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August 10th. On a Plane from Copenhagen to London

So, three Scandinavian festivals over the weekend, and something of a mixed bag.  Way Out West in Gothenburg, Sweden takes the crown or, I guess, kronur, for being the highlight in pretty much every respect.  Site, performance, other bands on the bill, weather, even catering and leisure opportunities; it was pretty much great all round.  The only thing against it was a preponderance of wasps, which seem to accompany your every move, at least while eating/drinking.

One of the best things was the discovery of a game called Kubb, which apparently never travelled much beyond Sweden, but is now on sale in Ikea stores everywhere.  It basically involves trying to knock over carefully placed wooden blocks with other wooden batons. I suppose it adheres loosely to some of the principles of croquet and boules, in that you are propelling something towards something else, but whatever, we’d never played it before and found ourselves quickly addicted and becoming highly competitive with each other.  I would suggest all festival organisers get themselves down to their local Swedish superstore and buy some sets for their backstage areas, for a very modest investment bands will go away with a very good impression of your event.

In fact, when we got to Beat Day in Copenhagen yesterday, we asked the folks organising that festival if they knew of the game and could perhaps find us a set. Apparently in Denmark it is called Viking, and is not as popular as in Sweden, but still one of them was kind enough to go home and give us their own personal set to take on the rest of the tour with us.  Sure is a less dangerous pastime than the amateur, drunken gym we usually fall back on in times of pre-stage boredom.

That said, we still managed some gym practise while waiting on the kuppa.  Jonsi showed us how to balance horizontally on two hands by wedging them under you rib cage, and then did a similar trick with elbows wedged in knees. Edda took pix maybe I can get her to upload.  Ingi – always game for anything – offered to try and fit himself inside his sousaphone case for our enjoyment and delight, but alas even his slim hips prevented proper closure of the case, and we contented ourselves with watching him fail to effect a decent crab lift instead. I wonder what Mercury Rev, seated a few metres away besides their own portacabin made of these highjinks? None of the other bands ever seem to be willing to act quite as stupid as Sigur Ros, which is kind of strange given our reputation as sombre introverts.

Anyway, all the shows were acceptably decent without being mindblowing. The set was mildly tinkered with, but not radically over-hauled; Ny Batteri coming in for Glosoli, which to me represents a positive change.  After Way Out West a bunch of us went off to central Gothenburg to see another band I manage called Fanfarlo.  Paul McAllister, who runs 18 Seconds loves Fanfarlo and thinks they are going to be The Shit.  I tend to agree, obviously.  Jonsi really likes them too, even though he doesn’t appreciate at all Belle & Sebastian or Talking Heads to whom they are most commonly compared.  Maybe Jonsi will do some mixing for us after touring’s done. We’ll see.

Anyway, Simon, who’s the singer in Fanfarlo and is actually from Gothenburg, has become firm friends with Jonsi, so much so that at Latitude Festival a couple of weeks ago they were playing football and Simon cracked Jonsi’s rib in an over-enthusiastic “friendly” tackle.  Fortunately this occurred at the start of a 10-day break in touring, but Jonsi is still using it to elicit sympathy whenever you go to beat him (which obviously as his manager is almost my moral duty).

Earlier at Way Out West, we had had that Paul from Franz Ferdinand onstage to drum with us during Gobbledigook.  This was by way of a return favour from when Orri had joined a phalanx of sticksmen on the FF stage at some Scottish fest a couple of years hence, and him and bloke from red Hot Chili Peppers (urg!) and others I can’t remember bashed their floor toms in time to some old hit or other.  Anyway, Paul was a love and did his best to cope with the complex syncopation of Gobbledigook (joke).  He only used his right hand cos his left had erupted in ugly blisters after their own set earlier in the day.

Me, Orri and Jonsi also made a cissy attempt to get Steve Shelley from Sonic Youth to join in the shenanigans, since they were in the trailer one over from us, but I think we were all a little bit intimated by their cool and so put off asking so long that by the time we’d plucked up courage, Steve had already departed in a mini-van along with the rest of the ‘Youth.  Boo.  His TM (tour manager) was super-nice, however, and said Steve would’ve bene delighted.  Double boo!

Afterwards, the rest of Franz joined us backstage in the popular pursuit of drinking the rider.  They were as nice as you might imagine and didn’t ask us to join them in vodka-soaked tampons inserted rectally like some Scottish bands we can think of. That said, one disgusting habit was investigated at Gothenburg, thanks to the free distribution of tobacco pouches in the catering area. These are small teabag-type affair that you pop under your top lip and allow to seep through the mucus membranes and into your system. They are very salty (to make them in anyway tolerable, I presume) and quickly give you a hit.  Peer group pressure dictated that I try it, but, fuck, it’s repulsive.  Apparently it’s illegal in Iceland, and most of SR seemed to make off with tin after tin of the unctuous preparation.

Oh, I should also mention that we got Orri’s crown back at Way Out West, it having been purloined by an over-eager fan-boy collector at Benecassim in Spain.  There had been an amusing thread on the ‘board about Morrissey (who also played the same fest) supposedly nicking it, and someone had even gone as far photo-shopping it on the old pantomime dame’s coiff.  As someone who used to attend to his lordship’s PR needs, it tickled me enormously.  The queen is dead, so he has no need of Orri’s beloved crown.

Today is Solrun’s birthday, and last night the brass played a moving rendition of the familiar tune backstage after the show to mark the occasion.  There are now only 8 more shows with Amiina, and so there is a certain poignancy, it seems to me at least, about these celebrations.  Amiina just delivered a cover of a track from The Nightmare Before Christmas, for some anniversary edition of the DVD coming later in the year (before Christmas I imagine).  They did Dr Finkelstein In the Forest I believe. Haven’t heard it, but bet it’s good. Look out for it.

Three days back, at Oya fest in suburban Oslo, some of us had watched The National go through their paces. We’ve known the twins from The National for a while now, and Jonsi has just donated a Riceboy Sleeps track to a Red Hot aids charity compilation being put together by Bryce from the band.  This is an early glimpse in the forthcoming work from Riceboy, which for those who don’t know, are Jonsi and his boyfriend Alex Somers. Again, please look out for Red Hot album when it’s out, which I’m assured is v soon.

As most of you probably know, Alex also plays in Parachutes, with his good friend Scott. They are just about to embark on a warm-up tour of the States (18 shows in 18 days!) to prepare themselves for supporting Sigur Ros in September.  Check dates on their Myspace (find through Sigur Ros Best Friends, since there’s another band called Parachutes of an inferior calibre), and if you can, go and give them a warm hug, they are a fine band and lovely people.  I was just listening to some mixes on the plane to Australia that Jonsi is doing for their forthcoming album and can tell you it’s going to be a real corker. Seriously, it’s ace.

Also at Oya Jonsi had had a long chat with Kevin Shields from My Bloody Valentine, all of whom had come down to the site a day early just to see us.  As a big MBV fan, I think Jonsi was pretty psyched by this turn of events, and we made a mental note to ask him if he might want to contribute to a SR remix project we’ve loosely started thinking about.

What else?  We got a link to a crazy advert sent to us from Spain, which flagrantly rips off Olsen Olsen. Sometimes it makes you a little despairing that you forego so much to not let advertisers cheapen your music and then by changing one note here they can absolutely emulate the spirit of your creation while giving you nothing. I will attempt to start a little sub-section of the site where you can go and look at the numerous SR rip offs circulating in the commercial world. It’s a sad state of affairs, but presumably these people have no trouble sleeping. I couldn’t.

To add a layer of meaning to this, over the weekend the band turned down a bunch of $$$ for CSI Miami to use Fljotavik in their season premier.  Again, it’s kind of weird that we can control this kind of usage, but then can do nothing about some game show in Germany using Hoppipolla week in, week out, because of a local “blanket agreement“, that precludes the need for an artist’s permission.  Oh well.

Band are now on their way to Koln for the first of a run of German dates, before next weekend’s festivals. Maybe they can catch up on how Deathsong is being used to promote So You Think You Can Dance Deutschland?

Auf wiedersehen, pets.

Melbourne, Australia, July 31, 2008

I run into the boys on Smith Street. We’ve come to be fond of Melbourne. And this time round, our second visit in a year, its familiarity is a welcome comfort after the mid-bending trip halfway round the planet.  The shops are setting up to close, so Georg, Orri, Kjartan, sousaphone player Ingi and me repair to a small Japanese restaurant a few paces away to see what our stomachs are capable of.  Jetlag hits in unpredictable ways with time losing all meaning, so there’s no telling whether you’re going to be hungry and what meal your body thinks it needs.  Still it’s good to eat, even if our trips to Tokyo and the West Coast of America have sharpened our appreciation of what decent Japanese food ought to taste like – which is better than this. (Sorry if we sound like a bunch of tossers).

I suggest we go see ‘Black Knight’ at the local mall-cum-multiplex as an untaxing way of spending the evening, but Georg and Orri say they’ll fall asleep and want to save it as a treat for when they are in better shape. In the end it’s just me and Kjartan. I won’t fall asleep because I’ve been asleep most of the day. The film provides what we require; mildly diverting hoo-ha with a wafer-thin patina of substance. Afterwards the hoped for tiredness remains elusive, so we call up the others, hoping they are going to be in a bijou bar somewhere we can join them til sleep descends.  Instead they say they are back on Smith St in a dubious looking club called Barry’s, which I spotted on a corner earlier in the day. Apparently there’s a queue, but Jonsi negotiated with the doorman by using his position as singer in a famous band to get them all in, despite the fact that the guy had never actually heard of the Sigur Ros. Kjartan makes it clear that he finds this kind of shameless blagging far beyond the pale…but doesn’t mind if I do it on our behalf, which I do.

Inside, I immediately wonder why we bothered, the place is kind of cavernous and heaving but without any obvious identity, just a load of young kids on the piss.  The music sounds like bad Marilyn Manson to me, and Orri confirms it is indeed Marilyn Manson, although apparently the more revered end of his ouevre.  I stand around for the requisite number of minutes, seeing if I’ve misread the place, and then look for a companion to join my exit.  Kjartan and Georg say they want to go too, but when I get outside only Kjartan has followed. It’s typical of Georg to waiver when there’s the prospect of one last beer to be had – I don’t think I’m revealing a state secret in saying that.

We walk back through the crisp quasi-European air of the city, through the park past the now silent, and wonderfully odd birdlife, and climb the stairs to a small wine bar near the Windsor Hotel. By now it’s properly late, but still tiredness is over the horizon.  K orders a local Chardonnay and me a coffee, and over a couple of rounds we talk about the need to find meaning and purpose in the creative process. Or maybe it was something about the essential mystery at the heart of creation. Anyway, we stab away at profundity, each fumbling with the inarticulacy that comes over you when you try to speak about this stuff.

I remember saying something about Sigur Ros performing a philosophical function in the mind of the listener, and asked whether or not the band were deliberate in, or aware of, creating this, now or ever. Understandably K was unable to answer, since analysis is something the band pretty much deliberately eschew.

One thing’s clear, the things you feel at 20 aren’t the things you feel at 30 (the age period in which I have known Kjartan), or what you feel at 40, which I accomplished sometime back.  It’s just a shame that so little of the accumulated so-called understanding seems to be much use to anyone.  The important thing is to never rest and treat complacency with huge suspicion.  Or maybe it isn’t…I don’t know. Maybe I’m finally tired…

You can see a 46 minute video of the band at MoMa in New York City on 17th June (the Icelandic Independence Day) on Current TV, click here to watch a mix of live performance, interviews and other footage…

Last Saturday - July 19th, Sigur Ros played their largest headline performance to date, at the Latitude Festival in Suffolk. A huge thank you to everyone who came out to see them and help make it such a special night. For those of you who are new to the band’s music, here’s what they played and where to find it…

Svefn-g-englar - Ágætis Byrjun
Glósóli - Takk…
Sé Lest - Takk…
Við Spilum Endalaust - Með suð í eyrum við spilum endalaust
Hoppípolla / Med Blódnasir - Takk…
Festival - Með suð í eyrum við spilum endalaust
Sæglópur - Takk…
Inní mér syngur vitleysingur - Með suð í eyrum við spilum endalaust
Hafsól – Hvarf - Heim
Gobbledigook - Með suð í eyrum við spilum endalaust

Popplagið - ( )

(All links except “Með suð í eyrum við spilum endalaust” are for UK customers only)