Reykjavík Grapevine - 04.12.2015, Blaðsíða 17

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
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