I start my Friday night of Airwaves at Grapewaves, and I arrive just as Snorri Helgason is taking to the Lækjartorg tower stage. Always earnest — even more so in this stripped-down setting — Snorri’s music is thoughtful and I deeply enjoy watching his family sit in the tower with him as he performs. I’m excited to see this venue in action, and I watch a crowd generate as tourists, Airwavesers, and friends of Snorri stop by to absorb the sounds radiating from this iconic structure.
Snorri’s songs are bright and natural, and his use of the harmonica at times only adds to this effect. Before the last song of the set, he admits to having cold hands and winds down Friday’s instalment of Grapewaves. I catch a short break before heading onto the next – Iðnó.
As I enter, someone thrusts a tiny rectangle of paper with the Faroese flag on it: a free drink coupon, courtesy of the Faroes. Splendid! I have my first Hvít Jól of the season and it’s great. A visitor here for his 7th Airwaves and I make small talk about Christmas beers before Dania O. Tausen takes the stage.
Dania O. Tausen and her band have a remarkable sound. The band blends acoustic and electric guitar and their dynamicness is something they have fun with, which leaves them, and us, smiling. After talks yesterday about bands playing venues that don’t suit them, I think to myself that Iðnó was perfect for them.
At one point, explaining the song “eg burdi keypt mær hús í bergen” (“I should buy a house in Bergen” – because planes trying to land in the Faroe Islands often get diverted to Bergen), Dania addresses the camaraderie between Icelanders and the Faroese through the shared experience of being from an island. In another song, “kann eg hava armin soleiðis her?,” she teaches the crowd to ask for permission to put their arms around the shoulder of another in Faroese, and asks the audience to do so for the song. I’d say about half did, and it made for a sweet moment of commingled swaying to the music.
After this, I end up wandering over to NASA to catch the first show of the night there, which is Rosettes. An eight-piece band, Rosettes is loud and fun and full of energy. I really enjoy seeing each band member’s personal style and how they’re all coming together to perform and dance. At one point, a band member has their saxophone hanging around their neck while playing the flute, and I delight in that image. I don’t stay too long as I’ve promised to meet a friend, but I’m glad I stopped by.
Divine space for some transcendent music
After refuelling a bit (admittedly, with candy), I head over to Fríkirkjan to see Klemens Hannigan. Although he’s no stranger to Airwaves, this is the festival debut of his solo project. The HATARI member shows us his range and talent as he weaves through deep-pop and more brooding, melancholic songs. The church is full and the windows are fogged. At one point someone next to me spills some of their Tuborg Julebryg and, although I’m not particularly religious, I’m not too pleased with the moment – the event felt more sacred than that. Klemens Hannigan’s set was discordant and haunting, and seems to linger in the church even after he finishes playing and the audience gives a standing ovation.
I’m staying in Fríkirkjan for the next show too, so I make my way closer to the front and spend my time sitting and pondering if I like Fríkirkjan as a venue. I resolved that although it is awkward as people try to get into pews and does have some constraints when it is up to capacity, sitting down is definitely nice and the interior is so stunningly beautiful that it’s worth it.
A hush falls over the crowd, and it seems like we’re being expected to reach full silence. I start thinking to myself how I plan on writing about this moment – I’m impressed by the intent to try and hold silence together, how that feels impossible with this many people, how we rarely are able to focus on being quiet together in this time of technology and rapid movement, how the wood of the church is shifting and breathing beneath our collective weight.
“I just went to the bathroom, and everyone went completely silent?” says Sóley, breaking the quiet in the room, explaining what really just happened, and everyone laughs. Explaining that she intends to play the set straight through, and that because she’ll be sitting at the piano she’ll be out of sight, Sóley addresses the crowd before beginning. She introduces the band, which includes an accordion, mellotron, moog, and her brother and father, and shares that filmmaker Samantha Shay will be projecting video from both Shay’s film work and the Mother Melancholia dance film, a collaboration between the two.
As soon as the music and film start, I’m mesmerised. The sound and visual coalesce into something so thoughtful and tender and vulnerable that I’m extremely glad it’s being played through without interruption so I can fully submerge myself. The projected video focuses on bodies, nature, elegance, strength; it goes underwater and out into Icelandic nature and explores an ornate house. As the show progresses, we hear the sound germinate from delicate into discord, and then ebb back down to softness. Faintly, I hear a baby babbling in the back of a track, and as I’m focusing to hear that –
“Já, I haven’t decided the end for this yet, so, thank you!” Sóley says, ending the show. We process out of the church into the night.
Surprise guests!
I head straight to Iðnó for my next show of the night: Kaktus Einarsson. Still on the tails of his latest release Lobster Coda, I’m excited to see this performed live. Kaktus comes out in a sport jacket that immediately reminds me of a young Damon Albarn (who is also a longtime mentor and friend of Kaktus, and who is featured on a song on this album). There’s a little blip in sound, which leads him to say mid-introduction “my name is Kaktus Einarsson and…my mic is feedbacking.” He has fun on stage, moving around and dancing, and the room is packed full.
Excitingly, another artist featured on Lobster Coda comes out to sing – Nanna, and they perform their “Be This Way.” “I’ve played enough Airwaves to know that you all can do better for Nanna!” he says as Nanna leaves the stage. Unfortunately, this is also when I leave – I have to make my way to the Art Museum.
Because it’s time for The Vaccines! It’s been 12 years since their last Airwaves. And they’re fun. Justin Young is expressive, dramatic, and engaging, Icelander Árni Árnason is amazing. Everyone around me is singing along, there’s so much joy. And then, for the last song, Árni Árnason brings out Einar Örn for an incredible duet of Purrkur Pillnikk’s “Ekki enn.” What a show, what a night.
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