Reykjavík Grapevine - 02.02.2018, Blaðsíða 24

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Mammút glance at each other in sur-
prise, in a rare moment of silence. 2018
marks their 15th anniversary of being
a band—a fact that they’d forgotten,
swept up in the familiar process of
writing, recording, touring, and just
being Mammút. “We forgot our tenth
anniversary, too,” laughs bassist Ása
Dýradóttir. “We didn’t do anything!”
Their fifteen years together have
clearly made the members of Mam-
mút very close. Asked what the band
would be like if it was a fifteen-year-
old teenager, they laugh uproariously,
talking over each other and habitually
finishing each other’s sentences. “It
would be drinking a lot of beer, vap-
ing instead of smoking… and prob-
ably in a mental institution,” says vo-
calist Katrína “Kata” Mogensen. Ása
adds: “It would be so troubled. But
this isn’t really a band anymore—it’s
what you do with your life. It’s a part
of you. You don’t really notice it.”
“I’m about to be a father,” says gui-
tarist Arnar Pétursson. “And it’s going
to be ‘the Mammút baby.’” Alexandra
Baldursdóttir, also a guitarist, adds: “I
was even thinking of baby names the
other day, as if it were the title for an
album. Like, ‘what should we name
this piece we are making together?’”
“ T h e b o u n d a r i e s b e t w e e n
us have just moulded togeth-
er over the years,” smiles Kata.
“They’re hardly there, any more.”
Winning
Mammút first formed
in 2003, when the vari-
o u s m e m b e r s w e r e
aged between 13 and 15,
meaning that, alongside
the fifteenth birthday,
they’ve been in the band
for around half of their
lives. “That’s true,” says
Ása, thoughtfully. “The
more you talk about it,
the stranger it gets.”
They first played to-
gether spontaneously,
when Kata entered a
singing contest. She
needed a backing band
and brought the group
together for the occa-
sion. “We met there,
shook hands and said
“Hi, nice to meet you,”
and then we were on-
stage to play “Over”
by Portishead,” says Arnar. “We won
the competition. And then, two
months later, we won Músiktilraunír.
And there was no looking back.”
Alt-kids
Being in the band quickly became an
identity in a social landscape that was
more sports-oriented than cultural.
“There was a very specific space open in
our school to be ‘those kind of kids,’ and
we dived into it,” says Kata. “The girls
were listening to Black Sabbath and
Sex Pistols and Nirvana, and we formed
the band, started smoking and drink-
ing. It was a way to fight boredom.”
For the two boys in the band—Ar-
nar, and drummer Andri Bjartur Jako-
bsson, who can’t make our interview—
the partying came later. “I remember
one night in NASA. Krummi from Mí-
nus—the one and only—was there,”
laughs Kata. “It was of the first times
Andri had a few drinks. He walked up to
Krummi and started grabbing his tie,
or something. I just remember the way
this extremely cool Krummi looked at
him. We were like: ‘We can’t watch this.’”
After their Músiktilraunír win, the
band often played live several times a
week, also working towards their debut
album. It came out in 2006—also the
year that Ása joined the band. The al-
bum did well in Iceland, and their sec-
ond, ‘Karkari’, followed in 2008. “That
was a big step for us,” says Kata. “It
was a radio hit in Iceland. We became
a pop band in Iceland. We were play-
ing at Sodoma almost every weekend,
at 2 a.m. on Friday or Saturday night.”
Kinder sister
Riding the wave of their homeland suc-
cess, Mammút toured Europe twice
over the following years but went on
a songwriting hiatus. “We were feel-
ing creatively exhausted,” says Kata.
“Life just took over.” Ása
continues: “We thought
about quitting. But then,
we’ve done that with each
album—but just never
did.” Arnar laughs, add-
ing: “And we never will!”
It wasn’t until 2013
that their third LP, the
‘Komdu til mín svarta
systir’ (‘Come to me, dark
sister’) would be released,
going on to win the ‘Best
Album’ and ‘Best Song’
(for “Salt”) at the Ice-
landic Music Awards.
Fraught process
Recording it was a diffi-
cult journey. “It’s some-
thing we’ve gotten used
to now,” says Arnar.
“This creative process
of thinking everything is
shit, and then maybe it’s okay, and then
thinking it’s great and being proud of it.
If you don’t have that phase, you prob-
Words:
John Rogers
Photos:
Timotheé
Lambrecq
gpv.is/culture
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“The
boundaries
between us
have just
moulded
together
over the
years.
They’re
hardly there,
any more.”
Hard-touring, hard-partying rock 'n' roll kids Mammút, yesterday
The Saga Of
Mammút
As they reach their fifteenth year,
Mammút are stronger than ever

Culture