I spent last night at All Tomorrows Parties Iceland, a festival in Keflavík featuring artists like Public Enemy and Iggy Pop. Given that the festival is literally hosted in a carpark (bunker?), I wasn’t really expecting that much, but it was a fun night.
In the same vein as my last festival review, I’m going to do 5 Most Notable Things about ATP Thursday.
5. The Person That Returned My Credit Card
During Public Enemy, I received a mysterious Facebook chat. Some Icelandic man with an unpronounceable name was like, “You at ATP?”
I first imagined that this was maybe some Tinder match who had stalked me on Facebook (happens more than you think, weirdos) but actually it turns out I am super presumptuous and this guy was not creepy at all—in fact, he was actually incredible.
Said man had found my credit card on the floor of the concert. I had only been at ATP for 20 minutes and was completely unaware that I had lost my card so this was bizarre in a lot of ways.
Anyway, I met up with him and he said he found it on the floor so he searched me on Facebook. My card is black and the place was pitch dark so I’m convinced that he was either an angel or had great eyesight. Thank god (or carrots).
But how freakin’ nice is that? What a winner. I bought him a beer.
See, I am from New York City—this would NEVER have happened there. Not only are people mean, but no one would ever take the effort to actually Facebook search you. I’ve had my card lost/stolen ~3 times and each time the thief has attempted to spend like $500+ at Target. Once they spent $400 on long-distance calls. Who calls that much? Isn’t that what Skype is for?
Actually, this one time I left my phone in a cab and the next day got a call from some rich woman on the Upper East Side. I went to pick it up and she lectured me on being responsible. This was so much better than that though—no lecture at all.
4. Flava Flav
For all you Icelanders reading: in the mid-2000s there was a reality show in America called Flavor of Love. It stared Flavor Flav as an old rapper looking for love. Sound cliche? Yes, but trust me, it is seriously one of the best reality shows ever. Not only did it define trashy TV, but it also allowed for a spin-off called Rock of Love staring Brett Michaels (and later Daisy of Love starring some stripper from Rock of Love). I loved the girls of Rock of Love and follow many of them on Instagram. I credit them with giving me the inspiration to get lots of tattoos and hair extensions.
But anyway, Flavor of Love is indescribable . It’s amazingly entertaining. Here’s an example—in this moment, one of the lovely ladies of the house poops on the floor.
But really, for most people in my generation, this is what we know of Flavor Flav. He’s a crazy reality star. Therefore, being at a concert and seeing him RAP, I just couldn’t take it. It was too funny. I kept expecting him to initiate a fight between two girls who really REALLY want to be famous. Probably would have been better than his rapping, to be honest.
In honour of him, I am going to host a rewatch party of all of Flavor of Love season one on Sunday. You are all invited.
3. “Car Parties”
The fucking festival is in a carpark. It’s a concrete wasteland that feels kind of Soviet (even though it’s an American NATO base, I know.) There’s really no place to hang out.
Anyway, if you want to drink and don’t want to pay the obscene Icelandic beer prices, you gotta bring your own. And considering that it was raining last night, you couldn’t be outside the car.
This meant that I spent some time just sitting in a car drinking. It was like I was back in high school! I felt so suburban, like That 70s Show or something. Windows got foggy, gossip was shared, someone had a panflute… I think me playing the panflute is on someone’s Snapchat story.
It’s always funny how people adapt at festivals to the different weathers and layouts. Here, that meant car parties.
2. The Fact That Someone Recognized Me As “Intern Hannah”
This country is too small. It kind of freaks me out. But yeah, at least they liked my article. Hello 😉
1. Iggy Pop’s Body
Not to sound too much like a white girl, but I can’t even with Iggy Pop’s body. I just can’t.
Well, props to him for still showing it off at his age, really. I hope to be just as confident when I am that old. Honestly, I have trouble wearing a bathing suit and I’m supposedly in the prime of my life. I can’t imagine running around shirtless in tight pants as a 68-year old. That’s older than my parents. What fountain of youth is he drinking from?
It’s weird because you look at him and he’s a dinosaur, but he’s still totally got it. His whole deal feels authentically insane. Yes, that’s what it is: when you watch him, you just know he’s actually fucking crazy, so you’re like, “I’m seeing a true artist right now.” Freakin’ Van Gogh or David Foster Wallace, right?
Honourable mention: I saw Vision Fortune for a bit and my friend had this to say: “Ok. I get what they’re trying to do. There’s smoke. There’s weird music. I’m pretty fucked up right now, so I should be enjoying this. But it’s like I’ve seen it all before. I’m bored. This has been done before. Everything’s been done before.” We all get cynical sometimes.