Reykjavík Grapevine - des. 2021, Blaðsíða 10

10 The Reykjavík Grapevine
Issue 12— 2021
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Halfway through our third beer, Skrattar
start to reminisce about Sölvi's 30th birth-
day party that was held in the beginning
of November at Húrra. The other band
members had arranged for Dr. Mister & Mr.
Handsome—an electronic and dance music
band from the early 2000s—to perform at his
party. This band had not been active in years,
and I’m shown a video of Sölvi’s astonished
reaction when he realised what was happen-
ing.
“It was the craziest gift I’ve ever gotten. I
even got to sing one of their songs with them
on the stage,” Sölvi recalls.
Even though the band celebrated Sölvi’s
birthday together, Kalli reveals they don’t
actually go out together that much. They
usually all hang out during their studio
sessions, which they refer to as “Skrattar
shifts”. During these sessions, the whole band
is submerged in music. They pull all-nighters
and drink heavily—all for artistic purposes,
of course. Yet another sign that Skrattar is
keeping rock culture alive in Iceland.
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We proceed with the bar crawl and head to
Röntgen. On the way there, we walk past
the office of Rough Cult, the film produc-
tion company that has directed many of
Skrattar’s music videos. After seeing some
friends inside, we decide to pop in. I chat for
a moment with a girl from the office, and as
we are leaving, she offers me a can of Ora
green peas—the star of Icelandic Christ-
mas dinners—to take with me. She wants to
ensure I don’t get hungry as the night wears
on. I thank her and continue the journey with
peas in my bag.
As we get to Röntgen, the guys think it’s
time to order the most rock ‘n’ roll drink
on Earth for everyone—margaritas. At this
point, I feel like I need to stick to water for
a moment, so I end up taking only a few sips
of my cocktail. The drink itself, however,
doesn’t go to waste as the guys come to the
rescue and gulp it down. I’ve learned it’s
clearly unacceptable to leave a drop of booze
untouched in their presence.
Next up is a quick stop at renowned bar
Priki!. By coincidence, we meet Jón Arnar’s
girlfriend there. “We need to take a picture
with Jón Arnar and his widow who’s lost her
husband at the sea,” the guys laugh as they
give her his framed picture, which has mirac-
ulously stayed with us through the evening.
We down a shot of something and proceed on
our pub crawl.
Walking down Laugavegur, we get
harassed by a man who claims he hates capi-
talism. Nobody provokes him, but he follows
us, shouting that “these fools in leather jack-
ets think they aren’t slaves of capitalism”. As
we reach Lækjartorg, the creep is still behind
us. The guys have had enough of him, so
they form a semicircle around him. I’m left
outside to observe what happens from a
distance.
Not one member of the band decides to
punch this dude, even though he is clearly
begging for a tussle. They just stare at him
and say that it’s time for him to fuck off,
which he eventually does, and everyone
continues their night unharmed. Walking
towards the next place, the guys lighten the
mood by saying that they will send this man
after me if I write a bad article about them.
Let’s hope that doesn’t happen.
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We arrive at our last destination of the night,
Skúli Craft Bar. The clock is ticking and we
don’t have that much time to spend here
before it closes. However, there is enough
time for me to learn Kalli’s signature hand-
shake and for the boys to write messages to
my notebook. One of them is smudged and
there’s a text above it, saying “Don’t read
this!” I try my best to make sense of the
smudged text, but it remains a mystery.
As the bartenders announce that the bar is
closing, a melancholic wave washes over me.
It’s sad to end the night so early when graced
with such perfect company, so I’m pleasantly
surprised when the guys start looking for an
after party.
Apparently, Skrattar are not the only
people drinking today, because the guys find
another party in no time. We gear up and
leave for someone's friend’s apartment.
When we get there, the first noticeable
thing is that the apartment smells heavily of
incense. The place is decorated with plants,
statues and a lamp that washes the room in
a red glow. A swing hangs from the ceiling in
the corner of the living room, and it’s accom-
panied by a couple of couches. Electronic
music is playing in the background.
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I approach the owner of the apartment, a
sweet girl who rolls a blunt as I start talking
to her. Apparently the incense isn’t wafting
in the air because she likes the smell of it,
but rather to cover the scent of pot. When
asked if she lives here by herself, she reveals
that she’s never completely alone: there’s a
75-year-old ghost who stays in the apartment
with her.
The place is packed with people, and
countless cans and bottles are laying about.
Some people are playing cards, others just
chatting. Kalli has found a small guitar, and
plays it while sitting on the swing.
As I’m having a conversation about life in
general with Kári, Sölvi comes in from the
kitchen and offers us drinks, accidentally
spilling them all over the floor. It tastes like
my teenage years: vodka mixed with a juice
that’s designed to disguise the taste of booze,
(mango-passion in this case).
After finishing my drink, I leave the
members of Skrattar sitting on the sofa and
approach the toilet. When I open the door,
I see a bunch of people powdering their
noses—quite literally. They are nice enough
to ask if I’d like to have some as well, but I
politely decline the offer.
It’s 4am and I’m starving. I’m advised to
go to the kitchen, as there should be a few
pieces of pizza laying around. I find a slice
and turn to get back to the living room, but
I’m stopped by a ballerina. She wants me to
witness her dance and urges me to feel her
muscles. I can’t disagree, she’s got some
strong thighs.
I return to the living room and notice a
chess game has begun between Kalli and the
apartment’s owner. As Kalli gets crushed
by his opponent, he demands a drink. The
owner pours everyone a shot of vodka, after
which she asks me and Kári to join her for
a game of backgammon. Neither of us have
ever played, but an unbelievable amount of
double numbers from the dice drive us to
victory. You could say it’s beginner's luck, but
I beg to differ.
The party goes on until the owner gets
tired of hosting, and we leave the premises at
around 5.30am. The guys are keen on contin-
uing the night, but I think that this is my cue
to head home.
The night proved much more eventful
than I ever expected it to be. As I crawl home,
I consider the complex question of the death
of rock ‘n’ roll. I might not be able to offer
a complete answer to it, but after this night
one thing is for sure. Skrattar are very much
alive and well.
Info: Skrattar's new album is available on
shop.grapevine.is
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