Iceland review - 2007, Síða 23

ICELAND REVIEW 21
audIofIlE
sara blask: You hit a home run with “Inside Your Head.” How did
you hear from Mac that you were the chosen one?
EbErg: Well, I was about four pints in at my friend’s party and I got
a call around midnight. They said they wanted to use it but that they
needed an edit now. That sobered me up. So I told them, sure, I’d
have to get back to my “studio.” My studio being my flat with my
computer.
sb: It was probably 5 a.m. in Iceland when the Oscars were being
streamed into Iceland from Los Angeles. Did you stay up to watch?
EbErg: I got this phone call in the middle of the night from a friend
in New York. She said she was watching the Oscars and that they
were playing my bloody song! It was the best reason I’ve ever gotten
woken up.
sb: After reading some of the messages on your MySpace profile, it
seems like a lot of young girls have fallen in love with you, perhaps
because they also love The OC. Do you reply to them?
EbErg: Usually I don’t unless I’m in the right mood. But if you do it’s
a bit dangerous. They become your best friend and then they keep
sending you mail, which is lovely. But it’s also a bit weird.
sb: One of your tracks is called “Love Your Bum.” An ode to the
arse?
EbErg: Those lyrics come from too much time on the toilet with nothing
to read. I went to the grocery store with a pen and piece of paper to
write down the advertising slogans from the toilet paper packaging. I
think ‘break the habit’ is one of them. Also ‘your house is our house.’ I
don’t really get any of them.
sb: I assume you like good quality toilet paper then? None of that
one-ply stuff.
EbErg: Yeah. I like Charmin Comfort.
sb: VoffVoff is the title of your latest album, which you say is how
Icelandic dogs bark. But there don’t seem to be many dogs here!
American dogs pronounce it “woof woof,” by the way.
EbErg: There are dogs in the countryside – and they wouldn’t
understand any of this “woof woof” business. When I’m in crowded
areas, like on the tube or in train stations, I sometimes start barking.
Usually what happens is that people think it’s so weird that they get
up from their seats and leave, which is great because then I have a
place to sit.
sb:Your name is Einar Tönsberg. I can see where you get “Eberg”
from, but do your friends call you Einar or Eberg?
EbErg: My friends in the U.K. call me Eberg. For some reason they
don’t hear the ‘r’ in my name, they hear it as an ‘l.’ Einal. [anal]. I gave
up on that a long time ago.
sb: What’s playing on your iPod these days?
EbErg: Nothing. I don’t have an iPod. I depend upon my flatmates
for music. I like Elliott Smith though, but I also just like conversation,
people talking. That’s a kind of music. I’m also addicted to BBC4.
sb: Is Eberg just you? Do you ever play with anyone else?
EbErg: Eberg is just me, but when I play live there’s usually a drummer,
a cellist and a very nervous computer.
sb: Nervous computer?
EbErg: Well, it gets a bit scared when we’re playing live and it
makes some stupid mistake like stops playing in the middle of a track
or just turns itself off. I think it might be a bit ill. I think it might be secretly
watching porn or something. It’s getting some diseases I think.
sb: You sometimes play with unusual instruments like scissors and
something you dubbed the ‘eharp’ that’s made from guitar strings and
a wooden coat hanger. How’d you get inspired?
EbErg: I’m not really sure how that happened. After my first album I
was terrified of playing live and I think this was my defense, to make
something silly to hide behind. Somehow I got this wooden hanger
thing, but then I had to go on a quest to find the right kind of wooden
hanger. They don’t make them like they used to. So I went to this old
man’s clothing shop where all the hangers are like 100 years old and
those are the ones I used. It’s a great instrument. Also, I’m the best
eharp player in the world. I hate being average.
sb: So many people drool over Iceland’s music scene these days. I’m
not sure I buy it, do you?
EbErg: I think the arrogance is getting dangerous here. People are
getting ahead of themselves a lot. People are losing humility. What
happens here is you go to a radio station and most likely you know
one of the deejays. They’ll play the track for you and if they like it,
they’ll play it again and again. That’s kind of how it works here. I think
the beauty of Icelandic music used to be, or maybe still is, that there’s
no history of people making money out of music. So if you’re making
music you have to be doing it because you love doing it. You have to
be proud of it. And maybe that’s disappearing.
sb: You lived in London for a decade and decided to move back to
the Republic last summer. How come?
EbErg: I felt like ten years was a long time. It was either stay and
have a future there or come back and have a future here. It’s what
happens when you go abroad – it’s a bit like you’re on a holiday and
you don’t make any normal decisions like buying a flat. London’s great
for being young and careless, but this is great for a family. I’m starting
to build a little summerhouse in Hvalfjördur. The problem is that there
aren’t that many screws holding it together now. And there’s no toilet.
by sara blask photo by páll stefánsson