On my first day of Airwaves, I’m unfortunately already a bit exhausted. It’s been a hell of a week, and it’s bitterly windy. Earlier, I had been literally knocked down by the wind in front of a Hreyfill taxi, so my palms were stinging and my ego bruised. Looking for a soul-filling pick-me-up, I start my night with an off-venue show at Lucky Records: Andervel.
I arrive a couple minutes late, so I’m greeted by the (as always) cosy and warm atmosphere José Luis Anderson lovingly curates. Sinking into Andervel’s music feels the same to me as sitting down in the hot tub at the pool on an especially cold day. You can’t tell how windy it is outside Lucky Records tonight; we’re sheltered in the band’s embrace.
Andervel tells us while introducing “A Kinder Way” that they hope to create space to explore kindness and to be soft, now more than ever. I glance around and I see a relatively even mix of locals, Airwaves visitors and tourists who just found their way in off the street. I spy one half of a couple mouth to the other “should we go?” and the other contentedly smiles wide and mouths “no!” José is joined on stage by four others, and at one point José jokes they “wanted to bring an organ, but there was no space.”
When the set is over, my companion and I grit our teeth and head back outside – it’s time for the Airwaves Opening Party at Hafnarhús, and they’ve promised free drinks.
And that’s pretty much all that’s there. After watching Stöð 2 record some news and some fantastic DJing from Twin Twin Situation (Hermigervill & Ívar Pétur), we head right back out to catch Magnús Jóhann at Smekkleysa.
Fúllt hús
Upon arriving, I see bodies lining the staircase down to the show and hear the faintest whisper of piano. “I’ve only seen Smekkleysa this crowded for Björk’s DJ sets” I remark. I see an opening as a big group move toward the exit and we fill the hole they’ve left at the back of the room.
I catch a glimpse of Magnús Jóhann’s two piano set up that he is bouncing between — not between songs like an artist switches between an acoustic and an electric guitar, but during songs. He is playing both pianos! I unfortunately find myself alternating between standing on my toes and watching through the phone screen of the person videoing in front of me. I make peace with the fact that I won’t see and instead just close my eyes and listen. Technical and experimentative, Magnús Jóhann skillfully flits between raw piano like that of his film scores Ljósvikingar and Owls, and synthy oddity like that of Concrete Box. I enjoy his set immensely, and he captivates the entire crowd.
Kick It Up A Notch
Stopping at Krónan for a banana and a protein bar, I have a couple of minutes until I’m due elsewhere and I relish in the bustling streets. I realise that I’ve begun my Airwaves experience with two cosy and soft sets – so I’m ready to crank it up a notch. I head to Gaukurinn and have to wade through some Airwaves-goers that are confused by the Plus versus Regular queueing system to reach K.óla.
It’s not often you get to see a flute and viola on the Gaukurinn stage, and I am oh-so glad I am seeing it now. Dreamy and fun, K.óla taps into the energy you’d imagine if you read the title of her album from this year: Sex on a cloud. Released in June in English, and just a week ago in Icelandic, K.óla sings with care and passion about love, life, friendship. She explores the range of emotions between it all through ranging from soft singing to the belting in “Dansa meira”. As the set progresses the energy in the room rises, and she gets Gaukurinn to sing along a few times.
It’s Art Museum Time!
As the set ends I rush across the street hoping to catch the end of Rayvn Lenae and I do. I get to see my first non-Iceland-based artist of the festival — here’s where the night really cranks up. An artist lauded for her unique and captivating voice, the room is hooked by her energy. With her confidence she struts across the stage, and completing the tableau is the group of boys jumping up and down at her feet in the front row.
As Rayvn Lenae’s set finishes there’s a small surge of folks who, like me, are hoping to make it to the front to see the next artist: Magdalena Bay. They might be the performers I was most excited to see at Airwaves this year. I’m lucky enough to have seen them before, but I haven’t seen them since the release of their fascinating August 2024 album Imaginal Disk. I distinctly remember being absolutely stunned by their background visuals last time I saw them, so I’m really looking forward to seeing what they have in store for us tonight.
One half of Mag Bay, Matthew Lewin, sneaks onto stage before the set to drop off a (I think) paper-mache, red spikey crown of sorts, and someone near me utters a “hvað er þetta?!” No one has an answer.
As the show starts, the visual is centred on an ornate gold frame with lightly flapping wings. In the frame oscillates a menagerie of short clips: singer Mica Tenenbaum serenading you, hypnotic spirals, the earth, animals, clocks, biological diagrams of eyes, and much, much more. They’ve got a characteristic tint of grainy VHS-esqe warp to their visuals that aligns with their synthy, internet-pop music and creation of a world that feels both reminiscent of the beginning of the internet and 1000 years into the future. Mica is fully immersed into this world while performing, and it works. There are costume changes, lighting warps the created world and the mood, and there’s a level of theatrics that lets you immerse yourself too. The crowd was having fun; there was one Icelandic guy in front of me who knew every word and ended the last song with sweaty hair and a huge smile. So. Much. Fun.
As Magdalena Bay concluded their set, I watched a changing of the guards. Twenty-somethings in cool outfits made their way out, excitedly remarking on the show they just saw, as I watched a woman force her way to the barricade, grab it with both hands, and turn triumphantly to her companion. Men in flannel or wool fill the front rows, and I know it’s time for my last show of the night: Hjálmar.
Don’t get me wrong – I like Hjálmar. They’ve got spirit, warmth, and their big band approach is enjoyable and filling. Plus, I’ve actually never seen them live. So I’m excited. As they take the stage and their Icelandic-sung reggae saturates Hafnarhús, the room is light and many are singing along. It does look like this crowd is way more local than tourist, which I expected. I nearly decide to call it a night, but then I hear the opening notes to “Ég vil fá mér kærustu” and I decide to stay a bit longer. After a few more songs, including a new one from Steini, I feel satiated and head out (as I unfortunately have to catch the last bus of the night). Can’t wait to do it all again tomorrow.
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