For anyone with an interest in the Icelandic pop scene, Paul Sullivan’s one-of-a-kind work Waking Up in Iceland is a must-read. Written in the spirit of a true vagabond on a mission, this travelogue-chronicle offers an insightful look into modern Iceland, its people, culture and ancient musical heritage.
Sent to attend the Iceland Airwaves Music Festival and document the history, roots and current state of affairs in the country’s thriving music arena, Sullivan, a British national and travel and entertainment journalist by profession, finds himself in Reykjavík 101 awed by shadows of Iceland’s mystic past and the humbling grandeur of its artistically inclined present. His bid to discover the true nature of the Icelandic art form and its underlying myriad inspirations leads him to travel to the remotest corners of this volcanic island, interacting with a wide range of Icelanders in the process. Yet, whether hiking glacial plains around Akureyri or driving icy roads to Ísafjörður in the Westfjords, the author’s deep fascination with everything Icelandic remains always self-evident and appears to only deepen throughout the book.
Waking Up in IcelandWhile a bit dated by rapidly changing music industry standards, Paul Sullivan’s excellent book Waking Up In Iceland, published in 2003, reads much more like a personal travel memoir rather than a collection of facts about the Icelandic music scene an uninformed prospective reader might mistakenly assume it to be. In addition to providing a thorough overview of Icelandic pop, rock and punk, Sullivan takes plenty of pages to share his music-related interviews and firsthand experiences with native Icelanders. The work is remarkable in that it covers not only the pop culture of modern Iceland, but also its origins and many more obscure yet deeply fascinating aspects of Icelandic life such as the structure of rímur and the widespread superstitious belief in Hidden People, spirits that supposedly inhabit rocks and other inanimate objects. Equal parts cultural primer, music review, and Viking travelogue, this should be regarded as mandatory reading for those seeking an Icelandic adventure.
As if to supplement and provide context for the first person interviews with some of the biggest names in Icelandic entertainment circa 2003, the work offers a uniquely comprehensive introduction to Iceland with chapters devoted to local folklore, traditional superstitions, and even the neopagan religion Asatru. Remarkably, Sullivan seemingly manages to interview everyone from film director Baltasar Kormákur to an Icelandic Phallological Museum curator, stopping short only of securing some face time with the high profile international pop sensation Björk. The book also provides useful barhopping tips as a result of its author exploring Reykjavík’s party scene along the Laugavegur during breaks in his busy schedule.
Sullivan’s writing is fluid, almost conversational in style, and yet his discourse does occasionally involve the use of uniquely specialized culture and industry specific vocabulary, helping create a generally sophisticated impression and often requiring the reader’s undivided attention to comprehend completely. Consequently, the work has an informative, even slightly educational air, not unlike that commonly found in the likes of guidebooks and trip planners. However, Sullivan’s fast-paced narrative somewhat minimalist in descriptions ensures a certain freshness in readability and the absence of dull moments.
Heima (2007)The Iceland tour film from Sigur Rós, Heima translates simply as “at home” and – true to its title – features the band’s live domestic performances in Reykjavík and smaller Icelandic towns. Part raw Airwaves footage, part music video compilation, and part engaging Q&A session with Jónsi, Kjarri and the other band members, this offering features incredible scenery and an outstanding, beautifully mixed sound score, both of which will leave you breathless and gasping for more. Sigur Rós provide invaluable commentary on their motivations, cultural influences and rise to international fame. However, the music itself is equally remarkable, and when combined with artistically shot scenes of glacial lagoons and black sand beaches leaves an indelible impression. Whether or not you are a fan of this particular band, watching Heima will no doubt prove to be a deeply inspirational experience, almost religious in its magnitude, and make you want to visit Iceland to appreciate its both its natural and manmade wonders with your own eyes.
Screaming Masterpiece (2005)A cinematic overview of Reykjavík’s top musical talents, Ari Alexander Ergis Magnússon’s Screaming Masterpiece features a cascade of interviews with such prominent and influential individuals as Björk, Barði Jóhannsson, Hilmar Örn Hilmarsson and even the Faroese artist Eivør Pálsdóttir. Interwoven with live concert footage of Apparat Organ Quartet, Slowblow, Trabant, Múm, The Sugarcubes and other Icelandic bands performing for both local and global audiences are bits of commentary on the ancient origins of the country’s musical tradition. While the film succeeds in offering an all-inclusive look into various genre segments of the modern Icelandic music scene, its presentation lacks polish and the interviews with artists appear rather superficial. For those with a serious interest in the subject, Screaming Masterpiece may represent a good starting point, but it is by no means an exhaustive resource – for a more complete treatment, refer to Paul Sullivan’s Waking Up In Iceland.
Staying true in spirit to Nobel Prize winner Halldór Laxness’ novels Independent People and Under the Glacier, Waking Up In Iceland thoroughly explores the origins of Icelandic music from ancient Viking poetry and nursery rhymes to the modern industry’s independent local labels and more globalized mainstream artists. Conveniently, Paul Sullivan also presents his readers with cultural glimpses into Icelandic life, so richly formulated as if to prepare them for an in-person visit – which you no doubt will be much closer to actually making by the time you have read the last page.
