Reykjavík Grapevine - 08.09.2017, Side 29

take it very seriously. But after I
started studying musical composi-
tion at the Iceland Academy of the
Arts, I got the courage to do more
stuff by myself, and leave the safety
of a band. I put the effort in, finding
my own soundscape. I didn’t play
for anyone else, just myself.”
A stew of noise
During her studies, she gradually
made the instrument the focus of
her compositions, sometimes play-
ing dueling theremins with her
teacher, Jesper Pedersen. “I think
there’s rising interest in the instru-
ment, and a lot going on in the world
of theremin,” Hekla jokes. “Maybe
it’s because the instrument has so
much left unexplored. And playing
it, playing the air—the concentra-
tion involved. Each and every hair
on the body has to remain still. You
need to watch your breathing and
be self-aware, almost in stasis.”
This goes for live performances
as well, especially with a band like
Bárujárn. “The people around you
have to be still as well,” she adds. “If
you’re playing a concert and some-
body swings a guitar past you, it can
mess things up. It was hard at the
old Bar 11, playing surf rock with a
mosh pit around me, but I just had
to run with it. If you’re nervous and
start shaking, it doesn’t make for
nice vibrato.”
As a solo artist, Hekla has re-
leased two “mini-albums,” both
available on her Bandcamp. Her up-
coming album has been a long time
in the works. She promises a couple
of singles this autumn, with the al-
bum to follow, in what she says will
be an exploration of what the ther-
emin can offer—everything from
classical to abstract noise. “I wanted
to keep it separate, have one noise
project, and another one with vo-
cals,” she explains. “But it all came
together in a big stew and I think it
has a good flow to it. My last album
was more abstract than the first
one, which had more identifiable
melodies. On the new one, I’ll in-
clude more vocals and mix my own
voice with theremin choirs, boiling
it together.”
She tends to test her new mu-
sic live, including a looped version
of the classic hymn ‘Heyr himna
smiður,’ which has a tricky four-
part harmony. “It was my impos-
sible project, getting all the voices
to sync,” Hekla admits. “It came
together at my last
concert. I’ve been
moving away from
having pre-recorded
stuff; I try to create
everything in front of the audience.
It’s fun to get rid of the computer,
but also a little shaky, like if I’m
trying to loop a theremin part and
make a little mistake, I can mess up
the harmony and then I slowly die
inside.”
Sound, then vision
On Hekla’s website there’s set of
cryptic drawings that almost re-
sembles some ancient calligraphy.
These graphic notations are Hekla’s
visualisation of her art, as it looks
when she’s playing. “I sometimes
doodle like this when I’m impro-
vising,” she explains. “I decided to
make a little book which fits on top
of the theremin.” You can download
it and try yourself—the doodles are
open to interpretation. “I’d love to do
more versions of ambiguous ther-
emin sheet music,” she continues.
“It’s perfect for the theremin to have
graphic notation, because it’s like
you’re drawing on air.”
Hekla’s music will soon be given
further visual expression in the
soundtrack of a new French film,
directed by Bertrand Mandico.
‘Les Garçons Sauvages’ (‘The Wild
Boys’), premieres at the Venice In-
ternational Film Critics Week. It’s
the story of five adolescents on the
island of La Réunion who commit
a vicious crime. Hekla was asked to
create the score, along with Pierre
Desprats, after meeting the direc-
tor in Iceland, where he was filming
material for one of his short films.
“The members of Bárujárn were
supposed to be extras in the short
film,” she says. “We drove out to the
countryside and he took one glance
at us and said no. He didn’t like the
look of us at all! I guess we looked
shady. Later, after he checked out
music I had sent him, he asked me
to do this. I’ve been sending him a
crazy amount of music to work with
and the film has been a long time
coming. I’m very excited.”
Since moving to Berlin last No-
vember with her husband and their
newborn son, Hekla has worked as
a session musician and theremin
teacher, in addition to performing
live with compatriot Indriði, and re-
cording for her own and Bárujárn’s
albums. “We wanted to be some-
where that’s like, a hundred thou-
sand times cheaper than Iceland,”
she jokes. “We can make ends meet,
the weather’s nice, the beer is cheap.
You can do things without all your
money going towards rent.”
That’s about as personal as our
chat gets, as she mainly prefers to
touch on the subject of her music,
which ironically is created without
touch. She describes how she can
spend hours improvising and re-
cording. “After that, I sit by the com-
puter long into the
night, finding the
details, modulating
the sound,” Hekla
concludes. “People
know the classical and sci-fi type
sounds of the theremin, how it’s
used as a gimmick. But there are so
many possibilities. It offers things
that people have yet to discover.”
29The Reykjavík GrapevineIssue 16 — 2017
“Training
the ears is
the most
important
thing,
because
there’s
nothing
physical to
touch”
“If you’re
nervous
and start
shaking,
it doesn’t
make
for nice
vibrato.”
gpv.is/culture
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