Scraping Tradition: Skrapt Festival Celebrates Underground

My plane makes a swift turn and the clouds part, offering a first glimpse of the unknown land. A rough ocean stretches below, with islands scattered across its surface — tiny, rugged, dramatic peaks covered in emerald green despite the date on the calendar. I’m filming the view when suddenly the plane plunges into an air pocket, causing a passenger a few rows ahead to scream. I put my phone down and grip my armrest. The aircraft shudders violently as fierce gusts of wind rock its wings, making this powerful machine feel frighteningly fragile. I catch my breath and remind myself that everything will be fine. Two seconds later, the wheels touch down on the runway of Vágar island.

“Welcome to the Faroe Islands,” a stranger says to my companion and I as we slowly stand up, still recovering from the bumpy landing. “I can assure you this was the worst part of your trip. It’s all uphill from here.” We exchange some small talk and ask the stranger, who turns out to be a local, if there’s anything he’d recommend we do or see during our first visit to the Faroes. “Well…” he pauses, trying to think of something unique, “you’ll find most things in the tourist guides. But there’s an autumn festival happening this weekend — with a sheep-slaughtering competition, if you’re interested.”

One couldn’t think of a more stereotypical welcome to this pocket-sized country coated in tradition and yet I’m here for a different festival — Skrapt.

Skrapt Festival is a brainchild of Sunneva Háberg Eysturstein and Jóel Briem, co-founders of the legendary institution Sirkus in Tórshavn, and musician Pan Thorarensen, the co-founder and artistic director of the Extreme Chill festival.

Sunneva, who hails from the Faroese countryside, moved to Iceland when she was 19 to “party and get away from here.” In Reykjavík, she worked at the late iconic bar Sirkus before starting Sirkus Föroyar in 2009 with Jóel. His mother, Sigríður Guðlaugsdóttir – better known as Sigga Boston – had established the original Sirkus on Klapparstígur in 2000.

For a while Sirkus was the only music venue in town, if you don’t count the Nordic House and the National Theatre. “Everybody played here,” says Sunneva. “For the first five years, we had four or five concerts a week, which became overwhelming in the long run.”

Slowly, a bunch of other venues emerged in Tórshavn, but there was a need for a festival. “Ever since I lived in Iceland and visited Iceland Airwaves back in 2006, I always wanted to bring that to the Faroes — a festival that shows all the cool stuff that’s not on the commercial scene,” Sunneva says. “Most of the things you see in the Faroes are bookings from Denmark, or beer from Denmark, or everything from Denmark, whereas for me, it’s much more natural to bring stuff from Iceland, because that’s what I relate to much more.”

Of course, there is the famous G! Festival, but that’s in Gøta, a 50-minute ride from the capital — and according to Sunneva not everyone is up for such a trip. “I love G! Festival, but it’s kinda far away when you live in Tórshavn. In Tórshavn, we only have commercial parties where it’s all about singalongs and clapping out of rhythm.”

“Most of the things you see in the Faroes are bookings from Denmark, or beer from Denmark, or everything from Denmark, whereas for me, it’s much more natural to bring stuff from Iceland.”

Pan, who not only co-organises Skrapt but is also performing this year — alongside his spacious ambient band Stereo Hypnosis and dreamlike techno-utopian project Apex Anima — adds that Skrapt aims to be a showcase festival. “We’re still figuring things out,” he says. “Next year, we will hopefully invite some other countries to collaborate with us. My festival, Extreme Chill, is in a big collaboration with the festivals all over the Nordics, so the idea is to have Skrapt in this loop so we could send artists on exchange programmes.”

Poetic start, electronic finish

Skrapt embraces progressive sounds and experimental art in any form — kicking off with a mellow poetry reading. Despite having read earlier that the Faroese tend to go out quite late, I decide to show up at the venue right at 19:00 and find it packed. The crowd — a mix of young and old — are either seated behind round tables, or lining up for a pint of Föroya Bjór’s Slupp, one of the popular choices this weekend.

The recitals are mostly in Faroese and I’m trying hard to focus on the words that sound similar to Icelandic, or the experimental videos in the background. “Hound. No one talks about the difference between bravery and courage,” finally there’s a line that I understand and it stays with me as my eye catches a man, armoured with a headlamp, notepad and a pencil, sketching every artist coming on stage.

The calm and mild atmosphere slightly intensifies, as Stereo Hypnosis takes to the stage. “Stereo Hypnosis! That was amazing. We don’t have ambient [music] here like this at all,” exclaims Rúna Vang Kjærbo, who decided to join the festival at the very last moment.

This is a very special concert for at least two of the three members of Stereo Hypnosis, the father-son duo of Pan and Óskar Thorarensen. “The craziest thing about bringing Stereo Hypnosis to the Faroe Islands is the fact that my father used to live here in the 70s. He met my mother here in 1975,” Pan tells me later. “This is his first time here since then. It was always on his bucket list to go to the Faroe Islands and play a small concert here. We have been touring all the fucking world, and working with huge artists, but this was so much fun to come here and play this concert with my father — a really special moment for us.”

Unlike the first edition of Skrapt, which took place in mid-July and centred around one big stage, this edition is spread across three stages. One of them is in a space ironically called Perlan — though it bears no resemblance with the Icelandic “pearl.” Here, versatile singer and producer Nönne delivers a truly electronic feast accompanied by visuals he created himself. The crowd is thirsty for this kind of music and we all dance fervently in the packed-to-brim venue as if this was our last party ever. “Nönne’s been my most positive surprise. He’s just flirting with a lot of genres,” says Sunneva.

Marius DC steals the show (again)

Night two of the festival begins on a high note with a 19-year old Tóra Trond. She starts alone on the piano, then is joined by the band that seems like they’ve just stepped out of high school, despite Sunneva assuring me they are older than they look. Tóra delivers an emotional, lyrical set that belies her young age. I can’t find her on Spotify yet but I overhear that she’s been quickly making strides in the Faroese music industry with her first single “Stadig Væk” even nominated for song of the year at the Faroese Music Awards in 2022.

“All it takes is five or 10 good people in a country this small to keep culture and music alive.”

Before coming to Skrapt, my knowledge of the Faroese music scene was limited to a handful of acts Faroe Music Export has been dispatching to Iceland Airwaves. One artist who left a lasting impression two years ago was Marius DC, whose show at Iðnó lived up to the legend. I didn’t spot Marius on Skrapt’s lineup, so imagine my surprise when he joined Ókendir on stage. This collective of rappers, singers, producers and musicians has been around for four years, with Marius only joining last year.

The eight-piece group on stage is wonderfully diverse: there’s even a saxophone player, which let’s agree isn’t exactly a tradition for rap. DJ Nönne from last night, showcases an entirely different side, swapping DJ controller for a mic. The energy from Ókendir is absolutely electric, and I find myself chanting along in Faroese without knowing the lyrics or the language, pausing only to catch my breath during sax solos. ​​

“We’ve been in the underground for a while, but now we’re coming to the surface,” Marius DC tells me after the gig. “I like to think that great artists do several projects, and I try to be a great artist,” he laughs, adding that almost everyone in the group does something else on the side. Since I last saw him, Marius has graduated with a production degree from a pre-conservatory programme and is planning to swap Tórshavn for Copenhagen next year for further studies.

“Last night, we had electronic DJ sets all night. That’s not a thing that you get the opportunity to see a lot in the Faroes,” he compliments the energy and vibe of the festival, adding with the wisdom of a 20-year old, “But all it takes is five or 10 good people in a country this small to keep culture and music alive.”

Intro to shitpunk

Next up is Killer Distiller, who Skrapt organisers describe as “a hardcore two-piece pseudo-heavy metal punk band,” known mostly for their singles “Dazed” and “Confused”. They deliver an absolute banger of a set, despite wearing too much denim. The duo is a side project of members of Joe & The Shitboys — the definitive highlight of the night.

At first glance, a band that calls themselves “queer vegan shitpunks” are difficult to be taken seriously. Their songs, however — despite rarely lasting even a minute — underscore issues like homophobia and misogyny that the conservative Faroe Islands are still known for.

“We met up for the first time in early 2018 when we were all in different bands,” says Fríði Djurhuus, or Joe Shit, the band’s frontman. “Ziggy, the guitarist, and I had been talking a few times when we were drunk that we should make some lo-fi punk stuff together. One day, he just messaged me on Facebook, and said ‘I want to record a bullshit punk single. It’s gonna be called Joe & The Shitboys, you’re gonna be Joe and we’re gonna play shit punk.’”

Friði accepted that random proposal and they went on to write, rehearse and record their first two songs in two hours. “Everybody was responding so much better to this stuff than the stuff we were doing before, which was a bit more pretentious — I mean, I was in an avant garde extreme metal band,” laughs Fríði.

Now, Iggy Pop-approved and touring around the world, Joe & The Shitboys might as well be the most successful band outta Faroe Islands.

Aquatic ambience

Skrapt’s final night is a long-needed retreat from all the dancing, yet the party continues. Festival visitors relocate from Tórshavn’s downtown to the Gundadal swimming pool, where Pan Thorarensen plays an ambient DJ set, while the crowd disperses between three different pools and a cold tub for the bravehearted. With colourful lasers, a smoke machine, cold beer on sale, shadows reflecting in the water and music that takes your mind away, it’s hard to think of a better location for a wrap-up party of a festival that passed by like a whirlwind.

The pool is a bit too cold to my liking — the Faroese, unlike their neighbours, don’t have any geothermal water — but I stay in, mingling with people. It is here that we discuss the local culture of going out, the pressing challenges of fish farming to individual fishers, the local record label Tutl that apparently doesn’t say no to Faroese or Faroe-based artists, owing substantially to the overall high quality of local music. Despite coming across as very friendly at the first sight, the locals soften even more in the embrace of their beautiful, albeit lukewarm, swimming pool.

Luckily, when I start shivering, the changing room sauna is hot and ready. I stay in for a little too long before hitting the road for one final round at Sirkus, followed by a festival’s special treat: of course, fish soup (though to be fair, there was a veggie treat too).

Skál to Skrapt

“We’re making an underground festival for a country of 55,000 people, so you can imagine, if we have 50 people at the concert, it’s like 1000 or 2000 people in Berlin,” says Pan as we speak after a few beers later at Sirkus. “To go to the Faroe Islands for a festival? It’s insane!”

On the first sight, Sirkus seems like just another cosy timber-clad bar. But somewhere behind the memorabilia on its walls lies a foundation of Faroese underground music history or at least, a place that gave it a powerful push. Now, with Skrapt, this teeny-tiny country has a chance to show the world that the Faroe Islands offer much more than sheep and dubious whaling traditions.

Somewhere between farewell hugs and final pints, I finally ask Sunneva what Skrapt means.

“I’ve been wanting to do something that’s shameless,” she says. “I come from a very religious background, and I know that people think that I have no shame because of everything I do.”

“We don’t have the word shameless in Faroese, but what ‘skrapt’ means is that you’re proud and tough,” Sunneva adds. “Nobody fucks with you.”

Trip provided by Skrapt via Visit Faroe Islands

Skrapt took place from October 18-20. Visit the festival’s website to stay updated on the next edition: skrapt.fo. You can also listen to their Spotify playlist titled Skrapt 2024 to keep up with the Faroese music scene.