Music I Liked – Reykjavik Calling

Taste of Iceland has become an annual tradition for me. I try to make it to as many events as I can each year: the tasting, the museum exhibits, laser shows, and literary events. But for me the biggest event is the Reykjavik Calling concert. In the past it was held at Neumos with some cool collaborations between local and Icelandic artists. Now it’s in KEXP’s Gathering Space with a simple lineup of two Iceland bands followed by a local band. It’s a simple setup, but it always lets me see Icelandic bands that rarely play Seattle, and I always discover local music I’ve previously overlooked. This year, I saw Gyda, Vök, and Navvi. I liked it.

GYDA

GYDA is the solo project of Gyða Valtýsdóttir, who was a founding member of múm. I’ve liked múm since before I knew about Iceland. It’s funny, actually, how many Icelandic bands I was into before I knew they were Icelandic. Anyway, like JFDR from Samaris (another one of my pre-Iceland-obsession bands) did last year, Gyða is stepping forward with a solo album. Evolution was released on bandcamp the day before the Reykjavik Calling concert, so I hadn’t heard any of it before the performance. (Actually, Gyða released a solo album of classical music, Epicycle, last year, too, but I missed it.)

Gyða walked on stage barefoot, wearing a silk and velvet dress that could have been a nightgown. Her hair covered her face and as she played the cello hung around her neck, her elbows jutted out and upward. The visual effect reminded me a bit of Japanese horror movies, aided by the slightly spooky sound of the first song. That slightly creepy edge kept the rest of the show from being too Lilith Fair.

Gyða’s voice is as soft and breathy as you remember from múm. But her music has a distinctly Celtic feeling as well. She performs with bottom-heavy string quartet of two cellos, a viola and a violin. You all know how I love the low notes. Even with so much low end, and even amplified, the music is so gauzy that a conversation at the back of room was audible in front of the stage.

The result was a respectful, even solemn atmosphere. The songs, mostly in English, were about birth and death and making love – mundane topics made sacred by their musical treatment. In other hands, it could have all been too pretentious and twee, but GYDA’s music is so ethereal and her approach so sincere that the end result feels druidic. At the end of each song, the applause felt almost disrespectful, like clapping at the end of church.

Vök

KEXP discovered Vök for me and I listened to their EP Tension until it wore grooves in my brain, even though I pronounced the name Vök wrong until this Saturday (it doesn’t rhyme with fuck, it rhymes with work). Anyway as much as loved Tension, it had only 5 songs, so eventually I had to listen to something else. Now they finally have a full-length album out, Figure. Even if I didn’t usually go to Reykjavik Calling, there was no way I’d miss seeing Vök.

It won Best Electronic Album at the 2018 Iceland Music Awards, but it’s not easy to find here. They aren’t selling it on bandcamp, or on their own website. I finally got it from my last resort, Google Play. Maybe if I’d been more patient I could have found a physical copy at Sonic Boom in Ballard, but I couldn’t wait for more Vök.

Originally formed as a duo by singer Margrét Rán and saxophonist Andri Már, but now they exist as a four-piece with a guitarist and drummer. I wouldn’t categorize them as an electronic band. I’d place them squarely as a pop band, but one that transcends the commercial and disposable trappings of the genre. Like any pop band with a sax in it, they evoke the ’80s. But there is also something spare and elegant about their songs.

If Berlin and The XX had a baby, it would be Vök. Margrét’s voice shares some of the breathiness that Icelandic singers are famous for, but where a lot of Icelandic women go for the Björk’s yodelish acrobatics, Margrét adds intensity more directly, akin to Lorde or Chvrches’ Lauren Mayberry.

Oh, and do they ever get intense live. It may be electro-pop but it’s so misleading. Songs start out atmospheric and liquid. But they don’t build naturally or drop the bass. The drums crash in like the Kool-Aid man and the whole room is dancing to an entirely new beat. It’s a formula they use over and over – sometimes more than once in a song – but it is always effective. Once I even caught myself headbanging. It doesn’t hurt that they are all just so cute. You can tell they are having a good time, and they really like these songs themselves. That guileless enthusiasm, so at odds with the sophistication of their sound, is completely infectious.

NAVVI

An electronic duo like Vök started out, this local act was a perfect complement to the Icelandic bands. Like both of the bands that preceded them, NAVVI supplemented their basic sound with a spare, sparkly guitar. But they came full circle, returning to a slower, more relaxed pace. Kristin Henry’s silky voice wrapped around the music, sometimes coming out on top, other times an almost inaudible layer of texture.

If Vök was the party, NAVVI were the close friends who stick around after everyone else has left, sipping wine on the couch and having deep conversations no one will quite remember in the morning. NAVVI’s music was appealingly deep and shadowed. I expect to return to their new album Ultra often in the coming winter.

Aside:

Can I end with an aside? When I was young, people said if you weren’t attractive, you should become a musician. These days, it seems like physical beauty is a prerequisite for musicians. From Gyða’s otherworldliness to Kristin Henry’s weaponized cheekbones, this concert was a feast for the eyes as well as the ears.

During Gyða’s set, I overheard a woman behind me whisper, “She looks like a woodland fairy.” A man standing next me when Margrét introduced the band turned to me. He said, “They’re all so cute I can’t stand it.” In the same voice as the stalker in Blades of Glory saying, “I want to wear your skin, Jimmy.” I overheard someone else say, “Seriously, do any of those people even have pores?” It’s nice to watch pretty people make beautiful music. But I feel sorry for all the lonely, ugly people now that music is so pretty.