During the course of a normal day at work, I skim the entire Pitchfork website for national music news, Radio Free Silver Lake for local music news, Andrew Sullivan's Daily Dish for political and pop cultural analysis, The Volokh Conspiracy for legal news, Professorbainbridge.com for a conservative viewpoint on law, politics and culture, Slate for news, tech and cultural commentary, as well as stay on top of my facebook feed (and any links that appear). If I'm really bored, I'll skim through Boing Boing too. Or maybe any of the few friend blogs that I follow. And I use yahoo news as a home page and click on any interesting articles. I would love to know how much of my time goes into those websites, probably a lot. I don't consider it wasted time, as what I learn there is much of what fills my conversations, and helps me to at least perceive myself as moderately informed. But when you add work to this, and the occasional gym visit, there's not a whole lot of time for books.
Over the approximately 110 days of my trip, I had very limited internet access. While I admittedly probably spent about 30 minutes a day reading facebook and other websites off of my blackberry, I eliminated the hours of browsing and investigating that normally fill the empty spaces in my days. So I read the following 13 books. Sitting on trains across Europe and planes over seas and channels, lying on a bed in London, sitting at a kitchen table in Zurich, sitting on a lounge chair in Provence.
The books I read were significant to the trip, and filled much space that would otherwise have been spent staring out windows or quietly reflecting. Here's a quick blurb as to what I thought about each, as well as what I was doing at the time I was reading the book.
1. The Lost Books of the Odyssey by Zach Mason
Rating: 5/5
What did I think?: During my final days in Los Angeles, I heard the author discuss this on KCRW's Bookworm, was fascinated, and bought it at Book Soup before I left. The premise is that 40 or so additional books from the Odyssey were discovered that tell the classic stories of Odysseus, Penelope, Athena, Agamemnon, Menelaus, Helen, Paris, the Cyclops, etc. but from different perspectives, with different outcomes, different characterizations for each of the characters, etc. In one the Cyclops is presented as a lonely cave dweller tormented by a band of pirates. In another, the Greek army spends an eternity building caves of sand in Troy without ever entering the city walls. In another, Odysseus deserts the war, ends up on a ship heading back to Greece, and finds a book written by someone named Homer, telling his story. Supposedly the book had a mathematical structure that made it more complex than I could tell. While technically prose, the sentences were constructed in the extremely tight, carefully chosen style of poetry. A pleasure to read for anyone who as much as semi-enjoyed the Odyssey, and not very long, so not intimidating despite the spare, but heavy text.
Where was I?:
2. The Magicians by Lev Grossman
Rating: 3.5/5
What did I think of it?: Of those adults I know that have read the Harry Potter series, I am one of very few to have found it very poorly written, each volume unnecessarily long considering the thing characters and simplistic plot. On top of that, I don't find magic oh-so-very-fascinating most of the time (Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell being a very serious exception, but possibly because it doubled as historical fiction). The Magicians was what Harry Potter should have been, and given my predisposition against the subject matter, I thought it was really good. Essentially it tells the story of an outsider kid from the real world who is transported to a magic school in an alternate dimension, his eccentric band of friends, and the mysterious/comical professors who run the school. Sound familiar? But it avoided the cliches of Harry Potter, and told an engaging, complex story, with realistic characters who spoke more like people from the world I recognize in one volume. I hate to compare it so closely to another book, but I have trouble looking at it in any other way than a much, much, improved version of a pre-existing mediocre book. Loses some points for some painful teenagery dialogue.
Where was I?: London, early in the trip, train ride from Stansted Airport back to London, the 12 hour train ride to Zurich, very tired.
3. White Tiger by Aravind Adiga
Rating: 4/5
What did I think of it?: In my effort to read as many of the Man Booker Prize winners as possible (despite everybody telling me it is a semi-meaningless award), I picked this up at Book Soup before I left L.A.. Tells the story of an Indian chauffeur/entrepreneur who murders his boss and the events leading up to the murder. Intended I hear to present the "real" India, revealing the emptiness and hypocrisy of much of the culture, the spiritual practices, and its economic boom. The character is funny, sympathetic, hard to predict, but at the same time there is something that rubs me the wrong way about authors patting themselves on the back for accurately capturing the "voice" of the underclasses. By the end of the book, everything makes sense (the beginning raises a number of question marks answered). I liked the way the narrator walks the reader through the plot, his thoughts, and his motivations.
Where was I?: Started in Zurich, and brought on my day trips to Basel and Lucerne. I remember reading it on the tram in Basel, the tram stopping and reversing direction. Very confusing. The book got so wet from sweat and rain that the cover almost fell off completely.
4. Less Than Zero by Bret Easton Ellis
Rating: 4.5/5
What did I think of it?: Classic tale of teenage emptiness, and a generation without morality, conscience or perspective. Some of the cruelty, both physical and psychological that makes up much of Glamorama and American Psycho are present here. Clay's month home for winter break in Los Angeles takes place in many places familiar to me, living in the Beverly Hills area, but with a crowd very unlike that with which I associated in high school and college. It was unpleasant to read about such horrible people, even occasionally feeling sympathy for them, especially when flashbacks make clear how recently they were children. I liked the spare writing style.
Where was I?: I was reading it more or less around the same time I started Infinite Jest in Zurich, but much of it was read sitting on a bed in the guesthouse in Heimaey during the Thjodhatid festival Iceland. During the day, the group of 10 or so Icelandics with whom I was associating would sit outside in the sun drinking beer and listening to music off of iPhones, telling dirty jokes in Icelandic, and discussing the all-important concept of "sleikur". I was there for much of this, but I'd often return to my shared bedroom with a canteen bottle full of vodka and juice and read Less Than Zero. I started it on the Laugavegurinn hike (which took place right before Thjodhatid) at the third hut, while sitting next to Canadians Morgan and Becca who were reading something else. The three of us sat silently reading, deep in the Icelandic wilderness, cold air, salmon grilled on a BBQ by the guides. Reading about teenagers in the early 80s partying in L.A. was jarring under these circumstances.
5. Infinite Jest by David Foster Wallace
Rating: 6/5
What did I think of it?: I've been afraid of this book for as long as I've known about it. 1100 pages, over 300 endnotes (100 pages worth), small print, heavy to carry. The few people I have known to read it described it as unmissable, and DFW as a genius, but my fear of "not getting it", stopping half way, or just not liking it kept me away. Now with almost 4 months to travel, it was my time to give it a try. To be honest, it took a while to get the hang of. There are so many details, long lectures on tennis strategy, various types of prescription and non-prescription drugs, the layout of a fictional Boston tennis academy, and various fictional Quebecois terrorist organizations to keep track of. And it is hard to know what was "important." I think I started to "get" it around 300-400 pages into the book, and the last 300-400 pages went by almost too quickly. As I suspected, the long, rambling sentences, the pages and pages and pages describing the inherent contradictions involved in Alcoholics Anonymous, the tennis racket sponsorships for each of a group of characters, etc. do not necessarily need to be absorbed for detail -- it's the experience of being flooded with these words that the book is effecting. Sometimes a brilliant observation about life, human nature, etc. is buried in one of these lectures. Some of the jokes were truly LOL. Some long portions were just plain boring. But it's a fantastic book. And if you make it through (sometimes a chore), it's rewarding. I highly recommend to anyone with an extended illness, time off work, a long vacation, or spending time at the international space station.
Where was I?: It took me approximately a month to read, which given the length, was much better than what I projected. I started it sitting in the botanical gardens in Zurich, read it on the plane on the way to Finland, occasionally read it while in Finland, didn't touch it at all in Iceland, bars in Amsterdam, Groningen (the Irish Bar and the beer bar, and Wagamama), Maastricht, Texel (and the trains in between), the train to Copenhagen, the train to Paris, the train to San Sebastian, on the beach, in bed sick in Provence, finished on the train to Cinqueterre near Genoa. I carried it in my backpack, making my backpack always very heavy and bulky. I couldn't carry it anywhere without looking like a dick. I don't think I met anyone who recognized it. I was happy to leave it with my brother in Zurich when I was done.
6. My Stroke of Insight by Jill Bolte Taylor, Ph.D.
Rating: 2/5
What did I think of it?: Jill Taylor is a brain scientist who had a major stroke in her mid-30s, and due to her training, was able to understand the brain processes taking place in her head, while they were happening. There's a great TED lecture (20 minutes long) where she explains the experience. I recommend watching it -- it gave me a lot of insight into certain of my own brain related experiences. But this 200 pageish book is completely unnecessary. The long description of her recovery, her advice that people be positive and enjoy life, etc, while true, are better found somewhere else. The real gem of her story was the story of the actual stroke, and she tells it very well in the video. The book came off as preachy, and kind of condescending. I didn't hate it though, because I find what happened to her, and the underlying story to be so good. And I kind of like her goofy personality too.
Where was I?: After I finished Infinite Jest, I wanted something short and easy. I read it while sitting at Bar Central in Riomaggiore, alternating with reading articles on my Blackberry. It didn't take long to get through, and then I was left with nothing for a while.
7. The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo by Steig Larsson
Rating: 4/5
What did I think of it?: Great mystery novel, great exploration of the problem of violence against women, great exploration of the evils of the finance industry. And suspenseful. I had trouble putting it down. It's popular for a reason.
Where was I?: Bought it at a student bookstore in Florence (where I got yelled at by the lady working there for holding a smoothie). Read it very quickly in Zurich because it was so much fun, much of it at Le Pain Quotidian near my brother's apartment, trying to save money by reading instead of fancy activities.
8. The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet by David Mitchell
Rating: 5/5
What did I think of it?: David Mitchell's Cloud Atlas is one of my favorite books of all time, and Black Swan Green was very good, so my expectations were high. Tells the story of Dejima, the small island next to Nagasaki used by the Dutch East India Company around the turn of the 19th century, and a fictional clerk living there working for the company. Mitchell's use of dialect by the Dutch (and other foreigners) on the island, as well as the semi-fluent Japanese interpreters is brilliant because...he's writing in English of course, but giving the "sense" of what the Dutch, Japanese, German, or whatever would have sounded like, without being too archaic about it. Funny verbal exchanges, attention to historical detail, exciting plot, lots of tension, but still not so hard to follow. What a relief that I loved this one.
Where was I?: Bought it in Zurich at a great English language bookstore, took it with me to Interlachen, Zermatt, Lausanne. My main memory is reading it outdoors at the Balmer's hostel during the 6-7 p.m. happy hour, two large Swiss beers in front of me, eavesdropping on a miserable conversation between some American girls and Australian guys.
9. Freedom by Jonathan Franzen
Rating: 5/5
What did I think of it?: While the official reviews seem mostly glowing, almost everyone I meet found this book to be overrated. Why did I love it so much? The dialogue flowed like real dialogue. Franzen gets passive aggression better than almost any other author. And understands what motivates people. And lives in the world as I know it to exist. I actually laughed and cried.
Where was I?: Bought it in Zurich, read it at the airport, on the beach in Tel-Aviv, in cafes all over Tel-Aviv, in the hot Tel-Aviv hostel while lying on the top bunk bed, sitting on the balcony at the hostel. It was difficult for me to put down.
10. Amsterdam by Ian McEwan
Rating: 4/5
What did I think of it?: Morality tale about two London middle aged male friends. At first it annoyed me a little. I wasn't so interested in the thought process behind Clive's musical compositions, nor the newsroom drama at Vernon's newspaper. The problems of these two high class guys didn't concern me. About halfway through the book, the moral issues raised became much clearer, and the ending shocked me. The first half I could hardly get into, but starting around the time of Clive's hike in the north, I couldn't put it down.
Where was I?: I took some time in London to relax, lie in bed, read. I think most of this was finished from bed.
11. Exodus by Leon Uris
Rating: 3.5/5
What did I think of it?: After visiting Israel, and having many questions about it, and having been recommended this book by several people, I read it for the purpose of educating myself about Israel's history, and maybe enjoying a story as well. And that's what I got. It reads a bit like Israeli propaganda, but isn't entirely one-sided. And, if even most of the historical facts in there are true, it makes a fairly solid case for Israel's existence, and even for the manner in which it was created. What I'd love to read would be an annotated version where someone from the other side explained their disagreement with the factual statements or implications. Exodus tells the stories of European refugees to Palestine (from various parts of Europe), Palestinian Jews, Americans, and British, what brought them to Palestine, and their roles in building the young country. I liked the book, I just felt at times it took some cheap shots, overused exclamation marks, read slightly trashily, had a dated tone, and did not adequately explain why, given the facts presented in the book, the Palestinian Arabs were so intent on attacking Israeli settlements. Moved very quickly for a semi-long book.
Where was I?: Started it late at night in London, soon before leaving for Ireland. Read a lot of it in the Dublin Airport, sitting in the parking lot near Gap of Dunloe, waiting for Irish AAA to arrive to fix my car, in Irish pubs and restaurants, trying to avoid people seeing the cover and starting uncomfortable conversations.
12. Imperial Bedrooms by Bret Easton Ellis
Rating: 3/5
What did I think of it?: Sequel to Less Than Zero, takes place in the present day, 25 years after the events of the previous book, in the same geographic location. The book was full of references to places I frequent, or with which I am at least familiar (major scene at Bristol Farms, Equinox Gym, Cafe Primo next door, the Beverly Hills Hotel, Sunset Plaza, Apple Store in Century City, Comme Ca, Chateau Marmont, Barney's, and a cafe that was probably Le Conversacion). At times even more gruesome than Less Than Zero, the characters are possibly even more rotten. My big BEE fan friend hated it, but I couldn't quite see why, besides that the writing wasn't quite as "neat" as that in LTZ. One thing I enjoyed about this was the narrator's acknowledgment of the existence of LTZ and of BEE as the author, before explaining what BEE got right and wrong. Maybe the fact that this book contained more "answers" than LTZ made it worse, I don't know.
Where was I?: I was locked out of Joe and Natalia's apartment for 3.5 hours, so I walked down the street to Waterstones, bought the book, and read it while drinking coffee at Apostrophe.
13. Vernon God Little by DBC Pierre
Rating: 3.5/5
What did I think of it?: Another Booker Prize winner on list. Like White Tiger, I was annoyed by the narrator's carefully crafted small town Texas dialect, oh isn't that just precious. VGL is also supposedly funny, or at least according to the critics. I suspect it is funny in the same way Confederacy of Dunces was funny -- the madcap adventures of a flawed narrator through a cruel world full of silly, hypocritical people, narrow escapes, mockery of how foolish people in town are, but then revealing some sort of commonality shared by all by the end. Eh. But yes, it was admittedly skillfully written, and I got into the plot about halfway through. And the ending was surprisingly satisfying.
Where was I?: On the plane to Iceland for the Airwaves Festival, the plane back and the plane back to the U.S. I had almost no time to read it in Iceland, nor was I particularly tempted to do so.
The Smiths -- Handsome Devil
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
What If I Told You I Could Be Distant, Without Even Going Away?
October 19, 2010
This is the entry for the last day of my trip, but there's going to be a few more, I think, okay?
I probably spent about 24 hours awake, everything worked out fine, I made it home safely.
Woke up at 7:00 a.m., slipped out the door with my incredibly heavy backpack (all the items I left in London during my various short trips had to be carried with me this time), grabbed a coffee from the local Starbucks, took District and Picadilly lines to Heathrow. I got a little lost finding terminal 1 and deep in my gut I feared that I would not be allowed to travel with my passport. The relief I felt when I made it through check in and security is hard to describe.
But I prepared poorly for the flight. One book (Vernon God Little), with only 100 pages left. The American Airlines DVD player was inferior to that on Icelandair, both in terms of selection and video quality. I was forced to watch Grown Ups (pretty consistently bad, especially when the guys "joke around" with each other, and laugh hysterically, even though the material is so far from the best typically enjoyed by these guys, especially Chris Rock and Adam Sandler), and Up in the Air (which I like, but had seen it before, and the sanitized dubbing made many of the conversations semi-incomprehensible -- when Clooney points at the "Asians" at the airport he is dubbed as saying "businessmen"), several old episodes of Entourage and Curb Your Enthusiasm. Over those 9 hours to Dallas, there must have been two meals and two snacks.
Making it through customs and immigration made me breathe yet another sigh of relief. Bought the newish Jonathan Safran Foer book "Eating Animals".
Flight to LA was painless. Chatted with the lady next to me and her son (after mentioning her to my parents, learned that her husband used to live in our apartment building when I was a baby, small world).
Parents picked me up at LAX, my least favorite airport. And it was raining.
They took me to El Tarasco, a fantastic Mexican restaurant in Manhattan Beach, and I had a wet burrito, my first in months and we drove to their house.
And that was my long holiday in Europe.
Carolyn Mark -- The 1 That Got Away (With It)
This is the entry for the last day of my trip, but there's going to be a few more, I think, okay?
I probably spent about 24 hours awake, everything worked out fine, I made it home safely.
Woke up at 7:00 a.m., slipped out the door with my incredibly heavy backpack (all the items I left in London during my various short trips had to be carried with me this time), grabbed a coffee from the local Starbucks, took District and Picadilly lines to Heathrow. I got a little lost finding terminal 1 and deep in my gut I feared that I would not be allowed to travel with my passport. The relief I felt when I made it through check in and security is hard to describe.
But I prepared poorly for the flight. One book (Vernon God Little), with only 100 pages left. The American Airlines DVD player was inferior to that on Icelandair, both in terms of selection and video quality. I was forced to watch Grown Ups (pretty consistently bad, especially when the guys "joke around" with each other, and laugh hysterically, even though the material is so far from the best typically enjoyed by these guys, especially Chris Rock and Adam Sandler), and Up in the Air (which I like, but had seen it before, and the sanitized dubbing made many of the conversations semi-incomprehensible -- when Clooney points at the "Asians" at the airport he is dubbed as saying "businessmen"), several old episodes of Entourage and Curb Your Enthusiasm. Over those 9 hours to Dallas, there must have been two meals and two snacks.
Making it through customs and immigration made me breathe yet another sigh of relief. Bought the newish Jonathan Safran Foer book "Eating Animals".
Flight to LA was painless. Chatted with the lady next to me and her son (after mentioning her to my parents, learned that her husband used to live in our apartment building when I was a baby, small world).
Parents picked me up at LAX, my least favorite airport. And it was raining.
They took me to El Tarasco, a fantastic Mexican restaurant in Manhattan Beach, and I had a wet burrito, my first in months and we drove to their house.
And that was my long holiday in Europe.
Carolyn Mark -- The 1 That Got Away (With It)
I Just Left Victoria Gardens and Walked Through Cardboard City Land
October 18, 2010
For the first few hours of the day, I just felt sad. True, I'm really tired of traveling, tried of sleeping in hostels, or on couches, and riding on trains, and flying on planes, and running to catch things, and being late, and lost, and updating this gosh darn blog, that's for sure. But over the past few days, the feeling of wanting to stay in Reykjavik in a more than touristy way, got really strong, and on Monday morning that feeling grew mixed with the simultaneous feeling of what a stupid, overambitious, likely very disappointing aspiration that was. If you know me, it's not typical to get big ideas like that, and my sensible self came alive Sunday morning for sure to bring me back to earth. On the bright side, I woke with my stomach ache completely gone. I completed one blog post (and was now only 2 action packed days behind).
I walked downtown one last time, had one more pylsa at Baejarins Bestu, and went to Havari (the music store that had bands playing all day long) to pick up some CDs before going home. Unlike my previous trips to Havari, it was empty now, all the Airwaves tourists having gone home. I picked up FM Belfast's "How to Make Friends" and S.H. Draumur's compilation Allt Heila Klabbið, featuring the album Goð, among other things. I also bought an illustrated book called "Popular Hits", by Hugleikur Dagsson, which features some pretty hilarious illustrations for the titles of some songs (click link for examples). Running around on the streets of downtown Reykjavik were several groups of costumed youthful types (some were dressed as tigers, others as pigs, etc.), apparently on some sort of scavenger hunt. One of the items on the list was a photograph getting kissed by a stranger. I appear in this photo for 3 of the groups. This cheered me up a bit.
Said goodbye to the apartment in Vesturbaer, and walked fast to the BSI bus station for the ride to the airport. I underestimated both how far away it was, and how easily I would find it. I rode the bus and listened to my iPod, and looked out the window and felt sad about leaving again, not knowing when I would come back again, and of course always worrying that the next trip won't be as good as the previous. This isn't like me to worry about this sort of thing so much.
The Keflavik Airport was rated best in Europe in 2009, and I believe for good cause. It's one of few airports that are just a pleasure to be at. I bought smoked lamb and flatbread at the Inspired by Iceland store and made myself sandwiches, browsed the 66 Degrees shop for woolen sweaters and gloves and scarves (none of which I will buy, as I have no occasion to wear them), bought some whiskey and Topas at the duty free store for consumption in London, and noticed the other tourists still wearing their Airwaves wristbands.
Of course, the flight was a pleasure. I watched the second half of Mama Gogo (the Icelandic movie about the old woman with Alzheimer's) and had to hold back tears, as well as a few episodes of Simmi and Joi's reality show about building the Hamburger Factory restaurant in Reykjavik (their field trip to the Cheesecake Factory in Boston was pretty funny).
The lowpoint of the day was UK immigration. The guy at the counter first yelled at me for having my Blackberry in my hand (even though I was by no means using it, even at all), and then told me that my passport was in unacceptable condition for use in the UK and entered something in the computer saying that I had to leave the UK in no more than 48 hours (my plan anyway, but still) and that I could not return without obtaining a new passport. One more task to complete on getting back to the States, right? This filled me with worry.
As always, it was good to see Joe and Natalia back at their Notting Hill flat, although just for just one last evening. Joe made pasta with tomatoes and olive oil and vinegar, and we drank the whiskey and ate Icelandic licorice and stood out in the cold and said goodbye again.
Madness -- Victoria Gardens
For the first few hours of the day, I just felt sad. True, I'm really tired of traveling, tried of sleeping in hostels, or on couches, and riding on trains, and flying on planes, and running to catch things, and being late, and lost, and updating this gosh darn blog, that's for sure. But over the past few days, the feeling of wanting to stay in Reykjavik in a more than touristy way, got really strong, and on Monday morning that feeling grew mixed with the simultaneous feeling of what a stupid, overambitious, likely very disappointing aspiration that was. If you know me, it's not typical to get big ideas like that, and my sensible self came alive Sunday morning for sure to bring me back to earth. On the bright side, I woke with my stomach ache completely gone. I completed one blog post (and was now only 2 action packed days behind).
I walked downtown one last time, had one more pylsa at Baejarins Bestu, and went to Havari (the music store that had bands playing all day long) to pick up some CDs before going home. Unlike my previous trips to Havari, it was empty now, all the Airwaves tourists having gone home. I picked up FM Belfast's "How to Make Friends" and S.H. Draumur's compilation Allt Heila Klabbið, featuring the album Goð, among other things. I also bought an illustrated book called "Popular Hits", by Hugleikur Dagsson, which features some pretty hilarious illustrations for the titles of some songs (click link for examples). Running around on the streets of downtown Reykjavik were several groups of costumed youthful types (some were dressed as tigers, others as pigs, etc.), apparently on some sort of scavenger hunt. One of the items on the list was a photograph getting kissed by a stranger. I appear in this photo for 3 of the groups. This cheered me up a bit.
Said goodbye to the apartment in Vesturbaer, and walked fast to the BSI bus station for the ride to the airport. I underestimated both how far away it was, and how easily I would find it. I rode the bus and listened to my iPod, and looked out the window and felt sad about leaving again, not knowing when I would come back again, and of course always worrying that the next trip won't be as good as the previous. This isn't like me to worry about this sort of thing so much.
The Keflavik Airport was rated best in Europe in 2009, and I believe for good cause. It's one of few airports that are just a pleasure to be at. I bought smoked lamb and flatbread at the Inspired by Iceland store and made myself sandwiches, browsed the 66 Degrees shop for woolen sweaters and gloves and scarves (none of which I will buy, as I have no occasion to wear them), bought some whiskey and Topas at the duty free store for consumption in London, and noticed the other tourists still wearing their Airwaves wristbands.
Of course, the flight was a pleasure. I watched the second half of Mama Gogo (the Icelandic movie about the old woman with Alzheimer's) and had to hold back tears, as well as a few episodes of Simmi and Joi's reality show about building the Hamburger Factory restaurant in Reykjavik (their field trip to the Cheesecake Factory in Boston was pretty funny).
The lowpoint of the day was UK immigration. The guy at the counter first yelled at me for having my Blackberry in my hand (even though I was by no means using it, even at all), and then told me that my passport was in unacceptable condition for use in the UK and entered something in the computer saying that I had to leave the UK in no more than 48 hours (my plan anyway, but still) and that I could not return without obtaining a new passport. One more task to complete on getting back to the States, right? This filled me with worry.
As always, it was good to see Joe and Natalia back at their Notting Hill flat, although just for just one last evening. Joe made pasta with tomatoes and olive oil and vinegar, and we drank the whiskey and ate Icelandic licorice and stood out in the cold and said goodbye again.
Madness -- Victoria Gardens
I Know That When I Say This, I May Be Stepping on Pins and Needles, But I Don't Like All These People Slagging Her For Breaking Up the Beatles
October 17, 2010
Iceland Airwaves: Day 5
Final day of the festival. To be honest, there wasn't a lot happening this day, but due to food poisoning, I saw a very small fraction of that small remaining bit.
It took me until at least 11:00 a.m. to get out of bed, and even then was hurting pretty bad. I ate nothing for breakfast, and skipped coffee, as I didn't think I could handle it.
The first big stop of the day was Kolaportið, the Reykjavik flea market open only Saturdays and Sundays, that I have made a point of visiting on each of my trips to Iceland to browse children's books, clothes I probably won't buy, and most importantly dried fish, whale meat, flatbread from Selfoss, licorice candy and maybe even a taste of hákarl (fermented shark). Always a lively spot, held in a warehouse near the port, the flea market is full of Icelandics browsing the various meat and non-meat items, or maybe picking up toys for their children. Because of the state of my stomach on this visit, nothing looked nearly as appealing as it had on other occasions, but I knew how much I would regret not picking up some of the dried fish that I do so much love (the smell of which those around me so much hate) and two packets of this soft, super delicious licorice candy that I've grown to love over the years. So these delicious Icelandic foods I indeed purchased, and how much I have enjoyed them over the last two days.
We stood briefly inside Havari and caught a little bit of Rolo Tomassi (UK), a hardcore metal band, who sounded fairly good, but I still didn't feel great and we didn't stay long.
From here, I took a cab to the home of Rosa and Oskar, Eva's parents, where I had stayed on my previous two trips. While I didn't feel 100% yet, dinner with them was really wonderful. Rosa made a delicious pork dish, with potatoes with cheese, and salad and a cheesecake. While this was probably not the ideal food to eat on a semi-sick stomach, it was so delicious I couldn't resist, and given that I ended up feeling better later, it was probably a good idea that I gave in. We watched a video on youtube about the Imagine Peace Tower built by Yoko Ono in honor of John out on Viðey Island (15 searchlights projected into the sky, giving the impression of a several thousand meter high tower). Sadly, this thing went up on October 9, just a few days before I came, and Yoko did a live performance with Sean, that I think I would have liked to have seen. I think the dates were announced after I booked my trip. Oskar drove me back to Vesturbaer, after a short detour to the harbor to see the actual peace tower (impressive).
With virtually no time to spare, I dropped off my bags and Disa and I hopped in a cab to Venue to meet a friend of hers.
Reykjavik! (Iceland), Venue, roughly 9:00 p.m.
This performance by hard-core punk band, and Airwaves favorite Reykjavik! was my only show for the day, sadly enough, but at the very least it was very good, much like the show I saw on Wednesday. This show was not only "off-venue", meaning that a festival pass was not required to attend, but it was not even listed on the Iceland Airwaves program. I wonder now how many other performances like this there were that I may have missed. I was introduced to lead singer Boas before the show -- seemed like a truly nice dude, despite his totally insane stage presence. This show was actually the premiere for the video for the song "Internet", which took place at a local Reykjavik bar, with many of their friends acting as wildly dancing, beer spraying, vodka guzzling fans. After premiering the video on a screen, the band played a few more songs, and finished off by playing "Internet" live while the video played on the screen, which was super awesome. Especially since they somehow managed to sync almost perfectly with the video performance. At one point they asked for requests and someone shouted out "Kate Bush"! I didn't realize that this was the name of one of their songs. Here's the video for "Internet" -- the crowd wasn't quite this crazy on Sunday night, but I'd say Thursday night got pretty close to this:
Reykjavík! - 'INTERNET'
Reykjavik! | Myspace Music Videos
Reykjavik would be playing 45 minutes later in the club Boston, but we attempted instead to see Dan Deacon and then FM Belfast (supposedly one of Iceland's best bands) at NASA to close off the festival. We walked through cold rain and stood in a long line in front of a really annoying group engaging in an incredibly banal cultural exchange and waited for about 45 minutes without hardly moving. Instead of the wool socks I had worn the other days, I wore ordinary cotton socks and Converses on Sunday and felt the cold water soaking through as I waited.
So we gave up. Kind of a shame that Sunday night ended up being a bit of a dud (Reykjavik! was great, but that's only one band, you know?) but I can't complain. The festival was one of the highlights of my trip, I attended some exceptional live performance, met some great foreigners and tourists, as well as spent quality time with the Icelandics already near and dear.
I had one half day left in Reykjavik. Until the next trip, of course.
Barenaked Ladies -- Be My Yoko Ono
Iceland Airwaves: Day 5
Final day of the festival. To be honest, there wasn't a lot happening this day, but due to food poisoning, I saw a very small fraction of that small remaining bit.
It took me until at least 11:00 a.m. to get out of bed, and even then was hurting pretty bad. I ate nothing for breakfast, and skipped coffee, as I didn't think I could handle it.
The first big stop of the day was Kolaportið, the Reykjavik flea market open only Saturdays and Sundays, that I have made a point of visiting on each of my trips to Iceland to browse children's books, clothes I probably won't buy, and most importantly dried fish, whale meat, flatbread from Selfoss, licorice candy and maybe even a taste of hákarl (fermented shark). Always a lively spot, held in a warehouse near the port, the flea market is full of Icelandics browsing the various meat and non-meat items, or maybe picking up toys for their children. Because of the state of my stomach on this visit, nothing looked nearly as appealing as it had on other occasions, but I knew how much I would regret not picking up some of the dried fish that I do so much love (the smell of which those around me so much hate) and two packets of this soft, super delicious licorice candy that I've grown to love over the years. So these delicious Icelandic foods I indeed purchased, and how much I have enjoyed them over the last two days.
We stood briefly inside Havari and caught a little bit of Rolo Tomassi (UK), a hardcore metal band, who sounded fairly good, but I still didn't feel great and we didn't stay long.
From here, I took a cab to the home of Rosa and Oskar, Eva's parents, where I had stayed on my previous two trips. While I didn't feel 100% yet, dinner with them was really wonderful. Rosa made a delicious pork dish, with potatoes with cheese, and salad and a cheesecake. While this was probably not the ideal food to eat on a semi-sick stomach, it was so delicious I couldn't resist, and given that I ended up feeling better later, it was probably a good idea that I gave in. We watched a video on youtube about the Imagine Peace Tower built by Yoko Ono in honor of John out on Viðey Island (15 searchlights projected into the sky, giving the impression of a several thousand meter high tower). Sadly, this thing went up on October 9, just a few days before I came, and Yoko did a live performance with Sean, that I think I would have liked to have seen. I think the dates were announced after I booked my trip. Oskar drove me back to Vesturbaer, after a short detour to the harbor to see the actual peace tower (impressive).
With virtually no time to spare, I dropped off my bags and Disa and I hopped in a cab to Venue to meet a friend of hers.
Reykjavik! (Iceland), Venue, roughly 9:00 p.m.
This performance by hard-core punk band, and Airwaves favorite Reykjavik! was my only show for the day, sadly enough, but at the very least it was very good, much like the show I saw on Wednesday. This show was not only "off-venue", meaning that a festival pass was not required to attend, but it was not even listed on the Iceland Airwaves program. I wonder now how many other performances like this there were that I may have missed. I was introduced to lead singer Boas before the show -- seemed like a truly nice dude, despite his totally insane stage presence. This show was actually the premiere for the video for the song "Internet", which took place at a local Reykjavik bar, with many of their friends acting as wildly dancing, beer spraying, vodka guzzling fans. After premiering the video on a screen, the band played a few more songs, and finished off by playing "Internet" live while the video played on the screen, which was super awesome. Especially since they somehow managed to sync almost perfectly with the video performance. At one point they asked for requests and someone shouted out "Kate Bush"! I didn't realize that this was the name of one of their songs. Here's the video for "Internet" -- the crowd wasn't quite this crazy on Sunday night, but I'd say Thursday night got pretty close to this:
Reykjavík! - 'INTERNET'
Reykjavik! | Myspace Music Videos
Reykjavik would be playing 45 minutes later in the club Boston, but we attempted instead to see Dan Deacon and then FM Belfast (supposedly one of Iceland's best bands) at NASA to close off the festival. We walked through cold rain and stood in a long line in front of a really annoying group engaging in an incredibly banal cultural exchange and waited for about 45 minutes without hardly moving. Instead of the wool socks I had worn the other days, I wore ordinary cotton socks and Converses on Sunday and felt the cold water soaking through as I waited.
So we gave up. Kind of a shame that Sunday night ended up being a bit of a dud (Reykjavik! was great, but that's only one band, you know?) but I can't complain. The festival was one of the highlights of my trip, I attended some exceptional live performance, met some great foreigners and tourists, as well as spent quality time with the Icelandics already near and dear.
I had one half day left in Reykjavik. Until the next trip, of course.
Barenaked Ladies -- Be My Yoko Ono
Monday, October 18, 2010
Yea, I Know It's Stupid, I Just Gotta See it For Myself
October 16, 2010
Iceland Airwaves: Day 4
Here´s a day that started very well, and ended on the poor side. Not to worry, not poor enough to spoil the trip or even the festival, but enough to cut a promising Saturday night short. The seeds of the evening´s misfortune were planted in the morning with breakfast.
Pancakes with butter, cheese, sprinkles, whipped cream, jam and...hangikjöt (smoked lamb). Combined, these make a rather delicious combination. Even the hangikjöt tasted good.
Then I helped set up a washer machine. I wasn't super good at this, even though it involved not much more than unscrewing some screws and hooking up some tubes to the wall. This was not the highlight of the day.
After the semi-big previous night, Disa, T and I took a field trip to the Vesturbaejarlaugin, the public swimming pools just a 15 minute walk from the apartment. This very Reykjavik experience had somehow missed me over my previous 3 trips, most likely because I've spent so little time in Reykjavik itself. Spent the time sitting in some super hot pools (40 degrees centigrade), and listening to some apparently very funny conversations by the other Icelandics sitting there. One of the pools had a jet that was exceptionally strong. Afterward, I drank a Pepsi and read Grapevine's preview of the Airwaves Festival.
I tried to make Saturday's afternoon easy by sticking around for the Canadian Blast! at the Ring Lounge at Hresso (6 Canadian bands over 5 hours). Of course, I ran into my Canadian friends there.
Timber Timbre (Canada), Ring Lounge at Hresso, 3:00 p.m.
This show was so packed I could hardly see the band, thus my excuse for the crappy photo. To me, it sounded like fairly standard indie rock, maybe a little like Devotchka. The band featured a violin.
Diamond Rings (Toronto), Ring Lounge at Hresso, 3:50 p.m.
One of the highlights of the day, maybe even of the festival. This super young looking guy from Toronto comes out in a leather jacket over a purple t-shirt, purple socks, with a purple guitar and purple guitar strap, super new-wavy hairdo, shaved on the sides, long on top, blue eye shadow amongst other makeup. My first impression was, oh boy, this guy is going to be a bit of a joke, what's up with the outfit, especially when he's up there all by himself. Now, while I admit to being a sucker for electro style music, he was super good, especially when it comes to showmanship. True, his voice sounded more or less like Julian Casablancas, and his look came straight from 1981, but between the on-stage dancing and guitar shaking, and flawless delivery, he had me and just about everyone else I knew dancing. After one of his songs he announced that "That was an Usher cover...just kidding...but that's what I was going for."
Basia Bulat (Canada), Ring Lounge at Hresso, 5:30 p.m.
I'd be lying if I didn't admit that Basia Bulat's presence at the festival was one of the moving inspirations for my decision to make the trip. I've been listening to the 4 or so songs she recorded for Daytrotter back in March 2008 (including a ridiculously good cover of Daniel Johnston's "True Love Will Find You In the End"). Basia Bulat has this amazingly rich, soulful voice, which she generously uses for both covers and originals, and accompanies her voice with autoharp (yes!) or guitar. Here, she was further accompanied by a violinist and a ukulele player, both also singing harmonies. Almost as soon as she started singing, the crowd appeared transfixed by her voice, shaking their heads in disbelief. But she makes it look so easy. She says "This is very exciting...I've always wanted to go to Iceland." She sings a pretty Polish song from the 1960s about a couple at the zoo looking at the animals, looking back at them (who is the observer and who is the observed?!!) Sadly, she didn't play "True Love" but I was very happy.
Pancakes with butter, cheese, sprinkles, whipped cream, jam and...hangikjöt (smoked lamb). Combined, these make a rather delicious combination. Even the hangikjöt tasted good.
Then I helped set up a washer machine. I wasn't super good at this, even though it involved not much more than unscrewing some screws and hooking up some tubes to the wall. This was not the highlight of the day.
After the semi-big previous night, Disa, T and I took a field trip to the Vesturbaejarlaugin, the public swimming pools just a 15 minute walk from the apartment. This very Reykjavik experience had somehow missed me over my previous 3 trips, most likely because I've spent so little time in Reykjavik itself. Spent the time sitting in some super hot pools (40 degrees centigrade), and listening to some apparently very funny conversations by the other Icelandics sitting there. One of the pools had a jet that was exceptionally strong. Afterward, I drank a Pepsi and read Grapevine's preview of the Airwaves Festival.
I tried to make Saturday's afternoon easy by sticking around for the Canadian Blast! at the Ring Lounge at Hresso (6 Canadian bands over 5 hours). Of course, I ran into my Canadian friends there.
Timber Timbre (Canada), Ring Lounge at Hresso, 3:00 p.m.
This show was so packed I could hardly see the band, thus my excuse for the crappy photo. To me, it sounded like fairly standard indie rock, maybe a little like Devotchka. The band featured a violin.
Diamond Rings (Toronto), Ring Lounge at Hresso, 3:50 p.m.
One of the highlights of the day, maybe even of the festival. This super young looking guy from Toronto comes out in a leather jacket over a purple t-shirt, purple socks, with a purple guitar and purple guitar strap, super new-wavy hairdo, shaved on the sides, long on top, blue eye shadow amongst other makeup. My first impression was, oh boy, this guy is going to be a bit of a joke, what's up with the outfit, especially when he's up there all by himself. Now, while I admit to being a sucker for electro style music, he was super good, especially when it comes to showmanship. True, his voice sounded more or less like Julian Casablancas, and his look came straight from 1981, but between the on-stage dancing and guitar shaking, and flawless delivery, he had me and just about everyone else I knew dancing. After one of his songs he announced that "That was an Usher cover...just kidding...but that's what I was going for."
Basia Bulat (Canada), Ring Lounge at Hresso, 5:30 p.m.
I'd be lying if I didn't admit that Basia Bulat's presence at the festival was one of the moving inspirations for my decision to make the trip. I've been listening to the 4 or so songs she recorded for Daytrotter back in March 2008 (including a ridiculously good cover of Daniel Johnston's "True Love Will Find You In the End"). Basia Bulat has this amazingly rich, soulful voice, which she generously uses for both covers and originals, and accompanies her voice with autoharp (yes!) or guitar. Here, she was further accompanied by a violinist and a ukulele player, both also singing harmonies. Almost as soon as she started singing, the crowd appeared transfixed by her voice, shaking their heads in disbelief. But she makes it look so easy. She says "This is very exciting...I've always wanted to go to Iceland." She sings a pretty Polish song from the 1960s about a couple at the zoo looking at the animals, looking back at them (who is the observer and who is the observed?!!) Sadly, she didn't play "True Love" but I was very happy.
Rökkurró (Iceland), Reykjavik Downtown Hostel, 6:00 p.m.
Finally, I made it into this tiny venue after having failed the day before. Coffee and beer sold to the left, a big glass window to the street on the right. I'll use one of my less favorite overused descriptions of vocals -- "ethereal" -- to describe Hildur Kristin's vocals. I think this band also helped to exemplify the idea of "krutt" (cutesy) introduced to me at the Olafur Arnalds Q&A, which I think you can get a sense of from the description of the band on their Myspace bio: "Rökkurró’s melancholic serenades are evocative of the cold and desolate landscapes of their distant homeland. Mesmerising tones and swooping strings projected against a bleak and solitary Nordic backdrop. And yet, unique warmth pervades Rökkurró’s music owed to the fragile and soothing voice of Hildur Kristín Stefánsdóttir." See what I mean? I think many of the Icelandic bands are fighting against this stereotype specifically when it comes to Icelandic music...glaciers, desolation, etc. But still, hey, I liked them. The vocalist also played an electric cello, sang in Icelandic (those strongly pronounced "r"s really add something special to Icelandic language pop). Here I ran into Pontus (Swedish from Gothenburg), a guy I had met on Thursday at Hresso, and questioned him about the fancy camera he was using to snap photos of the band. Turns out he's blogging the festival too (check for some nice pictures). Before the show was over, Pontus and I booked it across town (15 minutes) to see Angel Deradoorian at a bookstore on Laugavegur, but she had canceled.
HAM (Iceland), Nikita, 7:00 p.m.
HAM is an Icelandic heavy metal band from the late 1980s and early 1990s, which reunited to open for Rammstein in 2001. Apparently, extremely popular at the time and still is. Singer Ottar Proppe is even a top member of the Best Party, currently ruling over Reykjavik under the fearless leadership of comedian and mayor Jon Gnarr. HAM seems to alternate between operatic singing and more metalish screaming, keeps a consistent hard rock guitar with heads consistently head banging. The venue was outdoors, on a stage before a large crowd of very enthusiastic fans, including a small cluster of children with earmuffs on.
Here, Disa met me and we walked to dinner (didn't catch the name of the place), but where I ate a really delicious blue cheese hamburger. Under the most current analysis, this meal was blameless for later misfortune, but it was during this meal that the misfortune first reared its head when stomach illness first began to be felt.
We walked through the cold rain to the Reykjavik Art Museum (distantly following a marching band), to catch any of the several bands playing before Robyn would go on at midnight. For the most part, it was not to be. We spent some time sitting on the steps inside the museum, not really paying attention to the music. We did sport Icelandic celebrity Ragnhildur Gísladóttir, singer of the song about the beauty queen smiling through her tears that I liked so much at the Hamburger Factory back in July. But soon the physical pain grew even more unbearable for both. Migrated upstairs to a hallway and lay down, trying not to feel the agony of whatever it was.
Robyn (Swedish), Reykjavik Art Museum, 12:00 a.m.
By midnight, we moved to a balcony to try to watch the Robyn performance, which started about 45 minutes late. I had been looking forward to this show for well over a month, and I'd say that if one performer inspired my trip more than any other, it was Robyn. I think her album Body Talk Part 1 (I haven't had the opportunity to download Part 2, as I was already on the road without a laptop at the time it was released) is one of the best of the year, and the single "Dancing on My Own" was regularly played by me during my many long, solitary hikes around Europe. For this reason, I fought against the pain caused by (according to the most current, and likely theory), the food poisonous lamb I ate for breakfast, and sat through the first 5 or so tracks. Now, it seems to me that Robyn doesn't do a lot of her own singing on stage, which may be typical of pop stars these days, mainly playing the role of "performer". It seemed that for the amount of dancing she was doing, it would have been impossible for her voice to have been so full (especially when it is not so terribly full to begin with). She had a full band behind her, including two drummers. I wished I had been up front, dancing, and singing right up with her, but it was just not possible. Finally, we gave in to the pain and headed home. Good thing I'll be seeing her in L.A. not so far from now.
Robyn -- Dancing On My Own
Finally, I made it into this tiny venue after having failed the day before. Coffee and beer sold to the left, a big glass window to the street on the right. I'll use one of my less favorite overused descriptions of vocals -- "ethereal" -- to describe Hildur Kristin's vocals. I think this band also helped to exemplify the idea of "krutt" (cutesy) introduced to me at the Olafur Arnalds Q&A, which I think you can get a sense of from the description of the band on their Myspace bio: "Rökkurró’s melancholic serenades are evocative of the cold and desolate landscapes of their distant homeland. Mesmerising tones and swooping strings projected against a bleak and solitary Nordic backdrop. And yet, unique warmth pervades Rökkurró’s music owed to the fragile and soothing voice of Hildur Kristín Stefánsdóttir." See what I mean? I think many of the Icelandic bands are fighting against this stereotype specifically when it comes to Icelandic music...glaciers, desolation, etc. But still, hey, I liked them. The vocalist also played an electric cello, sang in Icelandic (those strongly pronounced "r"s really add something special to Icelandic language pop). Here I ran into Pontus (Swedish from Gothenburg), a guy I had met on Thursday at Hresso, and questioned him about the fancy camera he was using to snap photos of the band. Turns out he's blogging the festival too (check for some nice pictures). Before the show was over, Pontus and I booked it across town (15 minutes) to see Angel Deradoorian at a bookstore on Laugavegur, but she had canceled.
HAM (Iceland), Nikita, 7:00 p.m.
HAM is an Icelandic heavy metal band from the late 1980s and early 1990s, which reunited to open for Rammstein in 2001. Apparently, extremely popular at the time and still is. Singer Ottar Proppe is even a top member of the Best Party, currently ruling over Reykjavik under the fearless leadership of comedian and mayor Jon Gnarr. HAM seems to alternate between operatic singing and more metalish screaming, keeps a consistent hard rock guitar with heads consistently head banging. The venue was outdoors, on a stage before a large crowd of very enthusiastic fans, including a small cluster of children with earmuffs on.
Here, Disa met me and we walked to dinner (didn't catch the name of the place), but where I ate a really delicious blue cheese hamburger. Under the most current analysis, this meal was blameless for later misfortune, but it was during this meal that the misfortune first reared its head when stomach illness first began to be felt.
We walked through the cold rain to the Reykjavik Art Museum (distantly following a marching band), to catch any of the several bands playing before Robyn would go on at midnight. For the most part, it was not to be. We spent some time sitting on the steps inside the museum, not really paying attention to the music. We did sport Icelandic celebrity Ragnhildur Gísladóttir, singer of the song about the beauty queen smiling through her tears that I liked so much at the Hamburger Factory back in July. But soon the physical pain grew even more unbearable for both. Migrated upstairs to a hallway and lay down, trying not to feel the agony of whatever it was.
Robyn (Swedish), Reykjavik Art Museum, 12:00 a.m.
By midnight, we moved to a balcony to try to watch the Robyn performance, which started about 45 minutes late. I had been looking forward to this show for well over a month, and I'd say that if one performer inspired my trip more than any other, it was Robyn. I think her album Body Talk Part 1 (I haven't had the opportunity to download Part 2, as I was already on the road without a laptop at the time it was released) is one of the best of the year, and the single "Dancing on My Own" was regularly played by me during my many long, solitary hikes around Europe. For this reason, I fought against the pain caused by (according to the most current, and likely theory), the food poisonous lamb I ate for breakfast, and sat through the first 5 or so tracks. Now, it seems to me that Robyn doesn't do a lot of her own singing on stage, which may be typical of pop stars these days, mainly playing the role of "performer". It seemed that for the amount of dancing she was doing, it would have been impossible for her voice to have been so full (especially when it is not so terribly full to begin with). She had a full band behind her, including two drummers. I wished I had been up front, dancing, and singing right up with her, but it was just not possible. Finally, we gave in to the pain and headed home. Good thing I'll be seeing her in L.A. not so far from now.
Robyn -- Dancing On My Own
And We Can Act Like We Come From Out of This World Leave the Real One Far Behind
October 15, 2010
Here´s a video of Bloodgroup performing "Safety Dance" on another occasion:
Iceland Airwaves: Day 3
The warm woolen gloves, and wool cap that I have been carrying semi-uselessly around Europe are useful once more. I´ve left my cheap umbrella at the apartment in Vesturbaer and instead travel around with a borrowed sweater and green hooded raincoat. Of course, all of these items are quickly removed and folded upon entering a venue, but for outside times, they are quite necessary here in semi-cold and often rainy Reykjavik.
Like the day before, Friday (the first "real" day of the festival where a lot of people start coming out), I spent the morning quietly, eating toast by myself, updating this blog (I did it in about an hour and a half this time, an improvement, let´s see if I can get this one done in less!), listening to some of the Icelandic punk music that had been so inspiring the night before. Once again, took the 20 minute walk into town, breathing in the fresh cold air and thinking about how much I just wanted to stay and enjoy this life. Just like the previous two days, I stopped for a pylsa (hot dog) at Baejarins Beztu. Just as before, I wandered the streets before the first gig of the day. I got into town maybe a little too early (noonish?) so I had lots of time to walk in and out of the Eymundsson bookstore, the supermarket, and the harbor area.
Yuni in Taxco (USA), Havari, 2:00 p.m.
My first impression of this Seattle band was as a fairly standard modern psychedelic band, heavy guitars, a tambourine, a theremin seeming machine. While this wasn´t exactly an inaccurate impression, after the band corrected a problem with low vocals in the first two tracks, the performance became very high quality (I know I say this about almost every band, but it´s true every time!). At one point, the lead singer observed that "This is the coolest record shop I´ve ever been to. There´s not a bad record on these walls". This sentiment was fairly typical of everybody I met at the festival. During the last song "King of Borneo", the guy on the left was heavily featured on super intense vocals, causing his face to turn red. This song was awesome.
I walked down Laugavegur and grabbed a double espresso. For the millionth time, I ran into an American guy from DC and his wife.
Murder (Denmark), Sjoppan, 2:40, p.m.
Despite the name, Murder was a pretty mellow Danish duo, who more or less completely filled up the Sjoppan hair salon on Laugavegur. These two guys harmonized vocally, accompanied by acoustic guitar, kind of reminded me of Iron and Wine. At the very least they would have very easily fit in with the bearded guy, folkish, pretty singing movement that got so popular around 2008, but I couldn´t get terribly excited about them. The room was filled with the smell of hair and hair product. I ran into the Canadian guy from the other night and we discussed our previous nights, as well as lamented the fact that neither had ever been in a fist fight. I may try to stay in touch with this guy and his wife. The room was so crowded that I was stuck behind a post and couldn´t get a picture.
Bastardgeist (USA), Sjoppan, 4:00 p.m.
Another duo, this time from Chicago, but in my opinion much more exciting. Tall skinny girl, with super skinny legs and shortish blonde guy with an intense expression, carrying all sorts of electronic equipment to produce the blips, and beats, and fuzz that backed up their vocal harmonies. I wish I knew what those machines were called, because they were super cool. According to my notes one of them was using a handheld synthesizer keyboard. At times their sound reminded me of Sade, other times more like Massive Attack. While at times their vocals got out of sync, I liked them a lot.
Chateau Marmont (France), Ring Lounge at Hresso, 4:00 p.m.
On the occasions on which I hear the complaint that DJ performances are pointless in that the DJ doesn´t "do" anything besides play pre-recorded music, I explain that this is not the case, and that in fact there is a lot going on behind the console. Not in the case of Chateau Marmont! One of about 5 bands featured in the French Showcase at Hresso, their electronic music, which alternatively sounded like Kraftwerk, Daft Punk or even Phil Collins, was really good. It just didn´t look like they were doing anything besides standing behind the turn tables and computers. Based on my photograph, you can see that they look like nice guys. And I think I´d give their music another listen once I get home.
Gable (France), Ring Lounge at Hresso, 5:00 p.m.
These guys (two bearded guys, one tall, one stouter, and a girl) were absolutely ridiculous, but in a good way. Experimental, avant garde sounding sort of like Einar Örn´s contribution to the Sugarcubes, started off with the shouting of some nonsense (in heavily accented English), to the arrhythmic beating of handheld drums. Later there was some guitar strumming, more absurdist lyrics, some handheld horns, a cover of Elvis´"All Shook Up" while the singer wore an Elvis mask. It was really cold outside, but the Minnesotan and I were enjoying the hilarity of Gable, and despite the potential pretentiousness of it, they were entertaining as heck. The blank stare of the guy on the left of the photo persisted throughout the show.
And here began a not productive break in my festival. I walked to the Reykjavik Downtown Hostel to see Haldis Huld (said to be amazing and playing at 6:00), but she wasn´t on yet. Olafur Arnalds had just gone on, for a semi-improvised set, but neither I, nor my Canadian friends, nor the Dutch guy from Zeeland I met, nor the confrontational Australian were able to get in. Instead we stood outside and chit chatted in the freezing cold, occasionally, placing our ears on the window to try to listen in, and failed.
I returned to Hresso, grabbed another beer, and then met up at about 7:00 p.m. with Audur and Gummi again for dinner. We talked about their trip starting the next day to Paris, I ordered plokkfiskur (fish stew), and it was a very pleasant time. I do hope to see them again before too long.
I stepped outside for a bit to wait for Disa (who met up at around 8:30 p.m.) and ran into the very short, cross-eyed and very, very drunk Icelandic guy I had met previously at the bus station after I returned from Laugavegurinn. He seemed to want something from me, but I didn´t want to give him anything, so we sort of stared each other down for about 5 minutes without speaking. It was a strange long moment.
When Disa arrived, we walked to Iðno. It was raining, kind of cold, and there was a line outside.
This venue was located near the lake, a big white building, which I believe to be a theatre. The cloak room had no clerk -- just two long rows of hangers upon which to place one´s jacket. Another example of the honor system working quite well in Iceland. We met Disa´s friend who worked there, who gave us each 2 glasses of white wine. Though the place was packed, we made it up fairly close to the stage where Mugison, a large band was playing. While on the record they sounded fairly folksy, almost like Sufjian Stevens (yet another), on stage they sounded more like the Black Keys -- loud, blues rock. For one song they brought out a big bald guy who sang along hard core punk style (this song was introduced (in Icelandic) as a "song about love" -- everyone laughed. For the last song, they brought out a choir of girls to sing a song about the lead singer´s favorite aunt who had recently died. I´m not sure if the decreasing quality of my photos has to do with my camera getting dirty, the venues being darker, or me just doing a bad job at it.
Bloodgroup (Iceland), NASA, 9:40
I know, this is now my third time seeing Bloodgroup, but this time only stayed for about 15 minutes. Mostly it was the same material as the previous shows, but this time they did an excellent cover of Men Without Hats´ "The Safety Dance", which was very satisfying, and very appropriate for the sound of the band.
Here´s a video of Bloodgroup performing "Safety Dance" on another occasion:
Teeth (UK), Venue, 10:30 p.m.
This electro (I think they were a duo) were okay. I was most interested by the fact that the guy in the group was dancing around with a 12" macbook in his hands, kind of reminded me of walking around my apartment back in the day with the same small laptop. Fairly typical electro-dance music, but after the shot of Opal Vodka Shot and the shot of Topas I had before the performance, I don´t know how closely I was paying attention.
Everything, Everything (UK), Reykjavik Art Museum, 10:50 p.m.
I´m kind of embarrassed to report that I don´t remember so much about this performance. They seemed good, I recall dancing, I recall everybody yelling and screaming, and I recall people seeming really happy. But it was a huge venue, lights were flashing everywhere, and what can I say -- I was just having a good time and not worrying too much about taking notes.
Hurts (UK), Reykjavik Art Museum, 11:50 p.m.
Hurts were also good, and I have a slightly better recollection of them. They were compared in the Airwaves booklet to the Bronski Beat and Pet Shop Boys, but I found this comparison to be somewhat weak. Just because the guys are dressed in suits, are of slightly ambiguous sexuality and use a lot of electronic backing does not the Pet Shop Boys make. But yes, it was a bit spectacular show, everybody went nuts and I had a great time.
Men Without Hats -- The Safety Dance
Friday, October 15, 2010
Reykjavik, O Reykjavik
October 14, 2010
Who knew that I´d enjoy a screamo show this much. These guys all seemed super young, but the screaming singing, thrashing around on and off the stage and headbang-inducing guitar playing was awesome. I don´t know if my ears are still ringing from this or from the late punk shows of the evening. I met two El Salvadoran guys studying in Reykjavik during this show and asked if they know anywhere around here to get a good pupusa. I think my first beer of the evening was at this show.
Vonbrigði -- O Reykjavik
Iceland Airwaves: Day 2
Another mindblowing day spent with the Icelandic music scene. I hate to admit it, having spent time on the far fringes of the Los Angeles slash Silverlake slash Echo Park scene, but the Reykjavik local music scene is ridiculously good, and by my account so far even (dare I say it) better. I have seen well over 10 bands in these two days, probably something more like 15, and not a single one has been worse than "pretty good". Most have been "very good" or "extremely good", despite covering a wide variety of genres (folk, punk, death metal, electronic, indie rock, classical). The "closeness" of the people involved is even more striking. Everybody, whether in a band or not (and most people seem to have been in a band at some point in their life careers) knows each other, and the amount of knowledge about local bands possessed by even the most lay citizens is much more than would expected from their counterparts back home. And all the venues are in walking distance from each other. And high levels of technical competence and professionalism appear also to be commonplace. To be honest, I´ve seen a lot of really, really amazing bands in L.A., but I´ve also seen a good number that were technically very poor, that were unable to hold it together on stage, or that were just plain bland. We´ll see if this comparison evens out after I see some more L.A. bands when I get back.
As I said before, I started my day by spending over 2 hours writing up the day before. I did not think it would take so long! Even though I woke up at a reasonably early hour, I was hardly able to make it to the first show of the day at 1:00 p.m.!
Olafur Arnalds (Iceland), Nordic House, 1:00 p.m.
Olafur Arnalds cut his teeth playing punk and death metal as a teenager before branching out into the classical music that has made him even more famous. This performance was located in the Nordic House, one of the buildings on the University of Reykjavik campus, high ceiling, wood walls, packed full of chairs. As Olafur played the piano, accompanied by a string quartet, the lead melody switching between him and one of the violinists, the room quietly observed, photographers snapping away from the edges of the room. Despite feeling that I should enjoy this music more, I sometimes can´t help but feel it sounds like backround music, and not the sort of thing to which I want to pay full attention. Perhaps confirming my sense, at the following Q and A session with one of the writers from Icelandic publication Grapevine, Olafur admitted that what he really wants is for his music to be used in a car commercial. He described (and complained about) Icelandic performers being "krutt" in interviews. I believe the word translates directly as "cute", but I think "twee" might work as well. Seems to involve a sort of false humility, to further the stereotype of Icelanders as otherworldly, glacier dwelling, elvin creatures. Everybody in the room seemed to know each other, whether from the label, or other bands, or from Grapevine.
I arrived somewhat late for the Film performance, and was slightly sorry to have done so as I thought they were pretty good. I mean, the sound wasn´t anything I´d never heard of before (they kind of reminded me of former sax teacher Jay Stolmack´s band "Velvet Chain", who never made it big, but I actually liked). For one of the later tracks in the set, lead singer Etten introduced with "here´s a song you can dance to. I know it´s a little early but you have to prepare for tonight, right?" These were actually wise words spoken, given how the night would turn up. During this song, a fat, nerdy guy with glasses started dancing with her like a crazy guy. I tried to get a picture of it, but failed to get a good one. I gave my email address to a photographer I saw who seemed to have captured it (everyone in the room was amused), and will post it when I receive it. On the final song, the vocals vaguely reminded me of Madonna´s "Bedtime Story".
In this tightly packed coffee shop on Laugavegur, a soft in the heart crowd watched Svavar and Rob trade sets of heartfelt folkish singer songwritey music. Svavar played the ukulele and guitar and sounded like an Icelandic Sufjian Stevens, also demanding much engagement by the audience (singing along, etc.) He wasn´t wearing his shoes either. At one point he asked that we all sing along for the "la la la" part of the song because the syllable "la" can mean just about anything to whoever is singing it. So we did this. He joked about the worst thing about playing in coffee houses is the sound of the steam wand going "chshssshshshshshsh" during latte making, right in the middle of the song. Nic Harcourt would have lost his socks over this guy. I much preferred the Icelandic songs he sang over the English -- it covers up the cheesiness of the lyrics and leaves the actually pretty melodies to be enjoyed. And I think it is the best sounding language for songs that I know. Rob was in a wheelchair, and played the guitar. Given the wheelchair, I´d be tempted to compare him to Vic Chessnut, but you know what, it just wouldn´t be an apt comparison. This guy was much more upbeat, without seeming cheesy, although the lyrics were all clearly very personal. He seemed, fortunately, kind of happy. I noticed during this show that a lot of people at Airwaves have notebooks, not just me. And everyone is snapping pictures (as am I) for the first few minutes of each set.
Zach and Foes (Faroe Islands), Sjoppan, 3:30 p.m.
On of the best performances of the off venue side of the festival so far. Sjoppan (which just means "shop" in Icelandic) is a hair salon on the second story of a pizzeria on Laugavegur. Zach and Foes´ rockabilly slash punk set up....I want to use the expression "blew the roof off" of Sjoppan, but it just sounds so cheesy. But I can´t think of another way to say it, so I´ll stick with that, with the noted qualification. Anyway, Black Lips step aside! Ack! Did it again...Well, what to say, these guys rocked (or "Rokk'ed"?) super hard, even the baby in the audience seemed to be enjoying it.
Zach had an awesome mustache and denim shirt. Maybe I need to purchase a denim shirt? And how did they find this guy on the Faroe Islands?
S.H. Draumur (Iceland), Havari, 4:00 p.m.
S.H. Draumur (translated, S.S. Dreamer, like a ship) is a legendary Icelandic punk band, formed in 1982, released one album in 1987 and then broke up in 1988. For the first time in 17 years they were rehearsing, and I think the Airwaves reunion show received quite a bit of buzz here in Reykjavik, at least among the crowd old enough to remember them. I had heard one song of theirs while hanging out with the guides on the Laugavegurinn trek, and Disa had described them as one of her favorite bands from growing up, so I decided to catch them at this small venue before seeing them later in the evening at NASA. Because the place was so small, and there was no raised stage, I was unable to see them (or obtain a picture), but I could tell this was going to be a good night. How to describe well played punk music? Well, I can´t. Supposedly the lyrics are clever (all in Icelandic), but I could tell the melodies were catchy and the guy´s got a really cool sounding voice. Sounds a bit like Televison, I think.
Endless Dark (Iceland=, Ring Lounge at Hresso, 5:00 p.m.
Who knew that I´d enjoy a screamo show this much. These guys all seemed super young, but the screaming singing, thrashing around on and off the stage and headbang-inducing guitar playing was awesome. I don´t know if my ears are still ringing from this or from the late punk shows of the evening. I met two El Salvadoran guys studying in Reykjavik during this show and asked if they know anywhere around here to get a good pupusa. I think my first beer of the evening was at this show.
[Break to socialize.]
Sjöfn and her friend Björg showed up during the Endless Dark performance and we stepped outside of the tent to have a few beers and catch up. Björg had the most British accent I´ve ever heard coming from an Icelander. Around 6:30 we left for the Iceland Bar (one of the many, many good Reykjavik restaurants I´ve never visited) for dinner with some other friends of theirs. I ate a reindeer burger, which was delicious. During dinner I had one of my occasional daydreams about how it would be nice to stay in Reykjavik for much longer, but I let it pass.
Disa had agreed to meet me at the festival bracelet pickup location at 8:00 p.m., so I stepped away from dinner for a minute, and then brought her back to meet them. Of course, she already knew one of them. The social world here is unbelievably small.
We walked to the Reykjavik Art Museum (big venue) where Hundreds were playing, but didn´t really pay attention, and realized that we had probably get to NASA soon before it filled up. It´s around here that my handwritten notes end for the evening.
Reykjavik! (Iceland), NASA, 9:10
Disa told me the lead singer of this band was a really nice guy. He´s also an incredibly intense performer. I can´t remember the last time I went to a hard core punk show (was possibly the Warped Tour 10 years ago) and probably thought that day would never come again. But no...we pushed to the front of the crowd and for the entirety of the set we were thrashing around like maniacs, everyone was pushing and showing, the singer crowd surfed and screamed, his microphone cord snagging people as he wandered around the floor. This was an amazingly intense, sweat soaked show. I think the guy from Grapevine who interviewed Olafur Arnalds was in the band, but now his eyes looked crazed. It was a good thing that we left our jackets in the corner of the club.
S.H. Draumur, NASA, 11:00 p.m.
It´s not a great picture, but he looks a little bit like a thin Frank Black, right? Amazing, amazing performance. Again, crowd was insane (or maybe just we were? it was hard to tell at that point), punk rock songs but more interesting melodically and lyrically (or so I presume) than usual. I plan on purchasing the album before I go home.
Vonbrigði -- O Reykjavik
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)