Reading in Prince George

Jordan Scott and I are thrilled to head to Prince George, BC this week to participate in both the CNC Caledonia Reading Series and the UNBC Just West of Unruly Reading Series. If you're in the neighbourhood, pop by for hellos!

Adventures in Iceland: Airwaves music festival

Iceland Airwaves is a four-day music festival in Reykjavík featuring over 200 bands. The city splits wide in the evenings, with the most intense, impassioned partying I've never imagined could exist. Though some of the more popular venues and acts would, at times, demand up to half an hour waiting in lines, I managed to see every band I'd hoped to see, and without missing any seconds (yes, copious knocking on wood while there). Here's a list of what I saw; if you're unfamiliar with these groups, do follow the links and give a listen.

THURSDAY... without much plan, I stumbled into a dinner with members of Hraun, then wandered to Iðnó for drinks with Hildur and Linda, where the gentle tones of most bands had us entranced...

Kira Kira: airy and warm, Kira Kira's tinkles and beats wrapped my eardrums in an aural embrace, the perfect introduction to the festival. A little spooky, a lot expansive, with instrumentation ranging from xylophone and music box to drums and sundries.

My Summer as a Salvation Soldier: half an hour of ultra slow guitar, lyrics, and drums à la Songs: Ohia summons the sleepies, so when this Icelandic band kicked three power chords into their last song, I was theirs. I'm awake! I'm with you! Sweet!

Grizzly Bear: for a brief interlude, I wandered with Örvar Smárason and his sister, Vala, to the Reykjavík Art Museum for this American outfit that featured sweeping hipster folk and stunning harmony.

Ben Frost: returning to Iðnó, I caught the latter half of Ben Frost's experimental composition, a driving computer-created soundscape with seven or eight live electric guitarists playing one chord for half an hour. The guitarists rocked their solo chord hard; both the sound and schtick proved mesmerizing. Also neat to see Reykjavík!'s Gummi and Haukur participate.

Sam Amidon: the closing act of the night was oneiric. Sam Amidon's southern-folk aesthetic, paired with Nico Muhly's orchestral talents, delighted. Favourite moment was Sam's teetering dance with fall that closed the show.

FRIDAY... this was the highlight of my festival, as I got to see the band I'd stayed in Iceland to see, hang out backstage, start what I hope will become an influential dialogue with Birgitta Birgirsdóttir, plus indulge in further Reykjavík!ian hedonism as I witnessed Erna Ómarsdóttir's incredible pipes.

Reykjavík!: see my earlier post on these phenoms. Better still, watch the video from this performance.

múm: aaahhhh, múm. I've been devoted to their ambient quorks and pips for several years, so it was a pleasure to see them live and hang out with them post-show. As serendipity would have it, I arrived just prior to their start, wound my way to front stage-right (random snapshot of my audience position here), and was greeted by Birgitta shortly after. While the Reykjavík Art Museum wasn't the ideal venue for this group, it was nevertheless wonderful to hear so much from the new album and to see Örvar, Mr. Silla, and the crew weave magic. Truly a treat, and I got to hang out backstage afterwards (which is my excuse for only seeing two bands this night, though there was much more to see). Speaking of the new album, Go Go Smear the Poison Ivy has become my anthemic nostalgia for the trip -- instant time portal. For my Montreal and Toronto friends, if you have a spare evening this week, I heavily encourage you to go to the múm concert in your city! They're touring all over the States and Europe, too, so do make sure you see them if they come your way.

SATURDAY... hungover (a.k.a. feeling like a bag of smashed assholes), I dragged myself from bed around 3pm, dressed for the evening, and met Hildur for a pizza-breakfast...

Reykjavík! x2: 12 Tonar, a small music store downtown, cleared displays out of the way to pack the band and audience into the space. The band chased this energetic performance with an invitation to their studio space where they continued the music. Video clip of studio performance here.

Mugison: home-grown indie rock, Mugison came highly recommended to me by, well, everybody I encountered. The audience response to the unveiling of his new songs was overwhelmingly positive. Fun atmosphere.

Seabear: caught the end of their set, and it intrigued. Looking forward to further listening.

Benni Hemm Hemm: gotta love a music festival that features brass on so many stages. Benni Hemm Hemm blared enchanting songs. I peeked in and out of their set, as the venue was crowded and behind schedule. Met with Vala, and we wandered to Gaukurinn for...

FM Belfast: what started as a musically energetic, pizza-fueled day ended similarly. Vala and I snagged front-row spots for FM Belfast (of which Örvar is also a member), a geeky electronic team roaring with catchy one-liners and blazing beats. For their final number, the frontman introduced the song in Icelandic, though I caught the English words "Killing in the name of." That caught my attention, as I was immediately transported to a 1997 concert I saw at Toronto's Maple Leaf Gardens where Rage Against the Machine closed with that song. Flashforward to Airwaves. FM Belfast. The beat kicks in, multiple band members with microphones kick into their cult hit "Lotus," which is, in fact, an unreal cover of Rage's song. It was, simply, wowsville. Haukur even jumped onstage to scream along with them. I'm still processing how FM Belfast's physicality and musicality contextually shifts the lyrics. Do check out their site, where you can hear their version (though, I've gotta say, it's not in the same goodly realm as the wild live incarnation).

SUNDAY... after a rejuvenating splash with Hildur in Laugardalslaug -- one of Reykjavík's spas complete with hot pots, saunas, and Olympic-sized swimming pools -- and a restorative Italian dinner, we had drinks with Australian group Winterpark and Haukur before taking in the last night of the festival.

Skakkamanage: though the packed houses of the night before at Nasa were a distant memory, Skakkamanage played a good set. This band also touts Örvar as a member (playing shakers and harmonica one-handed), so my Icelandic adventures came full-circle as I had the pleasure of seeing him perform one last time.

The festival included a couple of Canadian acts, so it was fitting that my final shows of the weekend were by names I know: Buck 65 and Plants and Animals. Thus concluded one hell of a memorable weekend in the Bay of Smoke.

***

A side note to self, I also saw these bands outside of the festival. Must revisit memories: Reykjavík!, Mr. Silla, Ólöf Arnalds, Kira Kira

Adventures in Iceland: Erna Ómarsdóttir

As you likely gathered from my last post, one of the exciting artists I encountered while in Iceland is modern dancer Erna Ómarsdóttir. Her website has an awesome selection of video clips, so you can get a sense of her choreography, movement, and voice. SO EXCITED. Seriously on.

Adventures in Iceland: Reykjavík!

Reykjavík!, a heavy/indie-rock/post-punk band with some members from Ísafjörður (though now relocated to Reykjavík) and comprised of Bóas/Haukur/Gummi/Geiri/Kristján, was my first introduction to a cross-disciplinary constellation of Icelandic artists. Though I was fairly bleary after 24+ hours of travel sans sleep and the first lovely segment of the poetry festival, Eiríkur Örn Norðdahl enticed Conor and me to join him at Café Amsterdam to partake of the dulcet tones of the local "penis rock 'n' roll" scene, as he's fondly dubbed it.

After thrashing to two warm-up bands (complete with musician leaping onto table and pouring Jack Daniel's into open mouths), the audience had sufficiently prepped its flight muscles and was ready to embrace Reykjavík!. I was instantly enamoured with their style, which proved quite generous to its audience -- whether through sharing microphones, Bóas the singer in the thick of dancers while belting out a tune, or inviting guest artists to join them onstage. In fact, I was literally pushed onstage at one point and told I could have a microphone only if I screamed or spoke into it. So I screamed. Naturally.

And which illustrates my point: generous with audience. I found Reykjavík!'s comfort onstage, and in sharing the magic to create with those in the room, delightful. As for the cross-disciplinarity, the night held further marvels as Reykjavík!'s guitarist, Haukur, introduced a song midway through the set by chanting, "EiríkurÖrnNorðdahl-EiríkurÖrnNorðdahl..." which sparked an impromptu poetry recitation by Eiríkur as the band rocked alongside him.

That initial introduction to these uninhibited, exuberant performers had them swiftly stowed behind my left ventricle. And what pleasure to get to know them over the proceeding week, and to see them play a further three times. With each successive show, my initial impressions of generosity and warmth were strengthened.

Though each performance was special for its own reason -- first night: seeing Eiríkur read with them; third time: small music store stuffed to the gills, standing next to ten-year-olds; fourth time: ears that nearly bled -- the second performance was the most ecstasis-producing for me. Pure exclamation point over the head. That yesyes feeling. Why? Reykjavík! + modern dancer Erna Ómarsdóttir.

Ohh, thank you thank you: a door has opened.

See clip below. This was easily one of the best things I witnessed at Iceland Airwaves, and has me thinking again about the conventional ways the female voice is expected to sound.

Reykjavík! @ Gaukurinn, Iceland Airwaves 2007

Five devils inhabit Erna Ómarsdóttir as she opens Reykjavík!'s set at Gaukurinn.

Adventures in Iceland: Reykjavík

RECOLLECTION: fresh air * Faxaflói Bay * Tjörnin * Laugardalslaug and compulsory swimming lessons * geothermal and hydro-electric power * no national military * Peace Tower * Þingvellir * Geysir * Gullfoss * Bláa Lónið * sulfuric shower * expensive * low unemployment rate (1.3% in 2006) * vegetarian-friendly * risa opal candy * skyr * smjör * brightly coloured houses like Halifax * Nordal Institute * clean, clean, clean * rejuvenation * almost 100% literacy rate * late-night social engagements (3am+!) * Iceland Airwaves!

NEXT TIME: folkloristics * the ghost centre * tour Nesjavellir * Kerið * Westfjords * Museum of Witchcraft * Museum of Phallology * Snæfellsjökull * Klaustrið? * Snorri Sturluson Icelandic Fellowship? * speak Icelandic...

(picture taken during Iceland Airwaves by NME at Reykjavík Art Museum on Oct. 20,
during múm's set; Birgitta and I look distracted at the front.
check out NME's site for more excellent pictures from the festival)

Adventures in Iceland: Nýhil Day Three

On the third day of the Nýhil Poetry Festival, poets participated in panel discussions at the Nordic House. The first panel was chaired by Birna Bjarnadóttir and comprised of Markku Paasonen, Vilja-Tuulia Huotarinen, Leif Holmstrand, and Arngrímur Vídalín. I appreciated the structure of this panel, which included an invitation to the poets to share poems during the talk; nice to contextualize work within the discussion. An intriguing digression completed the panel, where an audience member raised the obtuse issue of the role of beauty in contemporary poetry. This could have been a topic intrinsic to the panel, had parameters been established for what was meant by 'beauty'. As was, I felt as though some speakers tried to address what was meant by the abstract notion while others attempted to answer the question... A fascinating, dizzying game of trying to discern what, exactly, everyone meant.

The second panel focusws on politics, poetry, and literary groups, with digressions into English as a dominant language and marginalization. It was chaired by Benedikt Hjartarson; I joined Ingólfur Gíslason, Lars Skinnebach, Linh Dinh, and Eiríkur Örn Norðdahl for the chat.

There was a high level of audience interactivity, and the panels felt at times like they might have been better suited to a round-table forum given the audience participation. Definitely a pleasure to partake in the afternoon.

Nýhil ended off an exciting weekend of sharing with a classy group dinner in Stokkseyri, 45 minutes from Reykjavík, at Fjöruborðið (famed for its small, Icelandic lobsters). It was such a rare gift to be invited to participate, and to fraternize with Nýhilists and international poets. Takk fyrir!!

Adventures in Iceland: Nýhil Day Two

The second day of Nýhil’s 3rd International Poetry Festival began with a belly-filling breakfast at Prikið, after which Conor and I raced to Mál og Menning for an afternoon bookstore reading. Mál og Menning, similar to other contemporary spaces in Reykjavík, has a clean and manicured feeling to it, with large windows and polished wood. I was ecstatic to see an entire table on ground level devoted to displaying Nýhil's publications. Ingólfur Gíslason, Gísli Hvanndal, Linh Dinh, Eiríkur Örn Norðdahl, and I gave brief readings. (I read the wolf poems from echology.)

The reading was followed by chillaxing with Eiríkur and dinner at one of Reykjavík's oldest Chinese restaurants. We then scooted to the National Theatre's basement for the second ten-reader poetry party, a night again filled with excellent readings (largely in Icelandic) and good energy.

For his reading, Arngrímur Vídalín switched between paper and computer screen as he read (video below). Vilja-Tuulia Huotarinen cast an enchantment over the audience that held me transfixed by her dark Finnish tongue. Other readers included Kristín Svava Tómasdóttir, Ásmundur Ásmundsson, Björk Þorgrímsdóttir, Kristín Eiríksdóttir, and Jóhamar. Music was provided by the lilting Ólöf Arnalds.

Linh Dinh read widely from Borderless Bodies, and also shared a lengthy poem focused on English translations of Vietnamese idioms that use the word 'eat.' Linh's a powerhouse thinker, dynamic and challenging in his assertions; a sample from Sunday's panel discussions included Linh proposing that the eventual fall of the American empire will trigger a death for English. Conor spent some time after we met Linh reading aloud to me from jam alerts. I would love to have him up to Toronto for a reading and discussion.

Of the Icelandic poets who read on Saturday evening, Örvar Smárason was my most anticipated. I've followed his work as a musician for several years, and have delighted in the quirky lyrics (and especially the titles!) of songs by his group, múm. Örvar's reading proved the most unintentionally hilarious of the evening, as he'd invited four friends to sing in harmonized a capella while he read a poem about Montevideo. What delighted was the occasional lost pitch or note, and the eventual corpsing of the singers.

I anchored the night with excerpts from Wide slumber.

Do check out video clips below, shot by Eiríkur!

Örvar Smárason @ Nýhil Poetry Festival

Örvar Smárason's set delighted with his merry band of singers.

a.rawlings @ Nýhil Poetry Festival

Linh Dinh @ Nýhil Poetry Festival

Linh Dinh reads dark poetry.

Vilja-Tuulia Huotarinen @ Nýhil Poetry Festival

Vilja-Tuulia reads in Finnish from two books. Bewitching!

Arngrímur Vídalín @ Nýhil Poetry Festival

Arngrímur reads in Icelandic.

Adventures in Iceland: Bittersweet farewell

I'll provide a more comprehensive overview of the poetry festival, as well as Iceland Airwaves (a 200+ band music festival that proved to be the most intense, amazing 4-day party I've never even imagined could exist), once I find spare moments. But as tonight marks my final few hours in Reykjavík, I thought it appropriate to bid my farewell by introducing the two Icelandic best friends who've kept me busy this week.

Hildur Lilliendahl and Haukur Magnússon have shown me extraordinary kindness. Their depths, intelligence, and generosity kept me well fed, stimulated, hydrated, fascinated, relaxed, blissful... blissful... blissful.

Ég er mjög ánægð!!! Ranka við sér Toronto, takk fyrir!

Adventures in Iceland: Nýhil Day One

After a cancelled flight, a redirect red-eye through London (Heathrow), and a delayed Keflavík-bound plane, I arrived in Reykjavík last Friday. Despite malnutrition setting in from airplane/port fare as well as complete exhaustion, I dusted myself off and headed with Conor to the opening night of Nýhil’s 3rd International Poetry Festival.

Our late arrival to the festivities (combined with my bleariness) meant that I missed several of the ten or so readings that kickstarted the festival. But what I did catch was wholly worth the lack of sleep. We entered the spacious basement of the National Theatre to witness Hildur Lilliendahl's reading. Hildur writes and performs in Icelandic, like most of the festival's participants. Icelandic as a language has held a fascination for me for some time, as an old language fiercely guarded, spoken by a minute percentage of the world's population. Aside from a few numbers, pronouns, and prepositions, my semantic comprehension of the evening's work gave over to aural immersion.

Though the reading order escapes me, I was pleased to hear Ingólfur Gíslason read, who is the co-creator of Handsprengja í morgunsárið with Eiríkur Örn Norðdahl. As I understand the concept, Handsprengja translates poems by political figures (Saddam Hussein, Ernesto Che Guevara, Ronald Reagan, Osama bin Laden, etc.) into Icelandic, with Ingólfur and Eiríkur attaching one or two lines of biographical context onto probably banal occasional poems.

Lars Skinnebach gave an energetic, rousing performance in Danish; his reading energy reminded me slightly of Christian Bök's in its theatricality and speed. During a panel on Sunday, I learned that one of Lars' poems (Eiríkur translated the title for me loosely as "Read Me: I Have Big Tits") had appeared in an Icelandic newspaper the week prior, which had caused a small uproar amongst some Icelanders given the use of the word 'cunt.' An intriguing conversation ensued, revealing Scandinavian cultural attitudes towards this word. If curious, check out this introduction to an Icelandic anthology, where Eiríkur describes the frequent employment of 'cunt' in Finnish as a common and largely inoffensive expletive such as 'damn.'

Other readers of the night included Swedish writer Leif Holmstrand, Finnish writer Markku Paasonen (whose hardcover books are beautifully designed), and Eiríkur. It was a particular thrill to hear Eiríkur read, as his Icelandic wordplay and enuniation proved artful sound poetry. Music was provided by the excellent Mr. Silla, who has also begun working with one of my favourite groups, múm. Her setlist delighted us to no end -- covers of the theme song for The Never-ending Story, "What Is Love?", and a couple of Fleetwood Mac hits, all sung in haunting soprano accompanied by a ukelele.

Please check out video clips below for readings by Markku and Eiríkur.

Markku Paasonen @ Nýhil Poetry Festival

Markku performed poetry in English and Finnish at the festival on Friday.

Pol Pot (Pantún) by Eiríkur Örn Norðdahl

Eiríkur performs poetry on an Icelandic literary television show.

Adventures in Iceland: Part One

For readers of commutiny, it will come as no surprise that I'm posting a) with enthusiasm, b) about poetry, and c) about Iceland. Which is where I'm curently visiting. Which has been incredible. Which isn't over yet. I'll post later as I have more time, but for now, here's a little taste of awesome.

Nýhil Poetry Festival: brilliant fun, highly and wholly recommended. Reykjavík: bright, clean, effervescent. Reykjavík!: I'm in love.

Brian Joseph Davis launches I, Tania

Brian Joseph Davis will launch his new novel, I, Tania, tonight at Supermarket (268 Augusta Ave., Toronto), 8pm. Do come if you're around. For the launch, Damian Rogers, Ken Babstock, Bill Kennedy, and I will read excerpts from novels by writers who are not BJD, and who did not write I, Tania.

a.raw er kanadískt ljóðskáld...

In anticipation of the poetry festival this weekend, Nýhil has posted a program complete with bios, translated poems, and the festival itinerary.

Vivisection

I've been toying with a new project that considers the relationship between vivisection and bodies of text, and am full of exclamation marks for the work of two people whose creations intersect with this topic.

A version of Monica Aasprong's Soldatmarkedet can be flipped through here. So much possible extrapolation, room for theory, from a text that focuses on erasure, homogeny, white-out, and the rapid-fire clock-tick/footstep/hammering insistence of the 't.'

Brian Dettmer's breathtaking book autopsies offer some of the more inspired vispo I've encountered recently. If you scroll mid-way down this page, click on his maps of the Middle East with the excised text.

Hvað heitir þú?

Ég heiti a.raw.

For those inclined, there's a nice Icelandic-English dictionary here, and for the ambitious -- an incredible set of free online grammar lessons offered through the University of Iceland. The lessons are impressively designed, complete with audio clips, interactive games, and an intelligent layout that remembers where you are in the series. I've been rumbling through the lessons and am truly impressed. I can count to twenty, identify colours, and conjugate a few verbs... I've been working on my voiced dental non-sibilant fricatives and alveolar trills while practicing my ability to sight-read Icelandic (for pronunciation, not yet semantics).

Week in a nutshell

So much has happened in the last week, it's dizzying. All has been positive and thought-provoking, though. Here's a brief run-down:

• Donato Mancini read to an intimate crew last Friday in Toronto. I really dug his work, and was deeply impressed with his generous As for our Qs. He's kindly shared one of his poems with me, which I, in turn, plan to share with a group of high-school students this week...
• ...which leads me to school. I'm working with another round of OAC AiE projects this year, placing me in high schools for lengthy stretches. I'm pleased to be working alongside one of my favourite educators as I facilitate discussions and exercises for her literacy course. We covered hefty ground during our first visit (these students dug deep from the get-go, a promising sign we'll have an informative week ahead of us).
• I nuited and blanched from 7pm Saturday to 7am Sunday. The night proved a combination of "Hallowe'en for artists" and "endurance test." I dressed up as a poet and was thrilled by the turn-out and feedback in my basement corner, even though the 12-hour arting felt daunting as I began. Fascinating set of unpredictables for the readings included ambient noise and foot traffic that occasionally impeded on my personal space, which in turn had me conjure intense levels of focus. Reports from Cecil Street Community Centre, where I was set up, mention that approximately 4,000 people came to our venue. Thank you to all who listened, questioned, chillaxed, discussed, and especially those who whisked me away during breaks for road pop and axe tales!
• Mercury's new website is up and getting its sea legs.
  
• One week til Iceland. Schweet!!
  

fiðrildafræðinga for lepidopterists

"Víður lúr fyrir fiðrildafræðinga" is an Icelandic translation of "Wide slumber for lepidopterists." I love how diacritics add an agitated graphical buzzing to a character, and how the eth looks rather like it's airborne, or as though a moth has thrust its proboscis deep into its open 'o.' I'm intrigued by the letter-sounds that recur in each language (i, l, f, r) in this translation, and how the popping dentals (t, d) smoothe and soften with the letter shifts (ð).

Eiríkur Örn Norðdahl's translation of p. 43 from Wide slumber has been posted online!

Countdown: Iceland

Iceland's busy poetry collective, Nýhil, is hosting an international poetry festival in Reykjavík (October 12-14, 2007). I'm absolutely honoured to be invited this year, and if you've chatted with me in person recently, you've probably heard my random exclamations of "Iceland!" or "Reykjavík!" The festival promises to be an intense experience, with a roster of authors including Linh Dinh, Lars Skinnebach, Leif Holmstrand, Markku Paasonen, Vilja-Tuulia Huotarinen, and Sean Bonney.