Reykjavík Grapevine - 08.11.2019, Blaðsíða 16

Arguably, drone is the root form of
music; the first tonal noise, repeated.
What that means is that, in essence,
there are no key changes, just an ongo-
ing jam on top of a nice root key.
Drone was celebrated, in all its
perpetual glory, for the first time in
Húsavík in mid-October at the inau-
gural Arctic Drone Festival, organised
by Bar!i Jóhannsson of Bang Gang
fame. The line-up featured a mixture
of Icelandic and international artists,
headlined by Julianna Barwick, Nathan
Larson, Atli Örvarsson and Melissa Auf
der Maur.
Each act in the admittedly eccentric
lineup had their own take on the genre.
Most are not primarily known as drone
musicians, coming from backgrounds
as varied as stadium rock, indie, mov-
ie soundtracks and trip-hop. In fact,
those I spoke to at the festival didn’t
even have a lot to say about the drone
genre. To be honest, the consensus
was that calling it a genre proved dif-
ficult. It’s more of an ingredient than
a recipe.
24 hours of otherness
The goal of the inaugural edition of the
festival was clear: 24 hours non-stop
of drone music accompanied by yoga
sessions.
The space was, for lack of a better
term, unique. It was composed of a
large hall in a pretty nice hotel, with a
stage that was really just an island of
musical equipment flowing through-
out the room, surrounded by yoga mats
with pillows.
The question of the festival became,
“Did you sleep in the room yet?” It was
clear that as a stage dive is to a nor-
mal rock concert, the peak experience
of Arctic Drone was dozing off on the
mats in front of the stage.
The day was like a spiritual retreat,
yoga, or meditation of some sort, but
more free-flowing. No one adhered
to a program and experiences varied
widely. Some called it meditative and
soothing; others described the whole
thing as psychedelic. People ate when
they felt like it, had a couple of beers
at the bar when they desired, but it
was anything but a party. The vibe was
casual, but weird, and that strangeness
grew as the event progressed. It was
24-hours of otherness—that’s what
made it so special.
No host, no applause
The festival began with a collaboration
between Nathan, Melissa and Bar!i,
followed by a darkly jazzy drone out-
ing by bassist and composer Borgar
Magnason.
Every other hour, from 12:00 go
21:00, there was a yoga session. The
first one accompanied by the music
of Dísa Jakobs, who melded electronic
playback and gong in her set. The gongs
dominated the room, huge and impos-
ing, set up in a circle
The yoga was free-flowing. As the
event had no host, no intermissions,
and no applause, a
piece of paper on
the wall told you
when each set and
event was happen-
ing, but seemingly
everything actu-
ally started and
stopped randomly.
Following Dísa
was a mesmeris-
ing set by Kjartan
Hólm. Those gath-
ered also saw performances by Ólöf
Arnalds and Skúli Sverrisson. Ólöf and
Skúli’s sets were up to their usual high
standards, a bit like their otherworldly
collaborations on ‘Sería’ but even more
serene in this setting.
It was IamHelgi that was the curve-
ball of the festival. One-half of rap duo
Úlfur Úlfur, Helgi is one of Iceland’s
foremost hip-hop producers, known
for his party music. Here, he went off
on a modular synth jam, delivering a
different but interesting take on the
sound of the day.
Crouching tiger, hidden
film composer
Composer Atli Örvarsson’s set was
a highlight. The Akureyri-born and
-based film composer started out in
countryside party bands in the 80s,
then decamped for LA where he built a
formidable career in movie and TV mu-
sic. On his return to Iceland a couple
of years ago, many
were surprised to
hear of his career,
as he hadn’t been
sending out press
releases.
Ten hours into
the festival, Bar!i’s
set harked back to
his roots in rocka-
billy-tinged shoe-
gaze music, only
th i s t i me more
droney.
My favourite set of the night though
was that of Melissa and Nathan—a
bass and guitar jam on top of a men-
acing drum machine; an unchanging
soundtrack for robot cowboys.
Juliana digitally made choral-
sounding works were probably the
night’s most natural fit. Sindri Már
Culture
The Arctic Drone Festival creates 24-hours of otherness

Festival
Arctic Drone will
be back in 2020, if
all goes well.
16The Reykjavík Grapevine
Issue 20— 2019
The default position of the weekend
Words:
Sveinbjörn
Pálsson
Photos:
Arctic Drone
Festival
Joy, Sustainability
& Honesty
Kaupvangur 17 - Egilsstadir
tel: +354-471-2450
Happy Hour
all days 15 - 19
Best selection of Icelandic
Beers in the East
Private rooms & dorms
Homemade cakes & soups,
vegan & friendly food
I T ' S N O T T R U E
S K A F T F E L L
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& L i tt e n Ny s t rOm :
O p e n i n g 2 1 . 0 9 . 2 0 1 9 1 6 h - 1 8 h
2 1 . 0 9 - 2 8 . 1 0 2 0 1 9
Skaftfell - Center for Visual Art, Sey!isfjör!ur
www.skaftfell . is · mail@skaftfell . info

Flight:
eagleair.is
Accomodation:
fosshotel.is
Sailing:
northsailing.is
Baths:
geosea.is
Dozin! In
The Haze
Of The
Drone
“As a stage dive is
to a normal rock
concert, the peak
experience of Arctic
Drone was dozing
off on the mats in
front of the stage.”
Dísa Jakobs' amazing performance