From Iceland — Way More Than 99 Problems: Hannah Jane's Secret Solstice Diary Day 3

Way More Than 99 Problems: Hannah Jane’s Secret Solstice Diary Day 3

Way More Than 99 Problems: Hannah Jane’s Secret Solstice Diary Day 3

Published June 19, 2016

Hannah Jane Cohen
Photo by
Timothée Lambrecq

Oh God, what a day/night. The highs are getting higher and the lows are getting lower. I’m so emotional. I’m all over the place. It’s like I’m pregnant. Maybe I am pregnant. I’m really telling you this review is going to be a struggle, just like reading Ulysses. That’s why you should just sparknotes Ulysses. It’s the same thing really. Want a sparknotes of this review? Sorry brah, it sucks to suck.

I started the day off with some sports. Yea, that’s right. Iceland v. Hungary. It was rainy and windy but that didn’t stop us from getting to Solstice early and watching the match at Valhalla on the big screen. I use football as an excuse to get really riled up and yell a lot, and that’s exactly what I did. Those last 5 minutes though… Man, that was intense. I’m 100% that Hungary cheated. In fact, I even posted a racist rant on my Snapchat. Good thing I don’t know any Hungarian people. I still think Birkir Bjarnason is the hottest thing ever. He’s like Thor but authentic, you know what I mean? Áfram Ísland!

I love this whole football thing because people get so into it. Everyone was wearing flags and painting their faces and yes, I do believe this happens with other sports things in other places, but I don’t watch sports so this whole thing is very new to me. I was surrounded by foreigners at the festival who were just so into it. They were chanting and booing and cheering and c’mon, it’s for a country they are only visiting. It makes me tear up.

But yea, fuck the Hungarians. They didn’t deserve that goal. They—trust me—100% cheated.



After the game, I moseyed around for a little bit before going to see 7Berg. I don’t want to concentrate on appearances, but I must say, he had fabulous hair. It was in french braids with flowers. Ozzy (who is 7Berg) is so effing likable. He’s so cute. He dances around onstage with these braids and you’re just totally in love. I’m struggling to find a comparison, but I feel these Fresh-Prince-Will vibes from him. I don’t know, don’t trust my opinions, I’m drunk. But people were really dancing during his set. It was super cute! If you’ve never heard 7Berg, you should check out this song, it’s my favourite! Sorry for the vanilla review Ozzy, I’ll make it spicier next time.

Next was Emmsjé Gauti. He was great. He’s always great. He’s just literally always great. How does he do it? Who knows. He’s just constantly an incredible performer who is always 100% on their top game. I’ve never seen him be anything less than perfect and I’ve seen him a ton. He also always looks so stylish. This time he was wearing camouflage so I snapstoried him and wrote, “I can’t find Gauti.” I thought that was funny. He’s such a little guy but when he wears a hat he gets a few more inches. I think that’s why he wears them. Maybe he should get Prince shoes. Where does he get his clothes? You know when I moved in here he told my friend that he was worried I was going to fuck with his clothes in the laundry room. Like Jesus Christ, who do you think you are? You aren’t GP.


Gauti is not in this picture.

Anyway, it was kinda rainy during the show so the crowd wasn’t going too crazy but Gauti always has so much energy. I will say though that he always does the same little “stage-performance” stuff every time. Like during that song that goes like “bmmm bmmm …. f-f-f-f-f-f-f-fire”—you totally know what I’m talking about, right?—he always takes a drumstick and hits the symbols, so if you thought “Wow, Gauti is really getting into this performance!” you were totally wrong. You’re not special at all. No one’s special really. Except for Aron Can.

Also have you seen his drummer? The dude from Agent Fresco. Kelly? His hair is literally *fire emoji*.

I saw Gauti later at Prikið and he only asked that I not give out his address in my review. Yea, let that sink in. Jesus Gauti, I know you think I’m crazy, but do you think I’m retarded? Why would I endanger your safety? On that note, he lives at ** ********** (NOTE: This address has been redacted by Helga, the Grapevine editor. I’m so sorry, Gauti.)

After Gauti, I hustled to GKR. I love GKR. I once called him the Michael Cera of the Icelandic rap scene, and I know that sounds like a backhanded compliment but it totally isn’t. He’s just so fucking cute and quirky. I am going to rephrase my comparison: he is not the Michael Cera of the scene but rather the manic pixie dream girl. Is that better? I mean he had this cute little blue outfit with a GKR jacket. Gaukur, where can we buy those?


I am so sensitive.

And man, the fucking crowd loved him. When “Morgunmatur” came on, everyone literally died. Literally. He killed everyone. Spread that around: GKR is a murmurer. I mean a murderer, sorry that was auto-correct and I thought it was funny. But yea, fuck it, I have no idea where I’m going with this. I think I was trying to make a joke.

Let’s get back to the review: GKR is also a motherfucking great dancer. He jumps up and down a lot and he has the 90s dream boy Nick Carter hair and it bounces. I love it. Oh fuck, I miss Nick Carter. What happened to him? I heard he got into meth. Never do meth, Gaukur. I’ll get really sad.

Next up was Agent Fresco. Ah! I love this band so much!!! Before I talk about their show though, I need to issue a little public apology. I first reviewed them at Eistnaflug, and I started that with the statement, “Jesus Christ, why the hell are they playing here?” I was 100% wrong guys. I did not get your music then, but I get it now. In fact, I listen to your songs all the time. You guys are amazing. Better than GP. Way better than Of Monsters and Men. Fucking better than stupid Björk. Yea, I’m a little drunk-angry right now but we’re chugging through this review.

Hear this: Arnór Dan is the best vocalist in Iceland. Tell that to everyone you know. He’s also the most emotive performer I’ve seen. I have a tar black soul and when I hear his lovely tones I just melt. I want to sing like him. Arnór, will you teach me your ways?


Look at that shirt.

I could only watch Fresco for a bit though, because I really wanted to catch Valby Bræður at Gimli. I’ve never see these guys live before, but I was super excited cause I really like them. The blonde one, Alex, 100% has the fastest flow of any rapper in Iceland. He’s insane. I was blown away. The other one, Jakob, is great too. They also have these cool gang snapback hats (it’s like 33MOB?) and since it looks like I’m not getting anywhere with Glacier Mafia, I may as well get one of those, right?

Best part of the Valby show though, was that they passed joints around to the audience!!! And the security didn’t stop them!! Woohoo!! Not that I do drugs, if you’re reading this Mom. Please no one send this article to my Mom. Mom, I’m so sorry you have to read your daughter write stuff like this. I hope you aren’t disappointed. I know you wish I was stalking someone like Gloria Steinem rather than Gísli Pálmi but I can’t help it. I was born this way Mom. It’s not a phase.

Well ok.

After Valby, I hustled over to see XXX Rottweiler. I was a little bit too drunk but I’m still going to review it like I had any idea what was going on. Ok, last time I reviewed them—Jesus, I’m cringing as I copy/paste this—I wrote that they were, “cool dads proving there’s a myriad of ways to continue living the thug life.” Yea, that happened. I need to publicly apologized for this statement. They are not cool dads. None of them have kids.

Anyway, Rottweiler was way more crowded than I anticipated. Not that like, I didn’t think there would be people there but people were going so fucking crazy. I know I’m supposed to be some sort of rap fan but I only know like 2 Rottweiler songs so I was with my friends and just totally pretending I had any idea what the fuck was going on. People had fun. They are really good performers. I seriously wish I could give a better review but that’s how drunk I was. Maybe it was the joints from the Valby show. Not that I smoked any (Mom.)

They have this new song called “Negla.” OK, I don’t speak Icelandic but I think the chorus goes like “Bara Negla!” blah blah blah “Bara Negla!” Yea, I just listened to it again, it does. Ok, didn’t they fucking just release a song called “Baraseira!” Why would you make your last two singles RHYME? That is so bizarre!!! That’s like OK, I’m Lady Gaga and I just released “Poker Face” and my next song is called “Poke this Mace.” Fuck, I’m sitting here laughing so hard at that awful joke I just made. I am so funny. Or like Rihanna has a song where the chorus is just “Work work work work work, etc.” and then she puts out a new song where the chorus is just, “Lurk lurk lurk lurk lurk, etc.” Like, why would you do that? Bent, Blaz, the other guy whose name I don’t know, why?

I later ran into Bent—wait, hold up, why is his name “Bent”? I’m pretty sure he is straight—and he asked me to make sure I mention how good-looking he is. That’s no joke, that was the request, so now we know where his artistic priorities lie. He also—and this is verbatim—said, “And don’t mention STDs, Hannah.” That’s a bit sketchy. I wasn’t going to mention STDs (Why the fuck would I? How weird would that be?) but now you guys are all thinking about it, right? Have you, the reader, had an STD? What is it like? I know nothing about that. Bad things like that don’t happen to perfect people like me.


That’s not XXX Rottweiler.

God it’s been a weird fucking day. I’m pretty sure I broke into someone’s car and I’m pretty sure I was robbed. But like, I guess these things just happen sometimes. Also, I was dancing with all my friends on the balcony of Hell and this weirdo photographer came over and tried to get all these sexy angles of us and we just totally let him do it. Why didn’t we stand up for ourselves? He didn’t ask for consent. He totally took advantage of a drunk girl. That’s rape. We were raped. Oh my god, this article has gotten to the point where I am saying we were raped. We were not raped. No one was raped. I mean maybe someone was raped last night, I hope not, but it wasn’t me.

Well we’re here. Obviously I need to give an update on the GP situation. So I went to the VIP area of Hell to get a drink—I like going there, it makes me feel exclusive—and I literally turned around and ran right into him. My face turned so red and then he was like, “Hannah! I read your article! I loved it!” and gave me a hug. I mean I did refer to him as the messiah so he should probably be happy. But he seemed like he genuinely didn’t think I was completely insane, but that’s probably how I would treat a stalker so they wouldn’t kill me, but who knows. I’m not going to kill anyone. Dude actually, can you imagine if after this article, I killed someone? The papers would be like, “We should have known. She’s been writing crazy shit about it for days and the Grapevine has been publishing all of it.” I bet you the Grapevine would go under. Yea, fuck the Grapevine. I’m gonna kill someone. I’m gonna get you all unemployed Helga, John, York, Jon Ben, and Helgi—these are the people who work at the Grapevine. Who should I kill? What about like… Björk?

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