Reykjavík Grapevine - 12.12.2016, Side 30

The R
eykjavík G
rapevine
Iceland A
irw
aves Special 20
16
30
Whether you’re a musician or
a festivalgoer, Airwaves is a
messy week for all involved.
Thursday is the second night of
the festival proper, but if you’re
anything like the dedicated
Reykvíkingar in attendance, it
could be your fourth night on
the go. So whether you’re look-
ing for an oasis in the chaos, or
you just fancy a nice sit-down,
Airwords could end up being the
highlight of your festival.
The desire for a l iterary
showcase during Airwaves first
manifested itself in the form
of an off-venue “poetry jam
session” run by local publisher
Meðgönguljóð (Partus Press),
which paired up local poets
with musicians. The experi-
ment worked—today, Airwords
is an annual fixture of Harpa’s
Kaldalón stage that combines
performance poetry, music, and
“readings from the cutting edge
of Icelandic literature,” explains
Andri Snær Magnason, leading
contemporary author, former
presidential candidate, and
founder of Airwords.
“I was abroad during Air-
waves one year,” he explains,
“and thought it was a shame
to be travelling at a time when
all these people had flown to
Iceland because of the culture.
Music and poetry have always
been intertwined here in Ice-
land. There is music in words—
and over the years, we’ve found
that people are in the mood for
a different kind of concentra-
tion. The event has fit better
into the music festival than I
ever imagined.”
Single
jackass
This year, electronic “word-
based” musicians such as Ton-
ik Ensemble, einarIndra, Coals,
and Amnesia Scanner take to
the stage alongside poets Ásta
Fanney, Eiríkur Örn Norðdahl,
and Bubbi Morthens—a mu-
sician who’s soundtracked the
last 35 years of Iceland’s history,
and is now turning his talents
towards poetry.
One name on the lineup
stands out in particular, how-
ever. Crispin Best (pictured),
whom VICE referred to as “Lon-
don’s most original and oddest
poet” is an upcoming artist—
and a total Airwaves newbie.
“One of the worst problems
of literary events is the ‘hos-
tage situation’ feel of the whole
thing,” says Crispin, bluntly.
“Everyone is stiff and quiet,
nobody is allowed to leave, and
a single jackass is in control of
everyone’s experience. I think
writers reading at music festi-
vals are way more aware and en-
gaged with this idea, and tend to
put the audience at the centre of
the experience more. The whole
festival experience necessarily
punctures egos a bit—in a great
way—and the performers are
usually in the same messy state
as the audience, so everything
tends to be a bit warmer round
the edges.”
Dusty
white dudes
Crispin is arriving at Airwaves
on the back of touring a po-
etry collection published by
Faber earlier this year, which
was well-received by excited,
open-minded audiences. It also
led to public threats in a nation-
al newspaper from “a few old
dusty white dudes.” So is this
year’s experimental line-up in-
dicative of a wider trend in po-
etry? “I don’t think poetry as a
‘whole’ is particularly becoming
experimental,” says Crispin.
“It’s always fussing at the vari-
ous edges of itself. I do think at
the moment it’s expanding in
a lot of different directions at
once, so there are more trails of
breadcrumbs leading away from
the middle ground. It’s misera-
ble there.”
So what can we look forward
to from his set this year? “In
terms of my set, I always try to
read at least one thing that’s
pretty new, so expect a huge ex-
clusive that is also completely
unfinished. I’ll probably only
finalise what I’m going to read
about a couple of minutes before
I start. A good thing about being
on your own is that you can re-
act instantly to what mood the
room seems to be in, and what
people are enjoying… or not.”
Airwords is at Harpa on Nov 3.
Words Ciarán Daly
“One of the worst problems
of literary events is the ‘hostage
situation’ feel of the whole thing.”
Are you safe to enter Airwords?