I forgot to ask his name. Didn’t even realize until after I left town that I didn’t get his name. But I got his story, and even without a name, I knew I’d never forget it. How could I, when it was also my own? Read More
Eistnaflug is a remote and mysterious ritual, underground even among the denizens of its home country and virtually unheard of outside of Iceland. More famous festivals like Wacken or Maryland Deathfest make it on to metalhead’s bucket lists. Eistnaflug is more like a Holy Grail, a mythical goal that few expect to find.
But I am here to tell you it is not impossible.
Mere mortals who are not even particularly metal can and have drunk from the Eistnaflug chalice (Icelandic speakers may have just thrown up a little in their mouths at that term). Read on, and I will tell you how. Read More
I started out with a list of back to back shows scattered throughout the festival, only to discover that venue-hopping has its drawbacks. The wind was picking up, which made the walks very cold, and gusts were strong enough to slow my progress. Despite careful triangulation, making it to every scattered show I wanted to see on Thursday wasn’t, um, possible. Read More