Edward Hancox's Blog, page 20

Facts you never knew about the Icelandic Sheep.

Photo courtesy of Pete Chipman.

So a while ago, I compiled a list of facts about Puffins. They weren’t necessarily true or accurate, but they were frequently amusing. They were partly inspired by David O’Doherty who did the same for the Panda.

The list of 100 Crazy Puffin Facts has become one of the most visited pages on this blog (even Rough Guides tweeted about them today), and I still get the odd fact sent to me.

So, because I have a bit of time on my hands, I thought we could do it again. Twitter friends suggested the Icelandic sheep was fair game. Here is what we have so far. Please let me know if you have any lesser known facts about the Icelandic sheep.

Sheep have a lot of very important business in the middle of roads. You will often see them having meetings. @CatTheobald

Icelandic sheep have radars in their horns so they know exactly when to run in front of your car. @IheartReykjavik

Icelandic Sheep wear a peysa under their normal wool to keep warm.

Icelandic sheep are highly intelligent, and often spend the winter playing Scrabble.

Sheep are directly in charge of the Icelandic weather. They make it rain a lot so as to keep their coat frizzy. @CatTheobald

Icelandic sheep come in black, brown, white and the lesser seen mauve. The fleece of the mauve sheep is highly sought after.

Icelandic sheep are often mistaken for clouds, especially the rare lenticular sheep and noctilucent sheep. @nickminers

Icelandic sheep are often mistaken for pillows. You can usually see people asleep next to a sheep in Iceland. @BnGddrd

Icelandic sheep are like electrons – if you remove them from a field, eventually the field collapses. @nickminers

Never wear a lopapeysa when in the company of Icelandic sheep. It’s considered rude. It might be one of their relatives or friends. Wes Jay

The Blue Lagoon was originally a place where the Icelandic sheep would go to in particularly extreme weather conditions. @BnGddrd

The ‘sand’ on Vik beach is actually centuries old Icelandic sheep dung. It has been proven to have medicinal properties. @BnGddrd

At Airwaves Kraftwerk will be joined by the Icelandic sheep choir. Their last performance was in 1978 for the album Autobaaaaaaahn @BnGddrd

Icelandic Sheep favour Twitter over Facebook, due to the confusion around facial recognition.

Icelandic sheep have lead sheep called forystufe, who can operate GPS, and know the farmers phone number by heart.

Icelandic sheep make a great cup of coffee. @thorarinnh

An Icelandic sheep was partly responsible for designing Harpa, but not the bubbly looking windows.

Last winter, Icelandic sheep were found alive after being buried in snow for 45 days. For this reason, they always carry a book with them.

Review- Bellstop: Karma

Bellstop are actually Rúnar Sigurbjörnsson and Elín Ólafsdóttir. I have to say that I approached their album with some trepidation. The main reason for this? The awful artwork. The website and album cover suggests a sub-standard video game. Poor name, awful artwork; I was on a downer from the start. You could argue that I’m not reviewing those components here, and that I should stick to the music. I disagree. It’s a whole package.

I was pleasantly surprised, then, with the music itself. The duo call themselves ‘Folk & Roll,’ and that is a fair description. Based around acoustic guitars, played in a traditional folk manner, Elín and Rúnar sing in English in that canyon where folk and Americana intertwine.

Karma starts with ‘Trouble,’ which is essentially folk with a twist of Kate Bush, whilst ‘Theme War’ is sounds like an unheard Of Monsters and Men track. Karma tends to run out of steam save for ‘Run,’ and ‘God Given Right’ is just cringe-worthy. ‘Serenity’ is a redeeming end to proceedings.

On their website, Bellstop talk about playing concerts to a range of audiences including a Chinese shampoo commercial. I’d suggest that a Bellstop concert is much, much better than the recorded version. I wouldn’t write Bellstop off just yet.

Original review on Iceland Review Online.

Secrets of Fljótstunga

Fljótstunga, in the Reykholt area in West Iceland, is a magical little place. Situated just half an hour from the middle of nowhere, it’s a gorgeous little farm perched on a hill. It is approached by a short, rough track, dotted with occasional spindly trees and populated by the ubiquitous Icelandic horses. It’s a working farm, although it has diversified into hiring out Scandinavian wooden cottages that are sprouting up in the lava fields, right next to the lava fields and low bushes where berries will be found in the autumn.

My visit, though, was in the Icelandic summer. This meant that the grass glowing green with vitality and although a fine rain hung in the air, it might just turn out to be as burning hot as it was yesterday.

I visited Fljótstunga to go underground. Yes, The Clash song was on repeat in my head, like some kind of punning psychological tick. I am English, and some songs are just in your DNA. There are plenty of places where you can go underground in Iceland. The country is riddled with lava tubes, dormant volcanoes and mysterious unclassified caves that are stuff of legend, now vacated homes and featured in renowned literature. There are companies in Reykjavík that will take you and your wallet underground straight from your plush hotel, complete with promises of your own adventures deep underground. There is a dormant volcano that can be entered seemingly on a contraption borrowed from the window washers of Manhattan’s tallest towers.

I wanted something a little more organic, a little less touristy, and a lot less expensive. Enter Fljótstunga. The owners of the farm are the custodians for Viðgelmir, a lava cave. Viðgelmir is  massive 1,585 meters long, the highest point inside the cave is 15.8 meters and 16.5 meters in width. It’s huge. Víðgelmir lava cave is considered by speleologists (impressed with that word? You can have it!) to be one of the most remarkable caves on earth.

Víðgelmir is by far the largest known of all lava caves in Iceland; apparently no one has ever traversed its full length. Deep inside there are many spaces with well preserved lava formations. Bones and jewellery from the year 1100 have been found inside, believed to have been from previous inhabitants, including a thieving, female warrior.

The entrance to Víðgelmir is a short distance from the farm, where the green meadows had given away to the sharp mess of a lava field. A portion of the cave roof has collapsed inwards, leaving a hole the size of several cars. A rusty ladder was affixed to the side of the aperture, which I nervously climbed down. This then lead to a path roped across the shattered volcanic rocks. The guide helpfully pointed out that the rope as for guidance; it wouldn’t hold my weight in the event of a fall, as I clambered down the steep, slippery rocks into the darkness and gloom. Where sunlight could still reach, moss and lichen had started to flourish, but as the darkness encroached, this gave way to dark, sombre rock. The tube was covered in what appeared to be think, melted chocolate, although this was actually hard and brittle. The smell was one of damp and stale air.

We continued through an alarming locked gate, which is apparently for locking people out, not the nightmare of being locked in this subterranean prison. The guide then did something quite remarkable, and extinguished all the light sources in the cave. This had an amazing effect on my senses. Being enveloped in complete, absolute darkness is an experience in itself. I could see nothing at all, with not a single pinprick of light to illuminate my retinas. Instead, my hearing took over. I could hear my own breathing, and the sound of blood rushing through my ears. But more than that, I could hear the dripping of water from the cave roof.

On entering the cave, I’d barely been aware of the droplets of water, save for the ones that hit me squarely on the back of the neck and dribbled coolly down my spine. Without light though, the drips performed a cacophonous symphony, alternating between slow and soft, hard and fast. It sounded like the most divine xylophone, played by a psychotic mouse. I’m told that the drips have been recorded by artists down here. I’m not surprised.

The surprises keep on coming though. Around the corner, I am confronted with a partial collapse in the cave, causing a sharp slope up to the roof. It’s covered in one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. Sharp tentacles of ice rise from the slope, pointing upwards to where they have fallen from. These stalagmites are made of ice, and are glistening white. Even in July, they remain here in the cold depths of the cave. Ice can close the cave entirely in the harshest winters. Some say that the ice formations are a city lived in by elves, but I think it’s too cold for your average elf. I was shuddering, not just with the cold, but the sheer beauty of this forest of inverted icicles, catching my torch light and refracting light like the most expensive diamonds.

It’s utterly, utterly spellbinding.

Original article on Iceland Review Online.

Days of Gray at Reykjavík International Film Festival

It’s just been announced that Days of Gray will be making its premiere at the Reykjavík International Film Festival! This event will be on Friday, October 4th at 9pm and feature Hjaltalín performing the score live. I can’t be there, unfortunately, but it sounds like a fantastic night out.

 

 

You can read more about Days of Gray, and my interview with one of its creators here:

July 2012:

There is a film being made in Iceland this summer. There are several actually, but this one doesn’t star Tom Cruise or Ben Affleck, or even follow any of the usual rules of the movie world. It’s already caught the imagination of a band of Internet followers, and is the sort of magic that could only happen in Iceland. I catch up with Ani Simon-Kennedy, director of Days of Gray, to find out more.

I need to clarify; Days of Gray is not Days of Grays by Finnish metal band Sonata Arctica, nor is it 50 Shades of Grey, the quasi-erotic novel currently everywhere.

So, what’s Days of Gray all about?

‘It’s a coming of age film. It’s the story of a 12-year-old boy. But it’s not that simple. The boy lives in a post-apocalyptic world, where his homeland is divided by a wall. On one side of the wall, the residents have a contagion that results in horrific animal style mutations. On the other, where the boy lives, the residents are obsessed with not becoming infected. It’s a film about kids, but not for kids. It’s about what happens when the boy meets a girl from the other side.  The girl has some mutations. Can they have a friendship? Can they overcome the boundaries and fears in their way?’

I’m intrigued, but it isn’t just the dark subject matter that grabs my attention. The whole set up is a polar opposite to the mainstream process in making movies.

But then, this isn’t a conventional film. It’s been conceived as a silent movie, albeit one with a score performed by Icelandic band Hjaltalín. Hjaltalín are a seven piece band from Reykjavík, who unfairly draw comparison to Arcade Fire. Unfairly, I say, because their brand of lush chamber pop / rock sounds nothing like the Canadians, and secondly, because Hjaltalín are much, much better. If you don’t believe me, you should try listening to the gorgeously titled ‘Sleepdrunk Sessions’. Then come back to me.

How did Hjaltalín become involved in the project?

‘Well, I was introduced to Hjaltalín by one of the crew. I was blown away by their music, and their entire performance. For a while, Hjaltalín were one of the key influences on the feel of the film, but that evolved, and they are now doing the score.’

Ani goes on to explain that the long-term plan is to show the movie across the globe at film and music festivals, with Hjaltalín playing the live score. This sounds like a plan to me, and my head is filled with thoughts of sitting in the midnight sun in a park in Reykjavik, supping an ice-cold beer whilst watching and listening to Days of Gray. I pull myself back into the real world.

‘Why did you choose Iceland?’

‘It was a very easy choice. We have a very multi-national team here, and one of us is Icelandic. He kept showing us these incredible pictures of the Icelandic landscape that he’d taken, like on the way home one night. It seemed perfect for the film. And then once Hjaltalín were on board, it made sense entirely for Days of Gray to be filmed in Iceland’.

So it’s not just a chance to travel to Iceland and spend a few months there?

Ani laughs ‘Yes, well there is that, and we have just come back from a scouting trip. We have found a number of locations to film, and we have completed casting. So far, our entire cast is Icelandic’.

Language barriers could have been an issue, but with a silent film, this is circumnavigated. ‘We wanted to create a futuristic, post-apocalyptic world, where there was no more language, and in addition we are a very global team – roughly a third French, a third American and a third Icelandic – it made sense to make the film silent’.

I’m intrigued about how the concept of a silent film came about.  Ani explains; “We normally produce music videos, so in some ways this is a music video with an album length score by Hjaltalín. At the same time, it’s how films used to be shown – a silent movie with a live band. It’s like it was back in the day’.

Something that certainly isn’t old fashioned is how the project has been funded. Instead of the regular routes, Ani and her team chose to crowd-fund the film via website Kickstarter. The concept behind this is that you introduce a project, and backers pledge funds in support. Ani was taken by surprise as to just how successful this was ‘We had 438 backers in 60 days’ she said ’but this isn’t about making money. We wanted to build an audience from the very start. We wanted people to share our enthusiasm and excitement for the project. We wanted people to get involved; it’s a complete labor of love’. People certainly have got involved, from all over the world, and showed their support.

Ani tells me that a recent visit to Iceland was her first. It’s clear though, that Iceland is an integral part of this film. It’s as much an ingredient as the characters, the story or the exceptional score. It’s as essential as Hjaltalín or Ani herself. I can’t wait to see it. I can’t wait to hear it. I get the feeling that Days of Gray couldn’t happen anywhere else but Iceland.

Review: Lára Rúnars : Moment

Lára Rúnars has been busy of late. She has traveled as part of a band on the boat Húni, sailing from Icelandic port to port, raising money for the search and rescue teams. After that she toured remote venues in the north of Iceland with three other singer-songwriters, including Hafdís Huld.

Lára Rúnars has an outstanding voice, no doubt about that. However, on Moment, there are times when everything else detracts from this. At times, the tracks can sound dated, even 80’s. Not good 80’s. I don’t know whether this is intentional, but the synth swirls on ‘Don’t Wake Me Up’ or the awkward bass on ‘Victory’ are most unwelcome. The start of ‘Breathing’ sounds like the soundtrack to a old cop show.

It’s almost as if some record company mogul has decided unwisely, that this is Lára’s ‘breakthrough record’ and has tried as hard as possible to make it sound ‘mainstream.’ By this token ‘Beast’ would be the first single. It’s fine, especially when it’s just Lára over a sparse drumbeat.

Heartbeat is where Lára is best. Her vocal talents shine through. The music supports this, wrapping around her hushed, delicate vocals rather than fighting against them.

‘Shivering’ might suffer from being below par Kate Bush. ‘I Wanna Know’ and ‘Overrated’ again disappear back to the 80’s. It’s a shame, because the songs are there, just being played through some sort of distorting time machine. A complete rehash of the arrangements might just be the only remedy.

Original review on Iceland Review online.

Guest post: Librarian 66 North

I’m doing this blog swap thing for the first time so I’m going to tell you guys whatever comes to my mind! Which can be very awkward but let’s hope it won’t.

My name is Francesca and I’m one of those weird people who handle book all days: a librarian. I was born and raised in Switzerland, which is a lot like Norway but very different from Iceland.

My real home is in Iceland. You know those frames with cross-stitch hearts and writings that say Home Sweet Home? Well, I would rather hang one in Keflavik airport than in my own house.

Why is that? To tell you the truth, I don’t know. When I was a kid I thought there wasn’t anything in that stretch of sea between Scandinavia and Greenland…imagine my surprise when I found out there actually was an island shaped like a seal (ok, I think it’s a seal and people think I have serious sight problems) – anyways, I was instantly hooked to that big island in the middle of the North Sea.

Being raised in Switzerland made me love winter and snow; being me, I began loving volcanoes at a young age. So basically Iceland is a win/win place for me!

Alas, due to my poor finances I wasn’t able to go to Iceland until my early twenties. I am now 30, and I can’t wait to go back. They say Africa continues to summon you constantly when you come back home: for me, it happens with Iceland.

I’m not ashamed to admit that I’m obsessed: the music, the literature, the skyr (I’m a vegan but I can’t resist skyr, I’m sorry!), … Everything is special in Iceland. At least for me.

Not to mention that most of the best parties I’ve been to were in Reykjavik.

Iceland is magic and unbelievable, but also crazy. That’s why I keep a journal every time I’m up there: I need to remember the heaps of crazy, crazy things that constantly happen everywhere on the island. Like when I was walking on Laugavegur and I passed by a guy who was holding a gigantic fish in his hands. At 2am.

But that’s a story for another time.

Now I need to get emotional.

On my journal I wrote that I miss running on Laugavegur towards the coffee shop on an early morning, with dew all over my face and hair. This is what Iceland means to me: being carefree and having a hell of a good time.

The best of in my icelandic hitlist include: the best raw vegan cake; the best dj set; the best waterfall (believe it or not I saw a lot of waterfalls around Europe); the best worst rain; the best super hot termal water; the best legend about zombies; the best (and most cozy) airport; the best music festival. I could go on but I don’t want to inflict a crazy long list upon you.

It’s pretty obvious, then, that my ultimate goal is to be able to buy the flat I usually stay in while in Reykjavik and go there whenever I want – between books and books presentations and all that stuff that us librarians do (including but not only shushing loud people).

My journal was a little sketchbook with birds on it. Now it’s basically the same, except it’s on the internet.

Francesca’s blog can be found here.

Orfia.

Ok, ok, I’ll admit it. I’m obsessed with new music from Iceland. I scour the internet looking for new bands, and I have been known to patrol the bars and clubs of Reykjavík looking for something new and exiting. Iceland Airwaves makes my head explode.

Just lately, I’ve been hearing a lot about Orfia. I had to find out more. Luckily, Soffía from the duo was on hand to enlighten me. Please ensure you have a glass of cold milk at hand.

How would you describe Orfia’s music? 

Hmm, synthetic, dreamy sounds mixed with interesting instruments, with influences from the Celtic scene and a hint of Middle East tonality maybe?

When do you think it is best to listen to it? 

With a glass of ice-cold milk.

It’s just you and Örn right? How did you meet? 

We met in Brother Grass, which is another band we formed in 2010. We were four girls thinking about just having one concert and needed a guitar player. One said “hey, I have a brother who plays the guitar, he’s really good, I promise!”. That’s it!

Where does the name Orfia come from? 

It comes from our lack of imagination in that area really. We kind of put both of our names together and the outcome was a female-ish type of name. Then we looked it up and the meaning of the word/name was “to have a beautiful voice,” which we thought was really nice and fitting for our project.

I love ‘Slow & Low.’ What’s the story behind the song?



The song is about a conflict between two lovers. The rest is for the listener’s imagination to reveal. I like those kinds of songs which don’t give the entire story away so the person listening can put their self in the song. Finish the story if you will.

Do you enjoy playing live? How was it playing the ‘Pikknikk’ concert in the greenhouse of the Nordic House? 

We love playing live but the Pikknikk concert at the Nordic House was the last one for now because we have plans on adding band members and enlarging our sound spectrum.

What’s next for Orfia? Do you have plans to release an album? 

Yes, the next step for us is to record an album and that will happen this fall and we are aiming on having it ready and rehearsed next spring. Then just a basic follow up on the album, hopefully we will be playing a lot next summer with Orfia.

What’s the biggest secret about Orfia? 

No secrets – we’re on Facebook.

Who (else) should we look out for on the Icelandic new music scene? 

I heard Samaris play at the Slut Walk in Reykjavík. They create some kind of magic with their live performance. I think they will go far.

Original article published on Iceland Review online.

Faith In Others

Tori West is asking for your help in funding her final year photography project, ‘Faith In Others’, set in Iceland and build around Icelandic folklore. She graciously explains exactly what she is up to, and why this couldn’t have happened anywhere but Iceland.

An image from Tori’s project.

You have launched a Kickstarter project called ‘Faith In Others’. What’s it about?

After travelling to Iceland at the beginning of the year I discovered that the people there believe in many tales and stories. The people there seem really open to everything and everyone, and I often wondered if it was because they had such strong beliefs in things that it almost seemed calming to them. This was really refreshing as they live in such an unstable environment. Some even believe that ‘elves’ protect them from disasters and bad luck. The project is about how many of these tourists sniggered about their beliefs and it made me feel as though people should have more respect towards what others believe in. So I’m going to photograph some of these tales through fashion photography and base an editorial shoot around them. I’m hoping people will be less dismissive to other people’s faiths when they are told about my work.

What do you need the funding for?

The funding will help towards the renting of my models, buying fabrics to make the clothes I’m photographing, my flights to Iceland and back home and to put towards my own exhibition. The most important thing the money goes to is my rent to be shown at graduate fashion week, so I can enter all the graduate awards.

What happens if you don’t get the funding? (I’m sure you will!)

I will have to re-think my entire final year project which will have a major effect on the images. It would be pretty sad to not see my idea go forward and it would be extremely difficult to fundraise it all myself by Christmas.

Can you give an example of where Icelandic folklore and your photography might meet?

Hopefully through fashion. I’m going to design some of the outfits based on one tale called the ‘mermaid wife’, it’s based on a man who stole a seal skin on the beach and later that day found a very upset lady crying on the sand. He then made her his wife and lived with her for many years until one day she found it, and stole it back and he never saw her again. Except for the day he saw her swimming in the ocean as a mermaid. My shoot will hopefully show these tales through the camera.

When did you first go to Iceland? Where did you travel to?

In March, I started in Reykjavík and rented a car, and through the course of a week I made my way to the other side of the coast to Seyðisfjörður.

What’s the plan for your next trip?  

Hopefully the same thing, but being able to stay longer to shoot and travel up to the north of the country, as I didn’t get to see any of that side.

What made you think of Iceland for your project?

There’s no other place that has better surroundings that Iceland. It’s beautiful. It’s also very varied, some parts of the land are quite green while others are covered in snow. Most of it is inhabitable due to all the lava flows. Nevertheless, there is no doubt the country has extraordinary locations.

I think Iceland has a way of making people feel creative? Would you agree?

Definitely, I think it’s because it’s such a refreshing place to be because of its people and scenery.

More details on Tori’s project can be found here.

Message from Djúpavík.

Yesterday, I received an amazing email from Djúpavík in Iceland. This extremely remote corner of Iceland is one of favourite places to visit.

For anyone that has read Iceland, Defrosted, you’ll know that my visit to Hotel Djúpavík was made complete by the friendly welcome of Claus Sterneck, a German photographer that spends his summers in Djúpavík and his winters in Reykjavík. Claus has become a friend since my visit, and even contributed to my Kickstarter campaign by providing postcards and ‘sound cards’ to be sent out with packages. I was proud to send out his work with my book, and I think that the opportunity to listen to the sounds of Djúpavík whilst looking at the Claus’ images is a brilliant idea.

So, please check out Claus’ website for more details. In addition, you could give him a hand in voting for his exhibition ‘Silence in Djúpavík’ to be shown in Paris. If you can click here and vote, I know he would appreciate it!

Oh, the email? Claus sent me a photograph of Iceland, Defrosted in Djúpavík. That made me smile. What a nice fella.

Adda: the hitch-hiking musician of Iceland.

Adda Ingólfsdóttir is hitchhiking her way around Iceland, playing concerts in living rooms and trying to fund her debut album.

She is trying to teach her friend a Cyndi Lauper song but she needs to move quickly; there is a ferocious storm predicted for North Iceland. Surely it’s only in Iceland that a musician is found in such circumstances.

Can you tell us a bit about yourself?

Yes! In one sentence I am a pianist turned electronic musician turned philosophy and gender scholar turned singer/songwriter.

I started writing lyric-based songs in 2008 when I spent one semester in Budapest trying to finish a masters’ degree. I had trouble focusing my studies, trouble getting out of bed, trouble getting into bed, trouble in my mind, and all of this I finally realized I could write about in lengthy lyrics.

It was Joni Mitchell’s music and lyrics that got me going at that point. I was listening to ‘Song for Sharon,’ where she just rambles and complains about difficult things, and I had a revelation: well, if she’s allowed to do that, I am too!

Other lyrical influences at that point were Ani DiFranco, Bob Dylan, Eminem and Mirah. The songs came one after the other, in response to a dire need to materialize all of this trouble and help me through it.

I have been playing concerts in Reykjavík since and during the first or second one my friend Úlfhildur Eysteinsdóttir offered to record an album with me, which is now finally coming to life.

Where in Iceland are you from?

I’m from Reykjavík but I have lived all over the place, in the south, the West Fjords and in the east where I taught music in an elementary school.

How would you describe your music?

I would describe it as gray, dark strings of difficult thoughts transformed into colorful, soothing and sweet pieces of music. Or maybe indie folk?

You are crowd-funding your EP on Karolina Fund. What’s that all about?

In these four years that I’ve been playing my music there have been lots of people: friends, people in the audience and fellow musicians that have encouraged me to release an album and I think enabling them to participate in the making of the album is a really direct and material way to relate to my audience.

It reminds us that we create our society together and we can do beautiful things without big corporations and image makers coming anywhere near them.

If people are interested to check out my music they can listen to it on my crowd-funding website.

Why does Iceland keep producing such brilliant musicians?

I think there are brilliant musicians everywhere. The spotlight shines more on some places than others, though.

You are currently touring Iceland, but not in the usual way. What are you up to?

I am hitchhiking around the country, playing living-room concerts at my friends’ houses. Some of them are open for the public, like the one in Akureyri, the capital of the north, on Friday (August 30).

Do you know where you are playing one day after the next? Or is it just where you end up?

I have more or less mapped out the living rooms for the whole trip, but I’ve stayed longer or shorter in places according to mood, energy levels and how much I need to catch up with the friends I’m staying with.

Also the weather forecast has been pushing me on a bit recently: there’s a storm coming on tonight (August 30) here in the north and farmers have herded their sheep from the mountains weeks earlier than usual so that they won’t get stuck under piles of snow like happened last year.

Where are you looking forward to playing the most?

I always look forward to the next gig because they are all so spontaneous and exciting. Tonight I am playing with a friend who I usually hike with. I am just about to teach him some of my songs and maybe we will do Cyndi Lauper’s ‘True Colors’ together. He has a huge antique organ that will probably sound great and now I can hear him practicing his guitar a bit.

Can you keep us updated with your travels?

Yes! I’m blogging about the trip, posting photos, writing a bit and sending videos when I can, here blogmybrain.tumblr.com, and the concerts that are open are announced on my Facebook page.

Original article at Iceland Review online.

Photos courtesy of Adda.