Reykjavík Grapevine - 01.06.2018, Side 25

25The Reykjavík Grapevine
Issue 09 — 2018
cheesiness of country. But then his face
cracks and he breaks into that tonal
laugh. “No, right now there is a project
I am planning which is just an album of
songs, short songs with singers. A song
cycle, you know,” he stops. “Yes, that’s
not a genre in itself, but it’s different
from what I’ve done.”
This genre-bending career path was
never a conscious decision. “I am not
trying to, you know, tick the boxes,”
Daníel shrugs. “Having a musical life
that happens to be multi-faceted was
just how it turned out. And for me to
turn my back on collaborations or proj-
ects because I feel like I shouldn’t be
doing that, I don’t know who I would
be pleasing. I just do what feels natu-
ral.” Hence, his entry into the world of
opera.
In ‘Brothers’, Daníel proves once
again that he is a chameleon, deftly
managing to seamlessly meld his
signature tumultuous melancholy with
a new genre. But whether he’s doing
opera or a concerto or a collaboration
with Sigur Rós, Daníel is one of those
artists whose touch and mindset you
instinctively recognise. It’s visceral. He
deeply knows and trusts himself, and
that self-awareness and respect shines
through all of his compositions. In any
musical field, that’s a rare quality, but
there’s just something special about
Daníel. He’s got that x-factor.
Bach’s remote
island
That said, while Daníel is an especially
prolific genre-crosser, it’s true that
divisions have recently been blurring
in modern classical music. Minimal-
ist pioneer Philip Glass scored ‘The
Hours’ and collaborated with Aphex
Twin. Harpa recently screened ‘Lord
Of The Rings’ along with live accom-
paniment. Everyone from Rod Stew-
art to Meat Loaf to Metallica has made
albums backed by famous orchestras.
Daníel is clearly not alone. He’s part of
a revolution—a frontrunner in a musi-
cal Bastille Day tearing down the ivory
tower that has long surrounded classi-
cal music.
“I think it’s in many ways natural,”
Daníel says. “People who play in orches-
tras or write classical music, those who
have gone down that path, they didn’t
grow up on some remote island listen-
ing only to, you know, Bach preludes.”
He emphasises Bach preludes in a jokey
tongue-in-cheek manner, disrupting
his usual calm. It’s true though—you
can’t get more stereotypically classical
than Bach. “These are people who have
grown up in society. They are part of
culture,” he says. “Hey, they probably
do karaoke.”
It’s a thought-provoking—albeit
playful—sentiment. Classical musi-
cians are not immune from the barrage
of music everyone else encounters and
artists are the sum of their own experi-
ences. Daníel is upfront with the varied
mix that formed him. “I mean when I
was a kid, my Mom was an opera buff
and she listened to a lot of opera. I was
really crazy about Mozart. ‘The Magic
Flute’ and such,” he says. “But I listened
just as much to Michael Jackson and
Duran Duran. They were just as big
a part of my musical diet.” He notes,
with a grin, that he also does karaoke.
“I usually start with ‘Hello’ by Lionel
Richie, but karaoke is not something
you should plan, it’s more fun if you
just walk into it.”
Step by step
Within the context of Icelandic opera,
Daníel sees ‘Brothers’ as somewhat
of an anomaly. “Here in Iceland, they
don’t get a lot of chances to see modern
operas,” Daníel admits. Of course,
Harpa has an opera company, but they
only perform around two productions
a year. Moreover, Iceland doesn’t have
a big history with the genre. “‘Broth-
ers’ stands a little apart or alone,” he
says. “It’s a grand opera. There’s a full
orchestra, chorus, many singers, it’s
not something you could do with a
few people in a small venue.” This is
more reminiscent of current Icelandic
opera scene. “I hope it will clear the
path though, for others,” he says, “but
honestly, writing an opera is a crazy
thing to do.”
“It’s just crazy work,” Daníel contin-
ues, looking out the window while
shaking his head and grinning. It’s
clear he finds the whole concept in
some ways ludicrous. “You have to
secure at least one performance if
you’re going to do it. It takes a long
time. I underestimated it,” he says.
Daníel then begins to open up about
the immense stress he was under
during the writing process. It’s rare for
an artist to admit they felt rushed, but
Daníel is forthright about the fact that
he wishes he had half a year more to
create ‘Brothers’.
“It’s daunting, and it’s very daunt-
ing to take those first steps when you
know you have such a long way to go,”
he says. “The journey of one thousand
miles starts with one step. You have
to start by writing one note.” Then he
pauses, as the boisterous voice of a
male singer fills the hall—perhaps that
first note. “But it went well. I enjoyed
it,” he says, deservedly proud of his
accomplishment. “It would have been
nice to not have that stress though, but
that’s how it goes.”
Scary and
fascinating
The other massive difference between
working with orchestras or solo
performers versus creating a staged
show is the release of control to other
parties. While the composer writes the
music, the director decides the actions.
The art director sets the mood. The
head of lighting creates drama. The
singers choose the emphasis. The end
result can be quite different than what
the composer originally imagined.
“It’s scary but it’s also fascinating,”
Daníel says of that specific process.
“When you’re writing an opera, you’re
in a way directing it as well. You’re
laying out the whole psychological
structure of the piece, but then when
the director and singers come in, it
takes on its own life...” He’s inter-
rupted again by the male singer, this
time with a short melody. “It’s wonder-
ful actually. You start to see things you
hadn’t realised were there or could be
approached in a different way. There
are all sorts of sides of pieces that even
the composer doesn’t see. It’s a journey
of discovery.”
Finding the light
“In the future, I’d like to do something
a little less dark,” Daníel says calmly.
It’s as if he hasn’t thought about
another opera until this moment. “It’s
very hard to find a good opera subject,
but I’d like to do something that had
lighter, brighter colours in it.” Lighter
and brighter have never been words
you’d associate with Daníel’s composi-
tions, but as he’s proved time and time
again, he’s adaptable. He’ll find a way.
“People
who play in
orchestras
or write
classical
music,
those who
have gone
down that
path, they
didn’t
grow up
on some
remote
island
listening
only to,
you know,
Bach
preludes.”