Reykjavík Grapevine - 08.01.2016, Side 15

In the video for “Brennum allt,”
Úlfur Úlfur duo Arnar Freyr and
Helgi Sæmundur roll through the
suburbs of Reykjavik, spitting
rapid-fire lyrics on horseback
and chilling in the countryside
like a champs. (Meanwhile guest
emcee Kött Grá Pje chills with
three oversized Saint Bernards
and visits a dog show, because
why not?) Coupled with the
song’s opening salvo, a line that
roughly translates to “I’m alone
in the world,” it might be easy to
assign the single a glass-half full
optimism, making it a tribute to
sticking it to the man, or perhaps
a musical encouragement to let
one’s freak flag fly.
Not quite.

“The [opening] lyric is one of the oldest
ones on the album, written more then
three years ago,” explains Arnar. “I re-
member the day. I got up on the wrong
side of the bed, mad at everyone, myself
included, disgusted with consumerism
and individualism. ‘The rat race,’ if you
will. Then I went to the gym to let out
some steam and wrote the lyric on my
phone between sets.”
It’s a matter-of-fact, slow-burning
“us against them” mentality that’s car-
ried the band along in their career so far.
Although they’ve been writing together
for over a decade—by their count, thir-
teen years on five separate projects—
‘Tvær plánetur’ (released in 2015) is the
duo’s first official full-length. It’s not an
accident they reference the idea of meet-
ing in orbit. To hear Arnar tell it, that’s
exactly what happened.
“We don’t take ourselves too seri-
ously but I think Úlfur Úlfur was our
attempt to make serious art for the first
time, rather than just ‘do something’ like
the years before,” he notes of the pro-
tracted gestation time.

Nördic Deåth Röw
The album is heavy with bass and drum,
featuring melodic washes of guitar and
vocals. Even though they wouldn’t be
completely out of place on Death Row’s
roster (or at least on a Nordic arm of the
iconic label), it also features rich melo-
dies and intricate beats, as though Úlfur
Úlfur are bound and determine to push
the sides of the rap box out just a bit far-
ther—or blow them out completely.
That new-school/old-school vibe,
says Arnar, can be traced back to his ear-
liest days as a hip-hop fan. Never mind
the fact Iceland doesn’t exactly boast
a booming gangster population—and
if there’s any sort of East Coast/West
Coast rivalry the players are mum on the
matter. The MC’s relationship with 2Pac
and Snoop Dogg began early. (“I started
listening to it as a kid for the simple rea-
son that is was the coolest thing I had
ever experienced,” he notes. “It still is!”)
And sure, he even identified with them
back in the days when he was a burgeon-
ing big fish in a pond of some 2,500 in-
habitants, the village of Sauðárkrókur.
But not exactly in the way one might expect.
“Being cool and expressing yourself
is international so it never hindered me
that I was just a country boy in North-
ern Iceland,” Arnar reveals. “My ‘dif-
ference’ was the need to make some
kind of art no matter what. I wanted
to write and draw, make some mother-
fucking music; I wanted to express my-
self. Sauðárkrókur is a small town and I
felt there was little foundation for a guy
like me. Not much support, but that just
made everything I did more punk and
I liked that. Punk is good. Today I still
struggle with this, though, the voice
within me that tells me I’m different
like it’s a bad thing, that I need to grow
up and start behaving. Fuck that shit!
Being different, having an explicit iden-
tity, is the best thing ever and the mental
struggle just makes it more satisfying.”

Pissing off conservative national-
ists is always fun
Arnar makes it clear that his music isn’t
born of an attempt to ape influences.
He can only rep himself—as if it wasn’t
100% clear by the fact Úlfur Úlfur rap
exclusively in Icelandic. He handles the
obvious question (why?) with character-
istic grace. After all, it might still be an
important aspect to ask about, but it’s
one that has to be addressed less and less
these days.
“It has gradually increased, thank-
fully,” he says, noting that there are
plenty of hip-hop acts busy reclaiming
the national language. “Icelandic is stiff
and most words are longer than their
counterparts in English. Being able to
bend the language opens new dimen-
sions, really, and it pisses off conserva-
tive nationalists, which is always fun.”
He jokes about the “sprinkle of de-
pression” that comes with Icelandic life,
a sentiment that anyone who has sur-
vived a Nordic winter is likely to agree
with. Much of the band’s music is in-
credibly expository regarding this topic.
(“‘Tvær plánetur’ was very personal, so
personal that we actually thought that
it would be ‘too much,’ he notes. “But
in retrospect it was one of its biggest
strengths.”) But overall, Arnar describes
himself as content.

A million dollars and a yacht
Really content, to be correct. He’s just
finished a business degree from Uni-
versity of Ice-
land. The group
has forged
ahead writ-
ing new songs.
(He obliquely
mentions that
they have “big
goals for the
New Year” but
declines to say
more on the top-
ic.) To quote one
of Úlfur Úlfur’s
own heavily
translated lines,
“I don’t want for
anything.”
“I’m a meek
man, happy
with what I got,”
he confirms.
“I feel like I’ve
worked hard in
the past, and be-
ing where I am
today is great.
Of course I want
more, I’m still
h u n g r y— t h a t
is what drives
me, but yeah,
I don’t really
lack anything
even though I
wouldn’t turn
down a mil-
lion dollars and
a yacht. You
know, the dif-
ference between
needs and
wants.”
Thoughtful? Well, of course. At that
observation, Arnar veers slightly off
course, lest one get
the idea that Úl-
fur Úlfur is strictly
about taking a
swim in the deepest
philosophical wells.
He points to the
hook of their tune
“Tarantúlur,” as
proof that he and his
bandmate are more
than adept at letting
their hair down.
After all, not every-
thing in life has to be
a metaphor.

“Wolf wolf ta-
r a n t u l a / F l i e s
like skimming
t o n g u e s / y o u
and I and the
full moon, just
lie and hugging,
well-baked and
soft.”

“It’s a perfect exam-
ple of saying some-
thing for the simple
fact that it’s cool and
it rhymes,” he says
of the hook (which
indeed rhymes in
Icelandic). “But it
inevitably paints a
big picture in the
mind of the listener,
wolves and tarantu-
las, somehow com-
bined in one gro-
tesque animal.”
At this, Arnar
laughs.
“Holy shit! That’s me.”
Enter The Wolf
Tarantulas
ULfur Ulfur are
BAND Of THE YEAR
By Laura Studarus
[*****]
Band of the Year:
Úlfur Úlfur
Surprisingly to some, Icelandic hip-
hop totally dominated local airwaves,
venues and charts in 2015—hell,
as well as the radio airwaves, those
rappers even claimed ownership of
the Iceland Airwaves festival, which
would have been unthinkable only
a couple of years ago. The reason is
clear though: all those years spent on
the fringes granted Iceland’s hip hop
scene time and freedom to expand,
experiment and exercise—to care-
fully hone their skills to perfection,
reaching a new plateau.
As the scene blew up, it
quickly became clear that among
many great contenders, Úlfur Úlfur
had established themselves as its
main ambassadors to mainstream
Iceland. While Gísli Pálmi has the most
dedicated following, and Emmsjé Gau-
ti gives the best live performances,
Úlfur Úlfur are the Icelandic hip hop
act that Icelanders best connect with,
managing to entice even the most
whitebread, U2-loving, Manchester
United-supporting, Independence
Party-voting listeners.
And 2015 was certainly their
year. They released a best-selling,
chart topping début, ‘Tvær Plánetur’,
played a number of huge shows, and
were universally admired across dif-
ferent sections of the population. As
one of our panellists put it: “They’re
impossible not to love. Both my moth-
er and my five year old son constantly
play their record. Even [AOR-MOR
station] Bylgjan plays their record.”
The panel concurred: “Úlfur
Úlfur’s skills, attitude, stage pres-
ence and songwriting are all top
grade. Their frequently viral music
videos are stylish and tasteful, and
their sound came to define the year
to a large extent, reaching a surpris-
ingly wide audience”.
2014: Prins Póló
Band of the Year
“We don’t take ourselves
too seriously but I think
Úlfur Úlfur was our at-
tempt to make serious art
for the first time, rather
than just ‘do something’
like the years before.”
“I wanted to write and
draw, make some moth-
erfucking music; I wanted
to express myself.”