Edward Hancox's Blog, page 6

Icelandic Yule Lads (in Lego) – Stúfur

Stúfur (Stubby/Shorty).

Stúfur is abnormally short. He is far by the shortest Yule lads. This can be a blessing and a curse for Stúfur; he can use his diminutive size to steals pans to eat the crusts left on them without detection, but it can also cause him to get stuck in snow drifts. Something that doesn’t happen often to the over large Giljagaur. Stúfur arrives on December 14 and departs on December 27.

Icelandic Yule Lads (in Lego) – Giljagaur

Giljagaur (Gully Gawk). Giljagaur, despite being the biggest of the lads, is a tad shy and hides in gullies and ravines waiting for an opportunity to sneak into houses and cowsheds to steal milk. He also has a penchant for singing, so if you see a lad with a belly, a milk moustache and singing loudly, it will be Giljagaur. Giljagaur arrives on December 13 and departs on December 26.

Icelandic Yule Lads (in Lego) – Stekkjastaur

Stekkjastaur (Sheep-Cote Clod/Stiff-legs) This lad, the eldest of the Yule lads, sneaks into sheep sheds, hoping to get a sip of milk, but is often thwarted by his stiff legs. He’ll do anything for a hit of calcium. Apparently his creaking legs can often give the game away, both to the sheep and anyone else who should be asleep anyway. Despite this, he is persistent, and is always the first of the Yule lads to arrive. Stekkjastaur arrives on December 12 and departs again on December 25.

The Yule lads, of which there are thirteen in Icelandic folklore, come from the mountains to visit every Christmas. They arrive one by one, and leave again fourteen days later. The Yule lads used to have a bit of a reputation, and whilst they are still mainly naughty, they now leave presents in children’s shoes left on window sills. Unless you have been naughty, of course, then you will receive nothing, or worse, a rotten potato.

Unlike Santa Claus, they do have this mischievous side. Each Yule lad has specialised in one sort of trickery or another, such as licking spoons, slamming doors and stealing sausages. The idea of Santa and the Yule lads has been confused over recent years, with the Yule lads now often seen adopting the red and white costume of Santa himself. This is either an image thing, or the cheeky little scamps might have just been at Santas wardrobe.

The Yule lads are the sons of Grýla and Leppalúði, both mountain dwelling trolls. Grýla is particularly fearsome, and is said to come looking for naughty children at Christmas to put in her pot. A newspaper even blamed Grýla for the Eyjafjallajökull eruption in 2010, although this has never been proven. Leppalúði is a lazy, idle oaf. It’s no wonder that the lads turned out as they did.

Icelandic folklore states that everyone has to get one new piece of clothing at Christmas. Anyone who was left out is in danger of being eaten by a gruesome feline called the Christmas Cat. The Christmas Cat is Grýla’s cat, so thats where it gets its terrible manners, and every effort is made to ensure that no-one in the family gets caught by it. Cat flaps are not popular in Iceland for this reason.

I’ll introduce you to a Yule lad day by day, as they arrive. In lego format!

The Yule Cat is coming!

The Yule Cat, or Jólakötturinn, is a fearsome thing. Icelandic folklore has it that anyone not dressed from top to toe in new clothes by Christmas would be quickly eaten up by the vicious cat. Whether it’s a story made up to encourage slovenly farm workers to knit garments faster in the run up to Christmas, or a tale to keep naughty kids in check, the Yule cat is on it’s way. Beware.

Some people believe that the Yule cat is the house cat of the belligerent Grýla and lazy Leppalúði, the parents of the thirteen Yule lads who visit Icelandic homes in the run up to Christmas.

I stumbled across these wonderful Yule cat decorations in Reykjavik, made by Huseina Schott, an artist originally from Guelph, ON. Canada.

She graduated with a BFA in Studio Arts and Film Animation at Concordia University in Montreal, QC. Canada . After working as an artist and art framer in Montreal for several years, she married and moved to Reykjavik, Iceland in 2009, where she is a firm believer in the Yule cat.

Who the hell is Lily The Kid?

Every now and then a concert comes along that changes the course of everything that follows it. At Iceland Airwaves this year, that concert was Lily The Kid at Slippbarinn. Following a completely pleasant start to the festival, Lily The Kid provided the unofficial announcement that Airwaves was finally here. They bought the party.

Lily The Kid arrived in a flurry of excitement and passion. Lilja took center stage with her strong, sweet vocals and the craziest dancing I’ve seen for a long time. The band form around her, producing dark, clever electro pop with samples and loops. Drinks were put down, or spilt in the rush to the stage. It was extraordinary stuff.

Lilja found time to answer a few questions for me.

Who exactly are Lily The Kid?

Lily the Kid is just me, Lilja Jónsdóttir, and my brother Hallur Jónsson. We write, record, produce and mix everything together. We did have three extra members for our live show at Iceland Airwaves, a drummer (Doddi), backing vocals (Sunna) and a guitarist (Kári).

Where does the name come from?

The name is a pretty old idea actually. I came up with it as some sort of alter ego for myself a few years ago. I think it describes and fits both me and us in more than one way.

How would you describe your music?

Wow, that is always a hard question. I think it’s sort of dreamy electronic pop, that still has some bite to it. We try to be innovative in our use of samples and vocals, and make irregular beats and use a lot of organic percussion. We want things to sound smooth but still make it shake your soul a little bit.

Where are you from in Iceland? Does this influence your music?

We are from a small town in East Iceland called Egilsstaðir, we were both born and raised there. I didn’t move to Reykjavík until I was almost 20 years old. I think it influenced us both to start making music. I still haven’t figured out how my past life as a small town girl is reflected in our music, but it must be in there somewhere. It will burst into my head one day.

Your Airwaves performance was stunning. I couldn’t believe it was you first ever set of concerts. What’s your secret?

Thank you so much! Well, we really love what we do and we work hard to make things fall into place. I think that’s the basic answer. We have of course performed a lot with Bloodgroup, but I haven’t performed in almost five years. That Friday night at Airwaves was a pretty big one! It’s just the most thrilling thing in the world for me, being on stage and performing music, and when it’s my own music that I’ve been waiting to release for such a long time, it gives you a little something extra. Plus, we had some of the finest musicians in the country playing with us. That helps a little!

Your Mainland EP is out now digitally. It’s wonderful, but far too short. Are there plans for more music?

Absolutely. This is just the beginning. Right now we are working on our next EP, and we hope to release it early next year. We will probably release songs from it as we go, like we did with Mainland. We of course hope to release a full length LP sometime next year. This project has been so much fun to work on, we’ve explored so many new sounds and ideas. I can’t wait to keep going.

Does Lily The Kid mean the end of Bloodgroup?

Oh no! Bloodgroup is still alive and well, it has just been hibernating for the last few months, as all its members are swamped in other projects at the moment (Kiasmos, Byrta and FURA, to name a few). I think something might be in the works for 2015…

For more details on Lily the Kid please see their Facebook page.

Originally published on Iceland Review online.

ICE-SAR. Keeping Iceland safe since 1918.

If you visited Airwaves this year, you couldn’t have missed the proliferation of brightly uniformed ICE-SAR (Iceland Search & Rescue) volunteers selling charity key rings on the streets of Reykjavik. They even covered all entrances to Harpa on the busy Friday night of the festival. I bought one; I buy one most years. Not only are they collectable, often cute (see the one holding a small child, or the diving version) but they provide vital funding for ICE-SAR. With Icelanders and (increasingly) tourists requiring an emergency response, it’s crucial that they raise the money they need to keep everyone safe. I dug out this passage from Iceland, Defrosted as a reminder.

Somewhere between Mývatn and Grímsstaðir, the road rose up into the mountains, through rocky valleys and deserted farms before the tarmac roads stopped and I found myself on unpaved roads and covered in dust and grit every time other vehicles sped past. The road became more and more exposed, frequently twisting and turning to reveal sharp drops to hidden valleys.

At one point, I pulled over to visit a mountain hut. These huts are provided for emergency use only, and it was easy to see how grateful you would be to find one of these huts in the isolated areas where they are located, especially in the deepest snow and bitterest winds. The hut was painted orange, which I suppose would have helped in stand out in an Icelandic winter wonderland, and was a square, flat roofed affair, with a short covered chimney poking out from one side. It excited my adventurous spirit, and I couldn’t wait to peek inside. I was pleased to find the hut unoccupied, and cautiously opened the door. Ignoring the smell of slightly stale air, I found a small bed, warm blankets, a cupboard with meagre supplies, and most reassuringly a fire set and ready for lighting. I later found out that nearby Grímsstaðir holds the record for Iceland’s lowest ever recorded temperature: -38C in 1918. I thanked the warm June sunshine that I wasn’t here in an emergency, or the winter of 1918 and stepped back outside. The view from the hut was absolutely stunning, looking down a series of valleys from which the road would disappear and then reappear far in the distance. The sun glinted off a solitary vehicle far below, making them look like shooting stars across the rock strewn, alpine-esque scenery.

This little emergency hut, providing shelter in the face of whatever weather is thrown at it, is the responsibility of ICE-SAR. ICE-SAR can source its roots in the Westman Island Rescue Team in 1918, but has changed quite a bit then. Oh, and they’ve achieved a great deal too. ICE-SAR were the first international team to arrive on scene for the earthquake in Haiti in 2010, they have acquired the first rescue ship, and for that matter, first rescue helicopter in Iceland. They have dealt with some volcanoes going off or something too. I forget the details. You might have heard of them.

ICE-SAR is a modern, all singing, all dancing search and rescue organisation. Although singing and dancing are frowned upon during actual rescue missions. Not only do they have all the kit – snowmobiles, super jeeps, mobile communication centres, ships, lifeboats, dog teams, quad bikes, hovercraft, snow groomers (me neither!), mountain bikes, kayaks; anything you can think of, they have some of the most highly trained and specialist search and rescue teams in the world. And there is something else. ICE-SAR members wear a red and blue uniform that is not dissimilar to that of Spiderman. Except it doesn’t shoot webs.

ICE-SAR are not only looking out for us land-lubbers. ICE-SAR also take maritime safety very seriously, as well as the previously mentioned ship, it has 14 other vessels around Iceland’s coast, 35 RIBs (Rigid Inflatable Boats) and 90 inflatable boats. It runs a compulsory maritime safety course for sailors, which has dramatically cut the number of Icelandic lives lost at sea.

ICE-SAR has some neat tricks up its – no doubt, Gore-tex – sleeve. 80% of it’s funding comes from sales of fireworks on the lead up to New Years Eve. How cool is that? If that doesn’t grab you – fundraising and firework displays – check your pulse, or else how about purchasing a really cute ICE-SAR keyring? This years is irresistible with an ICE-SAR rescue worker holding a child in his arms. ICE-SAR is even encouraging foreign travellers to record their travel plans with them at their website, so they know where to look should you go missing. Its kind of thoughtful, isn’t it?

ICE-SAR’s biggest achievement though, if you are asking me, is harnessing the huge power of altruism and skills of Icelanders across the country to save lives. Whether it be through daring incidents of wrenching hapless tourists from deep glacial crevasses, changing tyres in the West Fjords, educating others in accident prevention or running youth groups, ICE- SAR do all of this through volunteers.

ICE-SAR has 95 search and rescue teams dotted right across Iceland (you’d think they would make it 100, wouldn’t you?), which contain an amazing 3500 volunteers who offer their services, skills and knowledge to get Icelanders and foreigners out of sticky situations. I think this is quite a feat; roughly 1% of the countries population are wiling to perform such a crucial role, for no pay. With accident prevention and other volunteers, this raises to a total of 18,000 volunteers. This is surely something to be commended. I can’t think of many other countries where this could happen.

There are many reasons for people to sign up to ICE-SAR – getting to drive a big truck whilst wearing shades, being involved n training exercises, camaraderie, access to Gucci kit, but beyond all, Icelanders seem to have an inbuilt need to help each other. Maybe it’s after centuries of living on a harsh, inhospitable island isolated from the rest of the world, maybe it’s because they just want to be self sufficient in every possible way. Whatever the reason, I’m glad that they are there. Next time you drive past a little orange hut in the middle of nowhere, I hope that you are too.

Photo (top) courtesy of ICE-SAR.

For more details of ICE-SAR see website.

Lily The Kid

One of the best acts I saw at Airwaves ’14 was Lily the Kid. I saw them at Slippbarinn, where the acts were consistently good, and the beer was cold.

They arrived on stage with a bundle of enthusiasm, with Lilja dancing like a girl possessed. The music is powerful, danceable pop delivered with passion and zest that makes it truly irresistible. It was hard to to believe that this is their first ever concert.

Lily the Kid are actually Lilja K. Jónsdóttir, a singer/songwriter and her producer brother Hallur Jónsson. Lilja was formerly the front woman of the well known Bloodgroup. I also noticed that well known percussionist Doddi was also on stage. They produce breathy, intimate vocals over Nordic electro pop. It’s stunning stuff.

Lily the Kid’s ep, Mainland, is out now.

Airwaves ’14 – Day 4. Dancing Feet.

Rökkurró are at the Nordic House. It’s 2 pm so the band are a little less hyped, and possibly a little more hungover then when I caught them on Day 2. It’s their 4th show of the festival, so its understandable. They perform a set of Innra songs, including the wonderful ‘Blue Skies’ which is entirely appropriate today as the weather is freezing with bright blue skies. ‘Flying Dragons’ finishes the set with Hildur declaring it get favorite song. It’s becoming mine too.

Júniús Meyvant has slipped under my radar until now, when I catch him playing in a bank of all places. The bank has been gone to the trouble of printing his name on to bottles of Coca Cola to mark the event but he seems unswayed. He plays a short set of Americana style acoustic songs, which is odd considering he’s from the Westmann Islands. That’s not his real name, no. In any case, I’m impressed by this young troubadour.

Vök make even less sense in the bank but I have one of their cokes too. This concert in a bank thing is strange but has pulled a massive crowd of mainly Icelanders. Vök are unfazed. That saxophone still doesn’t grab me. I think I’m going have to work at it.

I’m unimpressed that East India Youth have canceled their set at Harpa tonight. It’s the second big name to cancel (Jungle were first)—both U.K. acts as it happens. East India Youth give some story about how their passports are embargoed, but it’s a real shame.

Úlfur Úlfur (‘Wolf Wolf’) are playing their brand of Icelandic rap. It’s a peculiar thing and I see one kid with fingers firmly in ears but it kind of works. The two of them shout over their backing tracks, back and forth between each other. It’s a change of pace, put it that way. The announcement “This one’s about girls and sex” sends a few more of the crowd scuttling for the door.

Future Islands, recently received attention due to their ‘Seasons’ single but have actually been a going concern since 2007. This had given them plenty of time to hone their craft and the back catalogue to service. The other point of note is frontman Samuel T Herring’s case of ‘dance as if no one is looking,’ as the maxim goes. At various times, he twerks, uses imaginary lassos, bounds, licks his hands, scissor kicks, face slaps, chest beats and punctuates all with poignant gestures. This is not to exclude his unusual and always surprising growl, which is used to good effect throughout. He is an enigmatic frontman, which is a good job at his three bandmates barely crack a smile between them. By the time they play ‘Seasons,’ we are putty in their hands. Oh, and Samuel? We’re all watching.

Retro Stefson (pictured) have stepped in for no shows Jungle. It’s no bad thing. The Stefson boys are on top form and bring their rhythms to Gamla Bíó to good effect. They soon have the crowd—the ones who decided not to queue for Caribou in the freezing cold—hopping and jumping around. ‘Glow’ whips up a frenzy and they can’t put a foot wrong.

Logi must have ran from Gamla Bíó to nearby but wholly unpronounceable Þjóðleikhúskjallarinn, which is a basement in the Icelandic National Theater. He’s here for the final Young Karin show. It’s a belter, too. The bass makes my bones shake but the vocals and sampling are superb. In such an intimate venue, it’s impossible not to dance. If Samuel T. Herring was here, it might prove too much for him.

Originally published on Iceland Review online.

Airwaves ’14 – Day 3. Stolen Hearts.

ÍRiS is first one up at the Nordic House. She is accompanied today by a band of two, playing variously a cello, saw, drum and one of things that you whirled round your head as a kid. ‘Sea Song’ and ‘Day Break’ stand out, and she even switches to French for one song. Her new setup does not detract from her strong, clear voice or from the quality of the songs. Except, maybe, that thing you whirl around your head.

Low Roar was faced with an unusual proposition of not being able to get into his own concert at Bravó, and once he did, had to have his beer passed through the crowd. He played alone and acoustic, and was stunning with his songs of love lost despite his confession that he was just “winging it.” Proof that he can do it just as well without his band or electronics.

Uni Stefson is at Slippbarinn. He’s one of the very talented Stefson brothers and part of Retro Stefson but plays a less happy brand when alone. However, his voice is soulful and the music is slick.

From seemingly nowhere, the weekend starts properly with Lily The Kid. They arrive with a bundle of enthusiasm, with Lilja dancing like a girl possessed. The music is powerful, danceable pop delivered with passion and zest that makes it truly irresistible. Hard to believe that this is their first ever concert. This might just be the warning that airwaves is really here.

Continuing the party, Young Karin (pictured), featuring the other Stefson brother, tear the place apart. Electronica, guitars and seductive vocals that are super infectious. ‘Hearts’ sounds like your favorite song that you never knew. It might just be the song of Airwaves 2014.

It’s time to calm it down a bit. I head through a howling gale to the sanctuary of Fríkirkjan. It’s a wonderful place for a concert, this cozy little church, and looks warm and inviting. Inside it’s barely lit, with candles on the stage and low mood lighting. The crowd fills the pews and peers over the balcony. Snorri Helgason arrives with his usual crew, including Silla, who must be the busiest performer of the festival with her Mr. Silla concerts too. Scrap that, it’s probably Maggi who appears to be the only drummer in Reykjavík and appears on stage everywhere.

Snorri and band play country-tinged songs that center around beautiful harmonies between Snorri and Silla, who take center stage. They perform to a hushed silence, with everyone leaning forward in their seats to catch more of what is happening. ‘Mockingbird’ is an early highlight, with a good mix of songs from Winter Sun and Autumn Skies. The highlight, and finale, is ‘Caroline Knows.’ It’s stunning, with Snorri and Silla even stopping for a private joke before finishing with their final harmonies. This is magical stuff.

At Harpa, Norwegian songstress Farao is just on stage. She’s been recording in Iceland, and toured with Jónsi. I’ve been looking forward to this, but I find myself disappointed. This is just standard synth-pop stuff, albeit much heavier than expected. The sound at Harpa doesn’t help with far too much bass.

Vök are up next, and fair a little better. Now a four piece, they still draw comparison with The XX, although with added saxophone. Clearly local favorites, Vök fill the room quickly, and then get everyone moving. Later, FM Belfast continue the party well into the night. They are quickly becoming Reykjavik’s house band. I don’t suppose that there is much wrong with that.

Originally published by Iceland Review online.

Airwaves ’14 – Day 2. Flying Dragons.

Árstíðir are as serious and melodramatic as ever over at Kex, so I head to Lucky Records for Ingunn Huld, who is in fine form. Just her and an acoustic guitar, she plays one song after another, each more pretty than the last, ending with the sweet ‘Splendid.’

I love discovering new artists at Airwaves. At IÐA Zimsen, the schedule has gone out of the window, meaning I catch a set by Munster somewhat unexpectedly. Four Icelandic lads—they are acoustic, save for the bass. They play superbly catchy folk with a bit of reggae thrown in. Munster play in their socks, one has dressed like a farmer, but they are energetic and I look forward to hearing more from them.

Hinemoa are up next. They produce a more traditional guitar-based sound and have vocal harmonies based around the core of Ásta and Rakel. It’s gentle, pleasant stuff to go with the first beer of the day. I have to say that I’m sure Airwaves has been oversold this year; there seems to be way more people around, with venues often full to capacity, or just uncomfortable to be in. Harpa in particular is struggling to cope with the slim passages being hard work to get through before and after shows, and the downtown venues of Gamla Bíó and Húrra are simply not big enough for the crowds they are rightly attracting. I’m not sure if it’s a case of too many people, or poor scheduling but it means planning ahead is essential, and don’t expect to move venues too often. At least here, I can sit in a bookshop whilst sipping a beer. The bonus is that Hinemoa are actually pretty good.

Óbó is playing at Kaffibarinn. It’s smaller than I remember and—surprise—it’s full. People are sitting on the stairs, and the equipment, and any available space. I manage to squeeze in too—I’ve learnt the Icelandic balance of being polite yet assertive—and it’s worth it. Óbó plays keyboard whilst speaking/singing in his deep baritone voice, whilst his band produce soft warmth using a violin and guitar.

FURA are bass heavy in Iðnó, but we don’t care. I love this old theater by the city pond, it’s one of my favourite venues. FURA are out to impress. They have the beats, the tunes and the vocals. It’s a heady combination, especially when you barely have room to breathe, let alone dance. Björt patrols the stage looking with presence, whilst at the same time singing her heart out. Her colleagues work laptop and guitars with passion, in a defined and honed performance.

Rökkurró have been around for a while; they’re mainstays of the Icelandic music scene. They have just released their third album, Innra, this week. The band has seen some success, but there is a worry that they have reached their limit; that this is the end of the line for them. Within minutes, those worries were blown away. The band filled Iðnó with their clever, intricate pop. The songs from Innra have a fuller, often more complex sound compared to their earlier albums, and the band have translated this into a thrilling live performance, assisted, no doubt, by talented percussionist Doddi.

Hildur has a truly unique voice and puts it to good use on ‘Blue Skies’ and ‘The Backbone,’ with her soaring vocals cutting through the texture around her. “This song is called Flugdrekar,” says Hildur “which means kites, but in Icelandic it means [literally translates to] ‘flying dragons,’ which is way cooler.” I think that a band who sing about flying dragons is fine with me. I leave with a smile on my face.

Originally published on Iceland Review online.