Reykjavík Grapevine - 01.07.2016, Blaðsíða 46

A legendary document of 101 cool
in the pre-Inspired by Iceland era,
rockumentary ‘Rokk í Reykjavík’
(1982) captures the ascendancy of
a generation of young Icelanders
taking American and British in-
fluences for granted, and moving
beyond them to forge a pop culture
parallel to international trends,
while still authentically local.
The first feature-length film
by Friðrik Þór Friðriksson, ‘Rokk
í Reykjavík’ profiles the punk and
New Wave scene then emerging in
downtown’s dingy basement clubs,
and in semi-derelict old movie the-
atres and suburban dance halls.
There are interviews, in which
band members hold forth on issues
of the day—stagnant left-wing
politics; drugs; the DIY spirit—
but the film consists mostly of
performances, both live gigs and
full-band rehearsals for the cam-
era. ‘Rokk í Reykjavík’ was filmed
over the winter of ’81 and ’82 in
vacant industrial spaces converted
to practise studios; all-ages ven-
ues and sit-down nightclubs with
tablecloths on the tables; anar-
chist crash pads with soundproof-
ing egg crates on the ceilings and
Sharpie’d graffiti on the walls; and,
climactically, at Lækjartorg, on an
outdoor stage, where the crowd
wears leather and clothespins with
scarves and ski parkas, a look that
will be familiar anyone who’s seen
‘We Are the Best!’
An Armed Forces Radio DJ is
seen early in the film, spinning
Loverboy, and the shadow of post-
war rock ‘n’ roll, sent out from the
NATO base to the impressionable
citizens of Keflavík, still lingers via
some very Deep Purplish riffs from
the older bands. But the first-wave
punk vibe is far stronger, notably
in the Mark E. Smith-influenced
vocal contortions of Purrkur Pill-
nikk’s Einar Örn Benediktsson, the
future Sugarcubes cofounder and
Bad Taste Records tastemaker who
had already spent time in London,
making connections that would
lead to future opportunities as the
‘Rokk í Reykjavík’ generation came
of age and formed and reformed
new projects.
Bubbi Morthens, already a ris-
ing celebrity, sports leather pants
and studded wristband, mugging
through “Sieg Heil” and “Breyttir
Tímar” (“Changing Times”) with
his second band Egó, and slouching
suggestively as he holds forth in in-
terviews. Ragnhildur Gísladóttir’s
all-girl Grýlurnar are here as is the
Siouxsie sass of Q4U. Provocations
abound: performance-art act Bruni
BB decapitate live chickens with a
paper cutter until the cops show
up to turn on the lights; semi-
legendary Þeyr perform some
Ian Curtis fanfic, goose-stepping
around Bessastaðir in Nazi regalia
in time to their own jittery post-
punk. “Bjarni Mohawk,” the fif-
teen-year-old lead singer of Sjálfs-
fróun (“Masturbation”), attacks
his bass on stage with a hatchet,
and smokes in his interview, as he
holds forth on huffing and getting
hassled by bus drivers. (His scenes
were censored when the film aired
on state television.)
But the movie’s biggest star is
another teenager. Playing with
Tappi Tíkarrass, sixteen-year-old
Björk Guðmundsdóttir is dressed
up in a pinafore, with baby-doll
red cheeks and a lolly; she giggles
and playfully dances with her
bandmates—and then she starts
singing. Her voice is still a teen-
age girl’s voice, but also recogniz-
ably Björk’s—that howl of depth
and agency, a command to take
her whims seriously as innovation.
Though ‘Rokk í Reykjavík’ shows
Icelandic music’s continuity with
its past and future, it’s also the first
major showcase for a single already
fully-formed genius.
How to watch: Stream it at icelandic-
cinemaonline.com, or check your lo-
cal library.
SHARE: gpv.is/rir
Words MARK ASCH
"Provocations abound"
'Rokk í Reykjavík'
Movies Saga of Icelandic Cinema46
The Reykjavík Grapevine
Issue 9 — 2016
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