Back to reality. This past month hasn't felt very real. It's hard to believe that in the span of 30 days
we released the Patrick Watson album, plunged into
Pop Montreal, and then took off for
Iceland Airwaves in Reykjavik, from whence I've just returned. Iceland in particular felt like something out of a dream, in part because it has been one for a long time.
I've known Patrick Watson since early years in high school together. I knew then he'd be doing something interesting at some point down the line (my yearbook note to him says something like "tuck in your shirt when you're famous"), but if you had told me about Airwaves even 3 years ago I probably would have wet myself. I reconnected with him sometime in 2002, right around the time he was working on
Just Another Ordinary Day. A show at Cafe Sarajevo which featured the full band lineup as it stands today sold me on the band's potential and I didn't really miss many shows after that. What's funny is that I associate this period with a turning point of my own in terms of a love for music and a sense of what was possible. While I was obssessed with
Radiohead like everyone else through the turn of the century,
Sigur Ros's
( ) was the first post-millenial album that really resonated with me a in big way. I've always loved music, but it really blossomed into a centerpiece in my life around then. Watson's music at that time was hugely influenced by the Icelandic sound, and I was obsessed with Iceland, having met Sigur Ros and the
Amina girls after a show of theirs in Boston on a tour. We spent a couple days with them and I resolved then and there to get to Iceland at some point. And I swear I fantasized about working with Patrick and the band and getting them to Iceland, as well.
Do you ever have dreams that resonate in some kind of visionary way and then find yourself in a situation weeks later that evoke the imagery? Whether or not this the result of us projecting our dreams onto reality (maybe with the help of a coincidence here and there), it's hard to not feel floored when it actually happens.
Iceland Airwaves was an incredible experience. Not only did we get the band there, but between their instore at
12 Tonar, their official showcase at the National Theatre Basement, and their surprise gig on the Sunday to close the fest (even bringing up some guests from
Islands), they were the toast of the event. I did
a write up on the first two days of Airwaves for Rightround from Reykjavik, which is worth reading for a musical sense of the early goings of the festival. There's also
a ton of pictures from the event on my Flickr.
Islands and
Wolf Parade were also on board for the event, which made it that much more exciting. Watson an co. have always been on the periphery on Montreal's indie scene, for better or worse, and to get to share my love of the band with two other Montreal acts I've loved for a long time was pretty special. And they both kicked ass, too, as usual.
There were signs from our first few hours in the country that things were going to get nuts. Picture this: we've just arrived after an over-night flight. The previous days was spent driving to New York and flying out, and little sleep was had on the plane. We're cracked out enough as it is, and the place feels like a different planet. So we wander into the dining room for our free breakfast, and
Harrison Ford is sitting next to us. Han Solo on a stop-over to ice planet Hoth? Crazy. Apparently he flies his plane in once and while. Wouldn't you?
On no sleep we rented a car and drove out into the country side, taking advantage of one of our only opportunities to see the supposedly desolate and treeless landscape. I don't think I've ever been more astounded by a place's geography. There's a stillness to Iceland that impossible to ignore, and it's an inspiring one. But there's also these amazingly violent elements to it, the tectonic plates and the giant waterfall in particular. Calling it majestic doesn't really do it justice.
Somehow a lot of this impression translated to the music. I've seen Patrick Watson play a hundred times, and while I'm never bored at one of their shows, they really turned a corner on this trip. I really don't think there's a band in Canada right now that rivals them in a live setting, in terms of a sense of play and improvisation built around solid songs and tight execution. Sure there are amazing bands that will come out and floor you if you've never seen them before. But if you have to pick any band to see three nights running, I'd pick this one in a heartbeat.
There were only two sets of music I saw at Airwaves that rivaled Watson and co. The first was an afternoon gig on Saturday at a church, where
Johann Johannsson performed material from his new album
IBM 1401, A User's Manual (get it), complete with string quartet. It was an off festival event, and a little out of the way (as much as anything in Reykjavik could possibly be out of the way; 'it's around the corner' became a punchline pretty quickly on this trip), but as soon as I wandered in it was apparent I was in the right place. I starting recognizing a lot of faces after this show; the festival's real music lovers tended to end up in the same place night after night. The show was all the more impressive considered Johannsson had led-up the blistering
Apparat Organ Quartet set the night previous, and would go on to play a role in the experimental noise of
Evil Madness later that night at the
Kitchen Motors showcase.
But if it wasn't this godfather of the Icelandic music scene that rivaled Watson's performance at Airwaves, it was a group a teenaged Icelandic kids (really, they were all between 16 and 19) that seemed ready to take on the whole fucking planet.
Ultra Mega Technobandið Stefán might be the best party band in the world right now. I don't think anyone else could followed up the last set that Watson played on Sunday night. They brought up Islands'
Patrick Gregoire and
Patrice Agbokou for their
Erik Satie cover, and new Islands drummer
Aaron Harris on a blistering version of "Luscious Life", and quite literally brought the house down.
It was apparently this venue's last night in existence, and the venue manager proceeded to inform everyone that was the best show he had ever seen there. We were consequently all invited to help finish off the booze in the bar, but not before Ultra Mega ... ripped the place apart with their heart-pumping Sex Pistolized electro. Rumour has it that their drummer is the brains behind the music (which in a year or two could be carrying the Daft Punk torch), but it's their front man that puts them over the top. A 16 year old Icelandic Iggy Pop. Watch out for these guys. They had Patrick Watson tecnho-moshing.
Now I never could have dreamt I see
that.
PLANTS and ANIMALS
