Reykjavík Grapevine - 02.06.2017, Qupperneq 40

Music
Indie-pop darlings
Prins Póló recently
released a video for
their new song “Ölkærastan” (“Beer
Girlfriend,” in English). It was made in
collaboration with prominent autistic
artist and director Ísak Óli, whose
paintings often feature Tintin as a
motif. “Ísak is an unique artist and
character, and his collaboration with
Margrét & Lee, who directed the video
with him, was beautiful,” said the
band, also describing it as “a great
honour and an unforgettable experi-
ence.” It’s an authentic collaboration,
and a good example we hope others in
the music industry will follow.
The rate at which Icelandic bands are
throwing out new tracks is accelerat-
ing as rapidly as Icelandic days are
lengthening. Pink Street Boys, the
self-styled bad boys of Icelandic punk,
put out a new song called “Wet,” with
a video that’s inexplicably about KFC;
they play live at Bar Ananas on August
2. Self-styled even-badder boys
Skrattar (they wear leather jackets,
and stay up late, you see) released
a seven-track album ‘Og Djöfullinn
Sjölfur’. The band features members of
Muck (RIP) and Fufanu, which should
give you some idea of what to expect.
Read their track-by-track guide on
page 37.
There was plenty going on in other
genres too. Jazz-rock collective ADHD
released their sixth studio album, the
ingeniously titled ‘6’, and announced
a spate of European tour dates. Fresh-
faced rap kid Smjörvi release a pine-
apple-heavy video for his new song
“Sætari Sætari,” and MAMMÚT dropped
a video for their latest single, “Breathe
Into Me.” Finally, Sin Fang, sóley and Ör-
var Smárason unveiled the latest track
in their monthly collaborative singles
series, entitled “Slowly.” It sounds like
a good album is forming there
MUSIC
NEWS
Gangly Blow Up
The anonymous rise of Iceland’s most
mysterious band
Words: Elías Þórsson Photo: Art Bicnick
Gangly
Four singles out now
“We want to be photographed in
the dark, don’t show our faces!”
exclaims one of the members of
Gangly, who, intentionally or not,
have taken the title of “Iceland’s
most mysterious band.” Their al-
most cloak-and-dagger approach
to publicity started with an email
sent to the media
with the subject
l ine “Fuck With
Someone El se,”
containing just a
link to a track of
the same name.
It took a whole
year for the secret
to get out. It turned
out that Gangly
was three famil-
iar faces—Ú lf ur
Alexander Einarsson of Oyama,
Sin Fang’s Sindri Már Sigfússon,
and Jófríður Ákadóttir of Samaris,
Pascal Pinon and JFDR. “We’re all
known for our other projects, and
people have these preconceived
notions of what we do,” explains
Sindri. “We wanted the music to
speak for itself.”
Their approach caught the at-
tention of the public, with plenty
of potential names being bandied
about. “It was pretty funny,” says
Jófríður. “People started compe-
titions to find out who we were.
Úlfur was even at parties where
people discussed who we might
be, but nobody thought to mention
him.”
Leather doves
It wasn’t just the mystery that
enthralled people—the track was
praised for its dark aesthetic and
melodic melodrama. And as Jó-
fríður explains, the name Gangly
is directly related to their dingy
sound. “The first song we made was
pretty emo, and we wanted some-
thing that would fit with that,” she
says. “After that it just stuck,” adds
Sindri. “It was either that, or Leather
Doves. Well, that was my suggestion.”
The project quickly took on a
life of its own, and began growing
organically. Three years later, the
band have still only released four
songs. “It’s kind of like slow beer,”
adds Úlfur. “Isn’t that a thing? The
longer time you spend on some-
thing, the better it gets.” Sindri
says that the project has benefit-
ted from the sedate pace, allowing
them to keep songs on the back
burner and return to them later
with fresh ears. “I
think it’s amazing,”
says Jófríður. “It ’s
the only project I’ve
worked on like it.”
The three agree
that Gangly helps
them to harness dif-
ferent parts of their
creativity than their
other projects. In
fact, the process
started when Úlfur
asked Sindri to produce a song
that didn’t fit his other bands. “I
see it as a way to create a home for
a kind of music that maybe doesn’t
fit elsewhere,” says Úlfur.
First contract
Last year, the band signed a con-
tract with AMF, a sub-label of
Universal. They returned from
their first international tour,
which took them across Europe.
And like their music, it was all
smooth sailing—almost. “It ’s
been the least problematic tour
I’ve ever been on,” says Sindri.
“We’re a drama-free band, even
though the music is dramatic. I
think we channel all our frustra-
tions into the music.”
“But we did miss the train
from London to Paris,” adds Úl-
fur. “Me and Sindri, that is. Jó-
fríður caught the train. She was
staying in another place, and
Sindri managed to fuck it up.”
Sindri laughs, finishing: “Over
the last ten years I’ve had a tour
manager telling me what to do,
and where to go, so I never had to
do much thinking. Thankfully,
Úlfur and Jófríður did most of
the thinking.”
Stepping into the limelight. Backwards. Slowly.
gpv.is/music
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“People start-
ed competi-
tions to find
out who we
were.”