Reykjavík Grapevine - júl. 2020, Blaðsíða 16

In I!NÓ’s airy attic space, over-
looking Tjörnin, Jóhannes (Jói)
Bjarki Bjarkason, Bjarni Daníel,
Au"unn Orri Sigurvinsson and
Sævar Andri Sigur"arson sit com-
fortably, sporting electric blue
boiler suits and sipping coffee as
they reflect on their band’s new
album, ‘Skoffín hentar íslenskum
a"stæ"um’. Full of existential
angst, the release is heavier than
Skoffín’s previous offerings, but
still retains the raw youthful en-
ergy that is these indie rockers’
lifeblood.
A generation in danger
“We wanted to parallel the Cold
War era atmosphere in Iceland
to the climate crisis atmosphere
that we’re facing nowadays,” Jói
explains, referencing the album’s
apocalyptic lyrics and jittery gui-
tar riffs. “I was having a chat with
my parents. I was talking about
becoming vegan and I was just
facing this existential crisis,” he
continues. “I felt that my life and
the lives of our generation were
in danger.”
“Which they are,” Bjarni sol-
emnly interjects.

Skoffín has always had a politi-
cal undercurrent—all are proud
members of the anti-capitalist
grassroots music collective Post-
dreifing. In fact, Bjarni is cur-
rently orchestrating the group’s
summer takeover at I!NÓ in place
of their cancelled Hátí"ni fes-
tival. But ‘Skoffín
hentar íslenskum
a"stæ"um’ is ar-
guably the band’s
most radical re-
cording yet. “I ac-
tually have this re-
a l l y go o d q u o t e
[about the album]
recorded on my
phone from Sævar,”
Au"unn explains. “It’s ‘we’re
going to be thrown out of
s o c i e t y f o r t h i s a l b u m .’ ”
Songs for trembling
Though the musicians are quick
to crack a joke about the lyrics,
they’re clearly heavily invested in
their subject matter. “I remember
rehearsing ‘Sætar stelpur’ and just
bursting into tears,” Jói recounts.
“I feel as though there’s some-
thing in that song that’s trying to
come out and kill me… the ener-
gy’s very much desperate.”
Bjarni nods. “When we practise
sometimes, I end up trembling,”
he says, seconding Jói’s account.
“I’ve played so much music over
the past couple of years, but these
tunes still really, really get to me. I
think we left some magic in these
songs—some dread and anxiety
that gets brought back to life every
time they are played.”
So, imagine the band’s surprise
when the first reviews came out,
describing ‘Skoffín hentar íslens-
kum a"stæ"um’ as a “fun record.”
On reflection, Jói recognises that,
despite its heavy theme, the al-
bum is, as he describes, “...a really
fun record to play.”
A flirtatious nightmare
And there we find the central
irony of the album: it’s both ener-
getic and nihilistic,
seemingly playful
and panicked all at
once. “We’re sort
of flirting with a
bunch of different
subject matters,”
Au"unn explains.
“We’re directly talk-
ing about atomic
bombs and mass
destruction but also comparing it
to having crushes on girls.” Few
other bands could pivot so effort-
lessly between referencing the
Organisation for Economic Co-
operation and Development and
rising CO2 levels to the trials and
tribulations of a teenager in love.
According to Bjarni, this was in-
tentional—dig below the surface
and you’ll always find some link
back to the album’s sombre theme.
Take 60s-feel doo-wop track
“Skoffín vinnur sem tæknifræ"in-
Culture
A Soundtrack To
Get Thrown Out Of
Society To
Skoffín provides the indie rock
album for the climate crisis

Words: Poppy Askham Photos: Art Bicnick
16The Reykjavík Grapevine
Issue 05— 2020
This band pic gave our captions writer symbolism overload and he had to go home

EXPLORE
UNSEEN
ICELAND
WITHOUT
LEAVING
THE CITY!
“I remember
rehearsing
‘Sætar stelpur’
and just burst-
ing into tears.”