On paper Iceland Airwaves couldn't have been worse timed if they tried. Iceland's biggest banks collapsed just weeks before arguably the biggest event in the country's calender, almost plunging the entire nation into insolvency. Worse, Gordon Brown even used anti-terrorism laws in a bid to save vast British assets held in Icelandic banks, much to the grievance of the country's Prime Minister and, more importantly, its people. Not a great way to kick the festival's tenth bash off, then.
However, despite the significant woes proceeding the event, Iceland Airwaves 2008 was a triumph in every possible sense. As always the local people were warm, friendly and up for some hardcore debauchery, while the event was meticulously planned offering a balanced (if slightly hit and miss) mix of Icelandic and international bands. For us music industry buffs too there was a brand-spanking new conference on the opening two days, You Are In Control, where we could stroke our collective chins and debate pressing issues affecting the current scene. Better still, due to the increased strength of the Pound against the Krona, beer was for the first time over the past ten years actually affordable.
The first live experience on Wednesday came courtesy of the gloriously wonky Borko. Fronted by the captivating Björn Kristjánsson (very much Tim Harrington's younger brother), the Reykjavik locals served up a divergent mixing pot of uplifting tunes, flitting between to prog sounds of Sigur Ros to the buoyancy of The Flaming Lips. Their rockier countrymen We Made God and Agent Fresco fare slightly worse over in NASA; the former are energetic but lack any originality while for all Agent Fresco's glimmers of promise, frontman Arnór Dan Arnarson's piercing screeching prove too much at times. Think Penny ex-Automatic times ten – yep, very painful. It's up to arguably the biggest draw of the weekend, Biffy Clyro, to close the opening night off seismically. Performing trademark topless, and despite being sparse on banter, the tattooed trio deliver a powerhouse of a set which cements their status as one of the best live bands on the circuit. Mountainous. Wednesday in photos
After spending much of the day exploring the wonderful nooks, crannies and bars of downtown Reykjavik, my good self and a selection lucky journalists are treated to an acoustic set in Boston from easily the band of the weekend – Boys In A Band. The motley fivesome from the Faroe Islands may look like they've just raided Gogol Bordello's dressing room, but their folksy musical style is truly beguiling. Better still, in frontman Pætur Zachariasson and accordionist Henri Scwartz (seriously, the boy's beard is phenomenal) they have two genuine stars.
Over in the stunning surroundings of the Reykjavik Art Museum, Bristolian electronic noiseniks Fuck Buttons are proving just why their name is so apt, gyrating and posturing over their keyboards as they deliver an initially promising set. As soon it meanders and the tunes become indistinguishable, we head over to Tunglið for a dose of that well loved musical genre - Icelandic hip-hop - courtesy of the fantastically named XXX Rottweiler. Essentially Iceland's slightly naff answer to the Beastie Boys, while the rappers' songs are undeniably weak and shoddy you can't fault their energy or exuberance. Towards the end the group angrily chant at a projection of Gordon Brown, bringing arguably the biggest cheer or the weekend. The bastard. Before we spill onto Reykjavik's rain-drenched streets to seek out an afterparty, Tunglið headliners FM Belfast live up to the hype surrounding them at the festival, delivering a foundation shaking set of squelchy beats and memorable vocal hooks.Thursday in photos
Slightly worse for wear after the second successive night of caning it, it's an early start today for a tour of Iceland's famous sights. The exploding geysers and dramatic waterfalls were undoubtedly visually stunning, but with incessant rain and piercing winds fuck me was it cold. It's a welcome relief to get stuck back into the live action with the female fronted Dýrðin. While they undoubtedly have looks and the style, the collective critically lack any decent tunes; in fact I can't work out quite why the American journalists here are getting excited about them. Abandoning Tunglið it's over to NASA for Skakkamanage who serve up some delectable, if a tad ordinary, ditties. Sigur Ros' best chums Amiina are up next over in Iðno performing alongside local electronica Kappi Kaninus. Bouncing string movements against electronic throbs, it's all dark and haunting stuff.
In need of something a bit less demanding, it's over to NASA for the comparably fluffy Retro Stefson who bring a bit of much-needed joviality to proceedings. This is quickly, however, obliterated by the ever moody-as-hell These New Puritans who really look like they don't want to be here. While they've undoubtedly got some good songs in their arsenal, their nonchalant attempts to feign coolness leave me completely disinterested. Thankfully the fan-fucking-tastic White Denim rescue proceedings emphatically. Workmanlike and efficient, they stick their heads down as they despatch a blitzkrieg of searing tunes including 'Transparency' and 'Paint Silver Gold'. It's leaves everyone in the room wondering just how White Denim haven't quite achieved the commercial success they truly deserve. Friday in photos
After some late night electro courtesy of Simian Mobile Disco and the banging Michael Mayer, dragging myself out of bed on Saturday seemed all too painful, until I remembered what musical treats lay ahead. Before live proceedings however, it's over to the cheapest bar in Reykjavik for some liquid refreshment - £2.50 a pint would have been truly unheard of at previous Iceland Airwaves. Ske get things off to a disappointing start over in a half empty Iðno, lacking any substance they're the archetypal middling indie band. The truly epic Singapore Sling serve up a cacophonous post-rock dirge over in NASA and alongside FM Belfast are easily one of the best Icelandic bands of the weekend.
Similar plaudits can't be said for America's Boy Crisis next. Irritating to the core, the band members jump around with boyish fervour, but their songs are so dire they really shouldn't be looking so pleased with themselves. Some call them the ultimate Marmite band, but sadly the taste leaves us baulking. Jumping ship, it's over to Iðno for a bit of eighties-inspired Killers-esque gloom courtesy of White Lies. Turning up almost half an hour late, the room has almost emptied by the time the bash out their rousing set. A damn shame. Astounded by the size of the queue for Vampire Weekend, I opt to catch Crystal Castles as the penultimate live act of Airwaves. Rammed to capacity, the room is a swathe of spilt beer and sweat as Alice Glass manically bounces round the tiny stage shrieking the nonsensical lyrics to 'Alice Practise', 'Air War' and more.
Enthused by an in-store appearance earlier in the day, the only band to see this week off in style is definitely Boys in a Band. Acoustically they're endearing enough, but when they switch to electric instruments they're in their element. Raw and powerful, the unlikely looking fivesome are a brilliant live force and the kind of band the made the trip wholly worthwhile. Roll on 2009! Saturday in photos
