Published December 5, 2005
An album seemingly intended for the music collections of those who can’t be bothered to have a musical taste, Yfir Esjuna looks as perfect on the shelf of your local Hagkaup as it does on the Ikea-purchased coffee table next to your strident menopause-aged aunt’s useless stereo. It is to Helgi’s credit, however, that his theatrical bluesman posturing saved this waste of plastic – a collection of Icelandic blues godfather Magnús Eiríksson’s songs as sung by an affable burnout of a film-and-theatre actor – from becoming a total migraine, and the percussion on Gamli Góði Vinur almost makes it worth listening to again.
Don’t get me wrong – this album isn’t bad. On the contrary, it’s spotless; every T has been diligently crossed and every lowercase J adamantly dotted. But is that really what one wants out of an album?
But I digress. I guess I’d trade a beer for the sheer kitsch of owning such a pointless trinket.
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