Reykjavík Grapevine - 10.11.2017, Blaðsíða 20

20 The Reykjavík Grapevine
Issue 20 — 2017
But for a while, it all went off the rails.
His debut solo album ‘Two Trains’ is
now out on the British label Erased
Tapes. The effort was six years in the
making, in large part due to com-
mitment to other projects and Hög-
ni’s struggles with mental illness.
Throughout the process, some bits of
the music would appear in live perfor-
mances, reminding us that the project
was chugging along.
Högni and I talk via video chat, as he
strolls through downtown Reykjavík on
a clear and crisp day. We touch on tech-
nological echo chambers, the thera-
peutic effects of 3-pointers, and getting
lost on Pleasure Island. With Högni,
there’s no small talk—only big ideas.
A wider
perspective
Thematically, the album is grounded in
the story of the two trains, Minør and Pi-
onér, that transported gravel and rocks
during the early 20th century construc-
tion of the Reykjavík harbour. The al-
bum was originally
conceived as a piece
for the 2011 Reyk-
javík Arts Festival,
and Högni and his
collaborator, lyricist
Atli Bollason, sought
to symbolise a new
era in Iceland—a re-
naissance, the ush-
ering in of moder-
nity. But the era of
locomotives in Ice-
land ended after the
harbour was com-
pleted and the two
trains now serve as
a reminder of grand
intentions.
“It was a turbu-
lent time in Europe
and Iceland felt like a
microcosm for these
trends,” Högni says.
“And the language of music was dissolv-
ing; all the rules and traditions changed.
You can sense societal changes in art and
culture. I didn’t
want to make just a
collection of music,
but to tell a sym-
bolic story.”
The next step
was to adapt the
piece into his first
solo album.Life,
however, had other
plans. Högni joined
GusGus and started
touring extensively.
Other projects got
in the way for ev-
eryone involved.
The main compli-
cation, however,
was Högni’s diag-
nosis with bipolar
disorder in 2012. A
manic episode in
the summer landed
him in a psychiatric
hospital and over
the following years
he had to come to
terms with a new
priority—staying
healthy. The mania
and depression be-
came the two trains
of thought that
Högni would for-
ever struggle to balance. This duality of
character is reflected in the album’s cover
art, created by longtime friend Sigurður
Oddsson from a photograph by Anna
Maggý.
When the album was finally complet-
ed, it had gone through major changes in
terms of subject matter and even includ-
ed a love song, ‘Moon Pitcher,’ written for
Högni’s fiancée, actress Snæfríður In-
gvarsdóttir. “When I described the album
to the British label, 5 or 6 years later, I
wasn’t sure that it was the same concept
as we originally thought,” Högni says.
“The lyrics had a wider perspective than
that. But the two trains remain as a met-
aphor for change and metamorphosis.”
Collective
paranoia
The album juxtaposes the historical
background with modern electronic
aesthetics. It features tracks performed
entirely by the men’s choir Fóstbræður
and others with club-adjacent beats by
GusGus founder President Bongo.
This mashing up of styles and influ-
ences somehow doesn’t feel as jarring
as one might expect. “It’s celebrating a
new era,” says Högni. “The album has
a renaissance quality; it’s baroque and
antique in many ways. Musically it har-
monizes the past with the progressive,
sound design driven, futuristic music
of present day.”
The long gestation period brought
new context to the themes that origi-
nally underpinned the album. Eco-
nomic, political and technological up-
heaval in recent years has changed the
way we function as a society. This time
is reminiscent of other such periods in
the past—eras of seismic transforma-
tion.
“You can feel something big go-
ing on,” says Högni. “This technologi-
cal revolution, turning into collective
paranoia. The machines, the gadgets,
the connectivity are becoming almost
oppressive. We’re on the verge of arti-
ficial intelligence automating jobs and
humans finding ways to stop the aging
process. Creating godlike features, like
eternal life. There will be an elite rul-
ing class, living forever, while every-
one else gets left behind. What are the
symbols of change today? What are the
trains?”
It’s an issue Högni is enthusias-
tic about, which ties into his political
views. Being friends with other artists
“They later di-
vorced and, who
knows, maybe it
was because they
couldn’t reconcile
jazz or classical.”
Everyone knows Högni Egilsson.
He’s a ubiquitous figure in Icelan-
dic culture. Coming up with in-
die darlings Hjaltalín, he made
himself known to both younger
and older generations. Later, with
electronic veterans GusGus, Hög-
ni endeared himself to the club
crowd. As a solo performer and
composer for theatre, he’s graced
TV screens and stages all over the
country. He’s a larger-than-life
figure in Icelandic society and a
gravitational presence wherever
he appears, always sporting fash-
ionable clothes, a warm smile and
his signature long blonde locks.