morgunmatur” (“Breakfast”) is
the title of GKR’s most recent single,
which is proving to be a breakthrough
hit for the young rapper. “The hook is
about breakfast,” he tells me, “but the
track is really about being yourself
and doing what you love to do, instead
of waking up for something that you
don’t want your future to be.” The
song feels positive and light-hearted,
GKR rhyming over its singsong-y
melody with his characteristically
boyish twinge. The music video
shows the bleach-blonde rapper tra-
versing a colourful wonderland of yel-
low buses and swimming pools. “Yes,
I do all my videos on my own,” he ad-
mits when asked about them. “Like
‘One,’ I shot that on Photobooth, and
for ‘Ballin,’ most of the shots were
me either shooting the video in selfie
mode or holding the camera.”
Gaukur’s pseudonym, GKR, is sur-
prisingly enough derived from Coun-
ter-Strike. “I started chatting with
this guy, an Icelander, and I noticed
that his username was a short version
of his name. So I was like, ‘How is it for
Gaukur?’—and then I was like, GKR!”
He starts to laugh. “So really, it all just
comes back to Counter-Strike.”
He’s excited about the future of the
Icelandic rap scene, he tells me. When
I ask him to name some favourites
from the scene, he’s quick to respond:
“Lord Pu$$whip,” he says without
hesitation. “You’ve heard him, right?”
Shades
of Reyk-
javík
Members:
Prins Puffin,
Elli Grill, HBridde,
emmiBeats,
Geimgengill,
Lunarscape
Listen to:
”Drusla”

facebook.com/shadesofreykjavik
“We have really dark humour here
in Iceland,” Shades of Reykjavík’s
Prins Puffin tells me. “So I thought it
was more real to do something with
dark humour than, you know, rap-
ping about how I’m super hardcore or
something,” he laughs. “We live on a
small island. Being a gangster here is
not gangster, you know?”
There is an irony to Shades of Reyk-
javík’s lyrics that is often lost on
foreigners. With melodic beats and
crazy music videos, you never know
crease in motor skills, empty-eyes and
drooling. Pot Licker is ‘that guy’—the
original lightweight.
“I was drinking and saw some people
smoking,” says Pot Licker, “so I de-
cided, sure, why not? Cannabis and
me don’t mix, though. I get stupid. I
can’t understand what people are say-
ing. That time, I smoked so much that
my hand stopped working. I tried to
order a beer at the bar, and when the
bartender gave it to me, I immediately
dropped it. The bartender was a bit
pissed off, but he took pity and poured
me another. I immediately dropped
that one, too. After that he was furi-
ous. I wandered around the bar for an
hour, maybe two. When I came back I
ordered a double Jim Beam and Coke—
to catch up, you know? Of course, I
immediately dropped it, and that was
enough—I got tossed out of the bar.”
Let that be a lesson: DON’T GET TOO
HIGH AT THE BAR. IT’S WEIRD.
DECEMBER 17
On the fifth night of Christmas, it’s
time for Askasleikir—the Bowl Licker.
This particular spirit inhabits a slight-
ly unusual member of the Hip-Hop
Lads—one that’s more likely to be en-
joyed by both young people and their
parents. But the thing is, you don’t find
many bowls around during a night
downtown. To make up for it, the Bowl
Licker has started stealing bottles in-
stead. A dangerous game to play, un-
less no one would ever suspect you.
“I was once at a pre-party for this
very arty-farty thing at Tjarnabíó,”
says Askasleikir. “The next thing I
knew, I was drunk. Really drunk. I
noticed there was this other person
hanging out behind the bar, with the
bartenders always asking him to stay
on the correct side. After a while, I
noticed that no one was looking, and
walked behind the bar to grab a bottle
of rum. It was that drunk overconfi-
dence that did it, you know. I was even
pouring out drinks for other guests,
before I left to pass out at home. At the
end of the night, I’d gotten lucky—ev-
eryone had assumed the culprit was
the other guy who kept going behind
the bar.”
Let this be a lesson: STAY ON YOUR
SIDE OF THE BAR!
DECEMBER 18
On the sixth night of Christmas,
Hurðaskellir, a.k.a. the Door Slam-
mer, comes to town. He used to slam
doors to make noise and keep every-
one awake, but now when he’s down-
town he slams doors to keep people
intrigued. We’ve all seen two people
enter a single bathroom stall, and
wondered what they’re doing in there,
right? Hurðaskellir likes to slam doors
in the faces of curious drinkers and
suspicious bouncers so that people
can take their drugs in peace. But, in
the end, everyone will know what you
did—he’ll make sure of it.
“I went in the downstairs bathroom
of Prikið with a guy I was drinking
with to take some E,” says Hurðaskel-
lir. “Well—we were told it was ecstasy.
We turned on the tap to wash them
down, but a bouncer rushed into the
bathroom to bust us. I quickly hid the
pills, told him we were just getting
some water, and slammed the door in
his face. We laughed and joked after-
wards—we couldn’t believe we’d got-
ten away with it. We took the pills, and
turned around to see we’d forgotten to
turn off the tap, and the sink was over-
flowing, with water streaming under
the door and out onto the dance floor.
All eyes were on us when we came out.
Every single person knew what we’d
been up to.”
Let this be a lesson: DON’T DO DRUGS
AT THE BAR. EVERYONE KNOWS
WHAT YOU’RE DOING.
DECEMBER 19
On the seventh day of Christmas,
you’ll meet Skyrgámur, Skyr Gobbler.
Skyr is like Icelandic yogurt with-
out the probiotics: it’s basically pure
protein. It was essential for nutrients
and energy back in the old days before
Bónus started bringing us rotten veg-
etables from Denmark. Skyr Gobbler
needs energy—that’s why he always
tries to steal the skyr. He possessed
this hip-hop lad and made him turn to
crime for his energy fix.
“I was addicted to CULT energy
drinks,” says Skyrgámur, “so I would
wear football socks underneath my
baggy jeans and stuff cans into them
at 10-11. I was pretty sneaky. I knew I
couldn’t keep doing it, but I just loved
those energy drinks so much. One
time, I came into 10-11 late at night,
a little drunk. I started waving a 500
ISK note in the air so they wouldn’t
suspect I was stealing, acting like I
was there to buy phone credit. A good
cover, I thought, but just as I was plac-
ing a second can in my other sock, the
security guard grabbed me.”
Let this be a lesson: DON’T GET
DRUNK AND STEAL FROM 10-11.
DECEMBER 20
On the eighth day of Christmas, watch
out for Bjúgnakrækir the Sausage