There’s something about most Icelandic bands that’s just pleasing. By contrast, in my mind I associate Sweden & Finland with Death Metal (and ABBA) and Iceland with Operatic Indie Folk. An belief which will probably most definitely be clear by the end of Icelandic Week.
Up now is Seabear, which was started by Sindri Már Sigfússon (who also records as Sin Fang Bous) but expanded into a full seven-piece band when Seabear was asked to open for The Books (another all-time favorite band of mine).
In the category of “Iceland Is So Small Everyone Knows Everyone,” Seabear member Kjartan Bragi Bjarnason is also in a band called Kimono that has released three albums on Bragi Olafsson’s label, Smekkleysa (which translates as “Bad Taste”).
There are a number of songs that I’d like to include from Seabear’s We Built a Fire, including Lion Face Boy, Fire Dies Down, Cold Summer, and We Fell Off the Roof, but decided to go with “I’ll Build You a Fire.” Enjoy!
Randall Jarrell once argued a point that I will now paraphrase and, in doing so, over-simplify: As a culture, we need book criticism, not book reviews. I sort of agree, but let’s not get into all of that. Having finished. . .
Like any good potboiler worth its salt, Fuminori Nakamura’s The Gun wastes no time setting up its premise: “Last night, I found a gun. Or you could say I stole it, I’m not really sure. I’ve never seen something so. . .
Heiner Resseck, the protagonist in Monika Held’s thought-provoking, first novel, This Place Holds No Fear, intentionally re-lives his past every hour of every day. His memories are his treasures, more dear than the present or future. What wonderful past eclipses. . .
If you’ve ever worked in a corporate office, you’ve likely heard the phrase, “Perception is reality.” To Björn, the office worker who narrates Jonas Karlsson’s novel The Room, the reality is simple: there’s a door near the bathroom that leads. . .
I recently listened to Three Percent Podcast #99, which had guest speaker Julia Berner-Tobin from Feminist Press. In addition to the usual amusement of finally hearing both sides of the podcast (normally I just hear parts of Chad’s side. . .
Let’s not deceive ourselves, man is nothing very special. In fact, there are so many of us that our governments don’t know what to do with us at all. Six billion humans on the planet and only six or seven. . .
“Rambling Jack—what’s that?”
“A novel. Novella, I guess.”
“Yeah, it looks short. What is it, a hundred pages?”
“Sorta. It’s a duel language book, so really, only about… 50 pages total.”
“And this—what. . .
Many authors are compared to Roberto Bolaño. However, very few authors have the privilege of having a Roberto Bolaño quote on the cover of their work; and at that, one which states, “Good readers will find something that can be. . .
In Josep Maria de Sagarra’s Private Life, a man harangues his friend about literature while walking through Barcelona at night:
When a novel states a fact that ties into another fact and another and another, as the chain goes on. . .
César Aira dishes up an imaginative parable on how identity shapes our sense of belonging with Dinner, his latest release in English. Aira’s narrator (who, appropriately, remains nameless) is a self-pitying, bitter man—in his late fifties, living again with. . .