From Iceland — The Slimiest Festival In Iceland Is Almost Upon Us

The Slimiest Festival In Iceland Is Almost Upon Us

Published July 17, 2024

The Slimiest Festival In Iceland Is Almost Upon Us
Rex Beckett
Photo by
Elvar Örn Egilsson & Andrés Rein Baldursson

Growing up in ’90s Canada, whenever I had the chance to watch cable TV at a friend’s house it was all about Nickelodeon game shows, where the greatest thrill came from contestants getting a bucket of green goop surreptitiously dumped on their heads. It was called getting slimed. I always wondered how it felt, smelled, tasted and sounded as it splooshed atop one’s cranium. What a time to be alive.

The same spontaneous, playful and impish energy exudes at Mannfólkið Breytist í Slím (“the people turn to slime”), a music festival centring Akureyri’s small yet mighty local scene. Happening again July 25 to 27, the festival will seep through Iceland’s northern capital for three days of gooey fun.

“Akureyri has a lot to offer music wise, but there are very few places where people can play and be seen,” says Jón Haukur Unnarsson, the festival’s project manager and “Minister of Slime,” who spoke to us about the upcoming seventh edition. “The aim is there to create a platform for local artists, to give them a voice and to foster community.”

From alley to factory

Loosely formed around 2010, the Mannfólkið Breytist í Slím (MBS) collective comprised friends who were sharing rehearsal and recording spaces in Akureyri at that time. The first sliming took place in 2018 as a one-day street party, made possible by a tiny grant and a lot of gumption.

“It started really small, because we just took the equipment that we had in the rehearsal space out into an alley behind it,” says Jón Haukur, “It was a very convenient place for concerts. The next year, we got other artists not only from the collective but also people that were active in Akureyri at the time.”

“It’s a weird goal, but if you always want to get bigger, I don’t think it’s really sustainable.”

After ramping up to a two-day event in 2020 and having moved from the streets into an empty industrial factory turned concert space, MBS really hit their stride in 2021 with the addition of artistic director Aldís Dagmar Erlingsdóttir Svarkur, whom Jón Haukur says brought the festival to another level aesthetically. That year also saw the festival bringing in more artists from outside of Akureyri, while retaining its two-thirds-local policy that still holds.

Better, not bigger

Though this year will be MBS’ seventh edition, it is also a year of many firsts — it will be their first three-day edition, the first time it’s held in the same factory space as the previous year and their first time with a licence to sell alcohol. However, better doesn’t mean bigger.

“We set out with a very clear goal of not growing, we just want to make it a little bit better than we did last time, because we don’t have the time or resources to make it bigger,” says Jón Haukur. “It’s a weird goal, but if you always want to get bigger, I don’t think it’s really sustainable. The idea from the beginning was not growing fast but consistently throughout the years and learning as we go.”

“We’ve gotten really good at converting people to slime.”

In terms of the musical acts, Jón Haukur says they have three benchmarks against which they measure the quality of their programme: versatility of artists, local representation and gender diversity. These core principles are exemplified on the eclectic lineup, including locals Brenndu Bananarnir, Miomantis, Sót, Ari Orrason and Leður, to name a few. Reykjavík city-slickers on the bill include Spacestation, ex.girls and Geigen.

“This year we have a lot of MBS OGs,” says Jón Haukur. “We have Þorsteinn Kári, who is also an MBS founding member and he played the first edition with two acts. We have Aska coming back from exile of sorts, as well as Pitenz. There is also Deer God, who has not played the festival before but has been very active in Akureyri.”

The slime is soft

While I’ll never know the glory of getting slimed on ’90s cable TV, I suspect getting turned into slime at Mannfólkið Breytist í Slím is far more satisfying.

“We’ve gotten really good at converting people into slime,” says Jón Haukur. “If you need a reason to leave the southwest corner of Iceland and you’re free this weekend, come north and get slimy. It’s warm and cozy in the slime. And soft.”

Find out more at mbsskifur.is.

Support The Reykjavík Grapevine!
Buy subscriptions, t-shirts and more from our shop right here!

Show Me More!