“So, Bob Cluness /(Af hverju ekki bara koma fram og skrifa í egin nafni?). Who Are You to decite. You don’t know anything. You hate everything. I Hope you get what you wan so muched very soon – get fucked!
so all of us can get on forgertting you and your filth.”
I get this a lot. A lot of people often come to the assumption that for some reason I hate music, that not only do I hate music, that I get some kind of perverse please in hating it, spending my days holed up in my nest cackling bitter threats against the tru people who love musizzzzzzzz.
Let me tell you a little story….
I live in 101 Reykjavik. But I don’t work there. In fact unlike a lot of people who work in 101, I don’t actually have a job in the cultural industries at all. I actually work waaaaay on the outskirts of the city for a prosthetic limbs company. I’ve been there for 6 years now. When I tell people this they often go “Ohh! that sounds really worthwhile! You must really love working there.”
I don’t. I hate working there. I work in production which is pretty much the bottom rung in the pecking order. That was until recently, when I was transferred to another department known for its strict guidelines on what you can wear, do, go, etc… Think of the opening titles to “Blue Collar” or the scene in “8 Mile” where Eminem is working doing the same task for 10, 12 hours a day. Effectively it’s the bottom rung of the bottom rung, the kind of soul crushing drudgery that can pretty much cripple the spirit of even the most positive wallflower this side of the age Of Aquarius.
The ONLY good thing about this job is that I can listen to music while I work. This is a godsend for me. With my mp3 player, ear buds and noise protectors, I use music as a shield between myself and my environment Music allows me to let my mind escape the real world crap I’m in.
For this to work, I can’t really be doing with music that merely acts as wallpaper, that offers empty platitudes, that feels like it’s going through the motions. It has to really connect with me. And this means that (In accordance with Sturgeon’s Law) that most of our esteemed local music just doesn’t cut it. I’m sorry to say, but most Icelandic music is as boring as fuck.
But some music does connect with me. Music such as SIN FANG for example. I’ve had his most recent album, ‘Flowers,’ kicking around my flat for a few months now, but I’ve only really given it the odd cursory listen. And it’s good, but it was missing that “click” moment when the music inside opens itself up to you.
Well it kind of did last week when heading to work on the bus. As the sun started to rise over the hills in the east driving along Miklabraut at 6:30am, this track started playing and the wondrousness of the music suddenly became apparent. The brightness of that piano in those opening bars. It gives it an affinity with piano heavy songs such as “Whole Of the Moon” (A big hit up my neck of the woods in the ’80s). And then that low-level bass and the drums blast in, it launches WIDE EYED and expectant.
He’s come a long way ol’ Sin Fang, back from when he was known as Sin Fang Bous. Even then, although he was always known for rather idiosyncratic lo-fi bedroom electronic/acoustic workouts, it always seemed as if there was something hiding underneath all that stacked production, of songs that wanted to break out from those confined four walls and shout from the rooftops.
We seem to have reached that moment with “What’s Wrong With Your Eyes.” It’s a deceptively simple song. Simple lyrical verses repeated, chords you could pick up in 3 minutes. But it’s the BIGNESS of the song that makes you sit up and notice. It’s laying your heart on a sleeve music resplendent in widescreen Technicolor. Sindri’s voice seems to have become more confident, bolder and front & centre in the mix. The first time he sings the line “Made the trees grow out of our eyes,” there’s a release of emotion that makes you want to latch onto whatever it is that he’s feeling.
Naturally this, combined with the unfolding of the day, meant that i ended up playing this 3 times in a row on the bus. And a few more times throughout the day. It’s a blessed piece of music as escapism that’s an instant music shield reinforcing properties. And anything that stops me from taking my own life through liquid silicon overdose.
I´m still not sure about all of the album (Slight hints of front loading in the track selection for me), but this song? Yeah… I can have this song in my life. god I’m such a hater!