Reykjavík Grapevine - 06.01.2017, Síða 27

Samaris —
'Black Lights'
Track By Track
'Black Lights'
Words JÓFRÍÐUR ÁKADÓTTIR
Wanted 2 Say
Oh, what a tune! I remember the day
Doddi sent this one to me. I immedi-
ately recorded demo vocals and kept
humming the “wanted to say” line…
when it came to writing the lyrics, I
couldn’t get it out of my head, so we
decided to stick with it. It’s a mixture
of wanting to protect, preserve and
appreciate nature, and joking about
singing in English, and singing like
Björk.
Black Lights
The working title for this one was
“Nofríður” for a long time, because I
wasn’t in the studio when the beat and
chords were laid down, and the guys
replaced vocals with Doddi singing
into a vocoder. We were so obsessed
with the chords we would listen to it
on a loop for hours. That’s why it’s still
six minutes… the first version was ac-
tually about twenty.
Gradient Sky
This is the most sensual track of the
album. It’s an unusual mantra—it’s
structured as if you’re desperately
holding onto something you can’t stop
repeating. But all things change, like a
gradient sky.
T3MPO
This is one of those remix back-and-
forth songs. We’d made something,
recorded something, and the next
thing you know, Doddi had completely
changed it! I think, for me, “T3MPO” is
our ultimate 90s anthem… a tribute to
a musical era we more or less missed.
I Will
When we started making this album
we went to Berlin, rented an Airbnb
flat and borrowed some speakers
from a friend. We wrote a bunch of
songs there, none of which made it to
the album—except for a high-pitched
sample of my voice crying “I WILL” in a
very dramatic way. That became the
core element of this song.
R4VIN
One of my favourites from the album.
I’m a sucker for long, complicated and
busy melodies. I had to fight, and com-
promise a bit, to keep it in. The lyrics
are this beautiful and pointless high—
like, you can just listen and decide for
yourself, but it’s inspired by how I felt
living in Reykjavík that summer. Every-
one was so high up in the sky.
3y3
This one was mostly composed by
Doddi. He did such a beautiful job.
When he showed us the demo, we
loved it, but we had a hard time figur-
ing out how we could add something
to it. In the end, it was more or less
some whispering, written and record-
ed in the last recording session with
Oculus in December.
T4ngled
This is one for the girls! We had been
listening to so much RnB in the car
when we were touring the year before,
we had to have a go at making our own
tribute. The melodies were all played
live in Hljódriti and we got some help
from the super-talented producer An-
dri Dagur from Gervisykur.
In Deep
This is one of Doddi’s remixes. I think
we’re just gonna make tracks like this
in the future. Dancefloor stuff! All the
clarinets were recorded in the stair-
case. It just sounded better somehow.
Don’t listen to what people tell you
about the best mic in the room or pre-
amp or whatever. They create a sys-
tem to rely on so they don’t have to be
creative and spontaneous. Have fun,
and trust your guts! Cool is only ever
what you say it is!
WHY THEY WON
First, the title track of “Black Lights”
was nominated as song of the year.
Then so was “Wanted 2 Say.” Then
“R4ven.” And then it hit us. It’s just
an all-around good album.
Moving on from 2014’s ‘Silkidran-
gar’, Samaris have advanced to a
new level. “They’ve really stepped
up their sound,” one panelist said.
“They’re singing in English and
Doddi’s production is fucking stun-
ning—they’re just more present.”
The panel went on talking about the
production on this album, suggest-
ing a reach into “James Blake ter-
ritory.” The panel noted that even
though the three band members
were living in three different coun-
tries while the album was coming
together, they managed to make it
completely cohesive. “It’s not just a
collection of singles but something
that makes sense,” one panellist
says. “It kind of reminds me of how
a concept album works. I’m a sucker
for concept albums.”
From Behind The
Godhead Of The
Synth Stack
HATARI is 2016's
Best Live Band
Words HANNAH JANE COHEN
HATARI has one song on the internet.
That’s right, one song. Yet, the band
has taken the underground scene of
Reykjavík by storm. This one song—
‘Ódýr’—was played through shitty
MacBook speakers at both the pre-
game I was at for Halloween as well
as the afterparty. Since, I’ve heard it
blasted by all types: goths, black metal
fans, techno-heads, even a few cool
hipsters. That’s how versatile their
music is. This isn't your average, uh,
cybergoth-thing-act.
The band is the lovechild of Kl-
emens Hannigan, Matthías Tryg-
gvi Haraldson, and Einar Stéfansson.
This year they played five shows before
their domination at Airwaves: once in
Reykjavík, then Eistnaflug, then Lun-
gA Festival and finally Norðanpaunk.
That’s right. Our best live band only
started playing live this year.
If you’ve never seen them live, the
whole thing is a bit Bioshock. They
wear steampunk outfits and com-
mand a sort of ritual-esque atmo-
sphere. But with each twisted, bitter
scream, HATARI spews digital fire
and brimstone unto their audience;
an apocalyptic cavalcade of fragment-
ed beats twixt with broken, blazing
horns. This dark outfit doesn’t just
catch attention—they commanded
it, ripping each and every solipsistic
spider from the blackest corners of
the soul. This may not be a band you
would listen to at home—for obvious
reasons—but from behind the godhead
of the synth stack, shrouded in red, pix-
elated mist, HATARI call for blood and
we’re more than happy to oblige.
An 8-bit shadow springs forth from
the ashes of 2016 in small, square
shades, a crew cut, and an overcoat,
bellowing each syllable in a brood-
ing baritone. Each set is a nihilistic
Nuremburg rally, a charge into the
millennial void, and you are given
no choice but to follow them into
the dust. If you can find them, that
is—their brutality is matched only
by their mystery. Erratic performers
they might be, these shady, anony-
mous canaries are conspiring to bomb
the coalmine this year—we hope this
award will appease them before they
take the rest of us down with them.
27The Reykjavík GrapevineIssue 17 — 2016