Inspired By Iceland
Music Pavilion Park, Reykjavík
01/07/2010

If the headlines are to be believed, Iceland is twirling speedily down the pan; exploding and bankrupt. But, as The Fly heads out to the Inspired By Iceland gig in Reykjavík, there seem to be very few people running around in rags and on fire.

Musically, of course, Iceland’s reputation has been in good standing for many years, and has become arguably the island’s most famous export. How can any place that has delivered Sigur Rós, Emiliana Torrini and Björk be anything less than a musical Mecca? So as part of a campaign to lure tourists back to the country – which, by the way, is neither covered in ash, unreachable by plane nor ravaged with desperate, penniless looters – they decided to put on a gig to show the rest of the world that it’s still a beautiful place to be. And looking at the crowd, that’s a fair point to make.

Among the artists who play live from a park in the city centre are Damien Rice, Glen Hansard and Spiritualized, presumably to make sure the rest of the world is definitely watching, but also perhaps because they share much of the eerie folk and dream-like sheen synonymous with Icelandic music. First band Amiina are a beautiful instrumental lot who seem to be calling the gathering crowds over like sirens. If sirens played glockenspiels, that is. Next, Steindor Andersen and Hilmar Orn are spectacular, in an understated sort of way. Steindor is a fisherman, who chants in a way that sends shivers up your spine - although for all The Fly knows of Icelandic, he could be reading out his shopping list - whilst Hilmar is an experimental musician apparently famous for pioneering the use of computers in music; sadly, today they only have a boring analogue-style orchestra to play with. Parabolur are a bizarre sight, imagine Stomp, but instead of dustbin lids they’re hitting “old telecommunication radio disc covers”. It may seem silly at first, but after a couple of minutes when the synth kicks in we’re dancing despite ourselves.

Everyone else on the bill sort of reminds us of someone else, and as the ignorant British gig-goers are unable to pronounce any band’s name in an immediate post-gig breakdown, this is the only way The Fly can remember them: Seabear are reminiscent of The Libertines with fiddles – the frontman looking like he’s just been punched in both eyes and done a few shots immediately before coming onstage. (Just to clarify, this means they are good.) Hafdis Huld is somewhere between Cerys Matthews and Laura Marling, with a beautiful voice and charming stage presence. Dikta is just enough like Ed Harcourt to make up for the large helping of James Blunt. Mammut? that’s easy, they’re pure Yeah Yeah Yeahs minus the electro, but with extra accordion which – if you’re reading this Karen O – does add that extra something.

Kate Wellham