Trúnó On The Dancefloor: Inside Benni Hemm Hemm And Páll Óskar’s New Album

Benni Hemm Hemm and Páll Óskar join forces for a politically charged, sugary pop album

In a rare twist of fate, famed Icelandic musicians Páll Óskar Hjálmtýsson and Benedikt Hermann Hermannsson marry their talents for their latest creation Alveg, out September 26. Positively optimistic, Alveg addresses contemporary social issues with gleeful, sweet bubblegum pop.

In 2017, Páll Óskar Hjálmtýsson — Palli — King of Icelandic pop, decided he was done writing music. That is, until he’d have something meaningful to say. The prominent pop star had risen to prominence in the 1990s, introducing Iceland to the public health wonders of shaking your body to sweaty club music.

He retreated into his disco ball, tending to personal matters. Of course, Palli couldn’t resist the tug of music and continued working as a performer, even featuring as a guest on tracks by up-and-coming artists.

Serendipitously, Benedikt Hermann Hermannsson — Benni Hemmi Hemm — experienced the exact same feeling at the exact same time as Palli. In 2017, he packed his music equipment and ventured to Seyðisfjörður. He wasn’t going to make music anymore, he thought, and felt as if he was signing off from the larger music community. Seemingly unconsciously, Benni returned to Reykjavík with an overflowing hard drive of music, ranging from esoteric, 30-minute sound sculptures to 90-second pop songs. But he had no plans for it.

In what long-standing RÚV DJ Ólafur Páll Gunnarsson — Óli Palli — calls, “the best and most important album of the year,” the disparate duo click. Resulting in a politically charged, lush pop album, Benni and Palli combine their hearts and conscience — to paraphrase Óli Palli.

A match made for TV

Despite their separate orbits of prominence, Benni and Palli met each other for the first time in 2024. As a spot in the music-oriented TV programme Hljómskálinn, Palli and Benni were approached by multi-tasker Guðmundur “Kiddi Hjálmur” Jónsson. He wanted them to write a song together which would air on the show. It’s a story the pair have repeatedly shared during an Icelandic media blitz, and they never seem to be bored of it.

“I wrote a base song on my keyboard with a Latin beat and sent it to Palli,” Benni shares, describing that Palli was quick to supply Benni’s music with lyrics. “Then Palli asked me whether I had any more demos, and that’s a bit of a dream question,” Benni smiles. “I have so much stuff which I have no idea what to do with.”

We started making an album without realising it.

One by one, the tracks kept coming. “Suddenly, we were asking ourselves whether we were making a record. So we started making an album without realising it,” Benni continues. “That’s my favourite type of a creative process — being led forward into something you should be doing, instead of trying to steer it too much,” he says enthusiastically.

The two aren’t an obvious pair: Páll Óskar is undoubtedly one of Iceland’s biggest artists. Making his way through a Rocky Horror Picture Show rendition and the Eurovision Song Contest in the 90s, Palli has been a vocal advocate for queer rights and the LGBTQ+ community in Iceland.

Conversely, Benni Hemm Hemm’s roots lie in the bustling 00s indie scene, working with contemporaries Hildur Guðnadóttir, Svavar Pétur Elliðason — aka Prins Póló — in the indie band Rúnk, working in numerous projects along the way.

“Go for Benni.”

Benni compares the Hljómskálinn gig to a car ignition. “When that was established, nothing seemed more normal than working together. It was just what needed to match us together,” Benni shares.

“Kiddi Hjálmur obviously knew something that we didn’t know,” Palli chimes in. “I’ve worked with a lot of people. Nothing I’ve done in life has been a solo project, it’s always been collaborative. A long time ago, I learnt that collaboration relies on the quality of communication,” Palli states.

“With us, it was never a problem to make some coffee and start talking. And usually, we started each session by giving each other a report of what happened the day before. Suddenly we had been chatting for an hour and a half,” Palli chronicles.

As the pair describe it, these pre-session chats were more often than not an intense heart-to-heart conversation, allowing the two strangers to slowly build up mutual trust, discuss the news, or simply share each others’ music tastes.

Can I seriously be making an album with Páll Óskar in my garage?

“You make the world’s best coffee,” Palli compliments Benni. “We always had a lot of things to discuss. And in every conversation, there came a sentence where I went, ‘Hey, this is a good line in a pop song!’ Then, the demos stopped being demos. This project just wanted to be born,” he says.

“From day one, I felt like… mmm,” Palli continues theatrically, “I fitted pretty well into Benni’s demos. It surprised me. And the whole time there was enough space for both of us. That’s why the title is Alveg (Totally),” Palli says cheerfully. “The album is totally Páll Óskar and totally Benni Hemm Hemm. You can hear both of us clearly, but there’s enough room for us both. Kiddi Hjálmur probably knew this. It’s his gift,” Palli says.

A match made in contrasts

While the two look like old buddies now, neither of them had formally met each other before starting their work. “Palli is 10 years my senior, so I’m just a fan,” Benni admits. This inherent dynamic between them led Benni to overcomplicate the fine print.

“When we started, I had no idea how you were used to working. I was asking myself, ‘Can I seriously be making an album with Páll Óskar in my garage? Is that something he’ll settle for?’” Benni exclaims. “Most of my albums have been recorded in garages,” Palli quips.

“The only thing I needed to fine tune was where this project was situated: Not giving in to preconceived notions about what I am or what Palli is. Not thinking, ‘Am I going into his world, or is he taking up space in mine?’ Stuff that gets in your way,” Benni addresses.

“I’m pretty happy that it happened now,” he continues, explaining that time has imbued him with greater maturity. “As I become older, I stop caring about a lot of things. I think that I would be more obsessed with the idea of working with my idol if we’d met earlier. Although I’m still a fan, I’m more self-confident,” Benni clarifies.

“It was healthy for me to start working with you,” Palli answers. “If I can be frank, I felt like I had already written all the songs I wanted to. I released a few singles from 2017 to now, which were fine. But I noticed when I started working with Benni that I had become a bit rusty,” Palli admits. “It took me a while to get going. Benni was so incredibly patient with me. Oftentimes, I was handing him miniscule changes to lyrics. In one instance, I changed the same lyrics 12 times!” he explains.

“Benni, we have an album to make!”

In addition to their separate backgrounds, integrating their work processes was also a question perilling their pairing. Páll Óskar is a meticulous musician and has an industry-wide reputation for professionalism. He never compromises on an idea he knows can be executed better. But his stiffness led to the process dragging on longer than he anticipated. “Benni was just incredibly patient towards my process,” Palli says.

“We’re very much opposites,” Benni replies. “I’m constantly starting something new, and I find it very boring to polish stuff and finish things. And Palli is on the other end.”

“I love poring over the details,” Palli adds.

We are in an extremely bad place which I thought I’d never live to see. Not in my lifetime. I’ve never witnessed ordinary people celebrating the killing of other people.

“There’s a chance these archetypes would not make sense,” Benni ruminates. “I needed to learn this patience, being bothered to repeat stuff. When I’m on my own, I record a vocal track, and if a truck rolls by and ruins it, I can’t be arsed to do it again,” he exasperates. “But everything needs to be as it should be in Palli’s case. If things aren’t OK, it can’t slide, which is something I need to learn,” Benni admits.

“I love to dwell on the smallest details, and I have the patience for it. I’m just made that way. I can’t do it any other way,” Palli expands. “I can’t do it absent-mindedly,” he continues.

Looking back to his decision in 2017 to stop making music, Palli found his heart-to-heart conversations with Benni inspiring. “I had promised myself not to go back to the studio until I had something to say. And then Benni and I started talking. The times are very different compared to 2017. We’re dealing with a lot of challenges which we’ve talked about in this garage,” Palli says, referring to the wider socio-political status of the world.

“These conversations became the inspiration for some of the lyrics,” Palli explains. “There are lyrics on the album which I think — my goodness — are some of my best work,” Palli confesses, citing the Carrie-inspired, standout track “Eitt af blómunum”.

The personal and political

In essence, Alveg straddles the interesting line between sweet, confessional pop songs and fervent displays of love and social justice. Due to its subject matter, Alveg runs the risk of being preachy — too on-the-nose.

But through nuanced and diligent approaches, it escapes the air of disingenuity or being overly moralising. In “Eitt af blómunum” Palli and Benni draw an analogy between the spectators of school bullying and the wider inaction towards injustice present at the international level.  Despite the difficult subject matter, in true Páll Óskar fashion, the lyrics leave a heartfelt, positive message.

Similarly, “Alveg satt” is both a proclamation of Palli’s love for his husband, while being subversive towards a hostile legal framework which disparages foreigners. Written against the backdrop of his partner being denied refugee status, Palli sings, “Rules and regulations sketched on a paper, our love is stronger than that.”

As if we’ve started a heart-to-heart conversation on our own, Palli turns solemn and starts sharing his story.

“The thing is, my husband Antonio came to Iceland as a refugee from Venezuela. During the time we were working on the album, his application for asylum, plus his residence permit, was rejected by the Directorate of Immigration,” Palli explains. “This rejection was issued even though we were married. It was like being gut-punched. And the fear that took over us, the emotional stress which followed this rejection is something I have never known before,” he speaks plainly.

“This affected everything. Our sleep and consequently our mental health. These lyrics came from that situation,” Palli begins to recite the lyrics, tearing up in the process. “It’s no joke being in this spot,” he admits. “In the end, our lawyer advised us to participate in the so-called lottery and apply for his citizenship in Iceland. That literally saved his life, because not only was Antonio granted citizenship, but also two other gay Venezuelan men who also happened to be married to Icelandic men. The Alþingi committee couldn’t discriminate between these three couples who were in the exact same position. Today, Antonio is like a typical Icelander working two jobs and pumping his hard-earned tax money into Icelandic society,” Palli explains.

“This is a love song, but the chorus is a sort of ‘fuck the system’ anthem. Which is a funny mix,” Benni adds.

Palli changes moods from sombre to upbeat. “And this is a story that I couldn’t tell in 2017. A lot of things have happened in my life and I have a lot to say, so I’m in a prime position to sit down in Benni’s garage and write lyrics and songs,” he says with a smile.

A default advocate for human rights

An important element pouring into Alveg’s main channel is Palli and Benni’s ongoing social activism. For decades, Palli has been a prominent advocate for LGBTQ+ rights in Iceland, making a fabulous display of support on his annual Reykjavík Pride float. In recent years, Palli has also actively supported the cause of Palestine through demonstrations and sharing the message of freedom and peace.

Páll Óskar’s shoo-in float at the 2018 Reykjavík Pride. Photo by Art Bicnick

“In his default setting, Palli is fighting for human rights,” Benni says of his creative partner. “I think the main thing in these songs is finding what’s the most pressing matter to talk about now. From my perspective, I think you’ve found the focus in trans issues,” he says to Palli. “That needs advocating for now. And also this bully atmosphere which derives from this on-creep of fascism,” he opines.

One of Alveg’s shows of brilliance is the way it uses the personal scope to shed light on the general. Repeatedly, Palli aims his scope towards universal experiences, gradually widening until you realise the songs are about something way bigger.

If you try to defend infanticide you are thereby participating in the decline of humanity.

“I think it’s a nice way to present this,” Benni agrees. “Everyone has a personal experience of bullying. The stronger harassing the weaker. You might not understand it in a larger context, but you do understand it on a personal level,” he argues.

Taking global geo-political tension and bringing it onto the playground might be bold and overly sentimental. But Alveg’sthought experiment emphasises what every human being knows is true, however deep inside: love, peace, and dignity for human life are the most important values in life.

“The bully and fascist atmosphere we’re seeing all over the world. When the bigger is tormenting the smaller ones in an organised way,” Palli explains, exasperated.

“What I think is worst is to see the hangers-on in the comment sections where it looks like they enjoy it. And they encourage the bully,” he exclaims. “When there’s underlying support for this behaviour, you need to look into your own core and ask yourself, ‘Who am I? What kind of person am I? When do I feel like I’m in my own element?’”

“In these times, none of us can afford not to be in our own element. We need to be clear in our own element. Use our voices and speak the fuck up,” he emphasises.

For a short moment, Benni plays the devil’s advocate.

“But on this personal level, you do understand why people are rallying for the bully types,” he ponders.

“Why do people do that?” Palli replies.

“If you imagine being at school, and you see someone harassing somebody inferior to them, and you’re afraid of the bully, I think that must be the reason why you wouldn’t risk crossing the line,” Benni argues, again parallelling schoolyard conflict to international politics.

Palli shares his thoughts. “I can feel a lot of fear in the air. It’s most certainly fear — but first and foremost, I think what people fear most is change. There are people out there who are afraid of changes in general,” he posits. “It’s no joke to be afraid of changes because the only thing you can be a 1,000 percent certain of in life is exactly that: changes,” Palli stresses, giving ground to the idea behind the album track “Breytingar”.

“Those who aren’t ready to participate with changes, they’ll be constantly disappointed with life because everything changes constantly. During this interview, even our hair will have grown by at least one millimetre before it’s over.”

The age of entitlement

On the topic of aggression, the conversation turns to the ongoing genocide in Palestine at the hands of Israeli authorities. “There are a lot of cheap tricks used in politics and social media to gaslight and manipulate the scared ones who dislike change,” Palli continues, now passionately verbose.

“Now we’re seeing these cheap tricks being used all around us. I think we’re living in the age of entitlement. Entitled people are popping up all around the world, inspiring each other to go by the same playbook. Spreading lies or half-truths by cherry picking facts. They’re presenting the imitation of truth to keep bullies in fashion,” Palli says.

From these thoughts, the duo explain, came the album’s political tones, saturated in the concerns of a growing number of bullies in the world and a lack of support for their victims.

I miss hearing artists speak up.

“We’re in the studio while all the videos from Gaza are pouring over us the whole time. It is totally fucked up to be on your phone, and just by scrolling with your finger, you see a funny music video. Then you see a child blown to pieces. Then a perfume ad. Then some random Instagram chick showing her tits and ass by the swimming pool. And then a child blown to pieces,” Palli illustrates.

“And the most terrifying thing is seeing how people are ready to defend killing children. I have no patience for that,” Palli is on the verge of raising his voice. “If people try to defend murdering children…” he’s unable to finish his sentence, distraught by the idea.

“If you even make the slightest attempt in defending killing minors, you lose me,” he ends firmly. “If you try to defend infanticide you are thereby participating in the decline of humanity. That a parent has to bury their child is a real violation of natural law. These people are willing to turn a blind eye to dead children due to the business interests of someone. Yes, we’re experiencing the decline of humanity on live TV and on our phones,” he says.

“I think it’s crazy to be in the studio creating art and not spending one word on mentioning it,” Palli scales back. “I’ve written bubblegum pop, you know. But then I was also in a very different place in my life. Then I was simply chewing bubblegum,” he smiles.

“We are in an extremely bad place which I thought I’d never live to see. Not in my lifetime. I’ve never witnessed ordinary people celebrating the killing of other people. Whether it’s Palestinian children or Charlie Kirk. People are cheering and clapping for other people’s deaths. But it’s happening now,” Palli says sternly.

The artist’s way

Despite these heavy ideas and conversations surrounding the making of the album, Palli and Benni have simple hopes as to what the album will leave behind. “A honey sugar on top of the icing, and that you’ll feel good,” Palli describes happily.

For Benni, the album presents a more existential turn for him. Benni never wants to brand himself as a purveyor of any specific genre. Rather, he lets his muses guide him towards the next project, whether it be 24 hours of sound broadcast via a world radio, or something equally left-field. He reminisces back to the time in Seyðisfjörður and his inadvertent compilation of music.

“I didn’t understand what I had because I had recorded, you know, 30 minutes of improvised music, and 90-second pop songs and everything in between,” Benni describes. “I was like, ‘What’s going on?’ Along the way I realised that I can’t brand myself. I can’t be a pop musician or an experimental artist or something,” he says.

“And if I did, it would be too boring and too much work. It’s much more fun to just do it, and I realise it perfectly that it’s very confusing for people. People don’t really understand what I’m doing. And that was a challenge because therefore they can’t reach a perfect connection.”

It’s clear that the two artists have a lot in common, and a lot to say. Ultimately, Palli and Benni’s rhetoric goes to show how unprecedented these times are — not just in terms of music, but world affairs.

The pair is critical of the contemporary streaming environment, equating the effects of Spotify’s artist end as the, “same rush of endorphins you get from social media.” They’re also wary of the way music is increasingly being seen as content, as opposed to art in its own right. “The two of us, we managed to make music instead of content,” Palli says. “We always asked the songs: ‘Hi. Here you are. You’re in this world. What are you about? What do you want to become?’ Neither of us was thinking about how this would perform on Spotify or as an Instagram post,” he reasons.

However, despite implications of heavy-handedness, Alveg is an important milestone in the two artists’ roster, bridging social commentary and activism with lush, catchy pop tunes which turn into earworms on the first listen.

“We’re recording this album during the age of entitlement. We’re meant to talk about it,” Palli admits. “We’re supposed to respond to it. If you’re an artist, if you have the need to create something, I must say that I’m surprised I’m not hearing from more artists actually talking about it during wartime. I miss hearing artists speak up,” Palli continues. “This album wanted to be born, and we are serving it.”

Alveg is available in vinyl format in record shops now, and on streaming platforms. Palli and Benni will celebrate the album with two nights at Austurbæjarbíó, on October 8 and 9. Up to 40 musicians will join them onstage, comprised of an eight-person band, a string quartet, and a choir, performing the album tracks in addition to select hits by the respective artists. Tickets range from 5.900-6.900 ISK, available on stubb.is/alveg.