Iceland review - 2013, Side 22

20 ICELAND REVIEW
ÁSGEIR TRAUSTI IN
TECHNICOLOR
Already at age 20, Ásgeir Trausti Einarsson has caused ripples in the music scene
with the release of his debut Dýrð í dauðaþögn—nominated for this year’s
Nordic Music Prize and six Icelandic music awards—after his hit single by the
same name topped local charts for weeks.
Ásgeir Trausti steps forward from backstage, adjusts
his denim jacket and carefully tunes the pegs of his
guitar. He scans the setup of his band mates’ instru-
ments, then goes back to his pegs. He sits down,
albeit sideways to the audience, and rustles in his
jacket and burgundy jeans.
“We are the band Ásgeir Trausti,” he mouths into the micro-
phone, gesturing at a band ten pieces strong.
“You are Ásgeir Trausti!” yells a member from the audience. After
a breathless pause, Ásgeir nods.
“We are also Ásgeir Trausti,” he grins, and the guitar snaps into
sound for the artist’s first of ten slated performances at Iceland
Airwaves 2012.
The Young TYrAnT
Sitting in Café Paris earlier that week, Ásgeir is wearing the same
denim jacket and burgundy jeans. His hands have the same calluses
and his long thumbnail is similarly calcified. The only thing missing
from his restless hands is the guitar.
“I’ve been in classical guitar training since I was seven,” Ásgeir
says. At that time, it was a ‘stupid’ chore—he could only see his
future in electric guitar. He dreamed of taking the stage like his
idols in Nirvana, singing with Kurt Cobain’s abandon and smashing
his guitar in reckless finales.
Soon, Ásgeir was playing with his first garage band around his
hometown, Laugarbakki. In Iceland’s smallest town, among just
a handful of musicians his own age, he was marked for preco-
cious sound design and songwriting that quickly shifted outside of
grunge. When one instrument was no longer enough, he bought a
drum-kit and started banging on it without lessons.
“It got to the point where I needed to teach the drummer what
to play. I was just more interested in the drums than he was,” Ásgeir
recalls.
It was the beginning of a pattern. In his various outfits, Ásgeir
kept hold of his guitar during shows. But from drums, to keys, to
By nic cavEll PHoTo By Páll StEfánSSon
bass, he couldn’t refrain from directing his musical counterparts in
what to play.
At the same time, he took notes when his father, Einar Georg
Einarsson, and brother, Þorsteinn Einarsson of the reggae band
Hjálmar, played guitar. He followed his mother’s fingers when
she played piano bass and organ for a local church. In sum, the
influences from a musical family and the experience writing and
assigning parts for diverse instruments fed into a larger conception
of what a song could be. The sheer amount of hours he spent on
his passion racked up like any one of Malcolm Gladwell’s ‘outliers.’
“And then I started to see that the classical training goes into
everything,” Ásgeir says.
Since Ásgeir finished classical last year at age 19, he has contin-
ued to pore over guitar parts, and puzzle over which guitar is best
for each song.
“I own something like 12 guitars—eight classical, two electric
and a few others. I use them for different sounds,” he said. “I
recently bought a Martin OM-28, which is my favorite, all-time.”
It’s smaller and easier to handle than the guitars Ásgeir grew up
with. With a list price of USD 5,499 it’s worth the weight of its
title and a fitting scepter for musical royalty. Under Ásgeir’s thumb,
it fairly flies.
iT TaKeS a viLLage
Laugarbakki, where Ásgeir spent his formative years, is a hamlet in
the geothermal patch lining the eastern banks of the Miðfjarðará
river in Northwest Iceland. A floating population of about 45 is
comprised mostly of sexto- and septuagenarians.
Growing up, Ásgeir’s second passion was javelin throwing. Before
a troublesome injury in his late teens, he imagined a future in track
and field. He rarely lifts weights anymore—“although you have
time to work out, the music just starts to control you”—but he
maintains an athletic build and has a hard time not appearing rest-
less sitting in a café in the city.
Silent mountains and fishing lines arc to form the rest of