At eight, the venue is as empty as one would expect at such an early hour. A shame that Original Melody are stuck with such a shitty slot, as I thought they’d climbed a wee bit higher up the rungs of the domestic hip-hop scene than this.
They stall for a while so that a semi respectable crowd might materialize. The show starts off with a highly repetitive rhyme scheme to a subdued atmosphere but good cheers in between songs. By the second number shit mounts a bit, but the beats and the melody are pedestrian at best and, again, really repetitive.
The music improves as the set progresses and the English lyrics- a rarity in Icelandic hip-hop- bear no hint of a local accent. The crowd though is laidback and a bit unresponsive.
By the end O.M start dipping into old hip-hop samples and reminiscing about times they’re maybe to young to remember. Weird to me, but apparently a part of hip-hop culture, as the audience participates in the call and response sing-alongs.
A bet seems to have been in progress between the members throughout the show as to who would fuck up most often. U.S raised tall man Raggi steps away with the obligation to buy a round of beers.
Enter the 7berg
Next on the agenda is solo artist 7berg, who enters to the sounds of prison sirens. Now we are firmly in the realm of mother tongue rhyming, where we’ll be lingering throughout the night.
The crowd had thinned quite a bit by this point. The artist scores major points for launching into a song about skateboarding and he gets the crowd going, but a smaller crowd than one might have wished for.
And another skateboarder takes stage
EmmSjé Gauti is but a kid, but a likeable kid at that. His set kicks of to the tune of a keyboard and a fit of whining from the keyboard player.
Right of the bat Gauti is catchier than the preceding acts, but the R&B vibe is frankly a bit hard to swallow. The artist dedicates his second number to all the weed smokers out there and receives mad props for taking a stand in the fight against hypocrisy. Halfway through I’ve had it with the sugary sweetness of it all, but the chicks seem to dig it, so fair play to him. But then the auto-tune kicks in and all is lost.
Miss Unique seems fucking angry and mad aggressive as she packs the house with a pumped audience. “Write how boring this is” a friend chimes in, but frankly this is the most fun I’ve had all night. I’ll just put this one down to popular decision, or to quote Jamal from Toronto “…bitch owned that shit!”
Diddi goes on first by his own self and slings rhymes about bitches and money. Pretty decent stuff.
Upon taking stage, FL immediately starts spouting off about how legendary they are. Fair enough, as the are probably the most respected rap crew around these parts, but that kind of an attitude is about as cool as constantly wearing your own band’s T-shirt.
By this time the crowd is sparser than expected for such a popular outfit, but I guess that’s the state of Icelandic hip-hop nowadays.
The performance is tight and flowing, but the crowd ain’t pumping like it should. The FL performance exceeds the expectations set by the previous home-grown acts, (but pales in comparison to Miss Unique) but after the umpteenth beatific minute shit just gets old.
By the audience build up before the Blaz Roca show it would seems that he is indeed shit hot. Despite the long break between acts, he still enters fashionably late- bringing EmmSjé Gauti with him as well as some guy whose identity escapes me. The lyrics ring with similar maturity as the rest of ‘em. Still, the massive turnout bears witness to his popular supremacy. Fun times.