ICELAND'S financial system might be in a dire state, but in musical terms at least, their credit's still good around here. As long as they keep exporting bands like Hjaltalín, anyway, a quirky septet who have shades of some of their compatriots – dre
amy, orchestral post-rockers Sigur Rós and Múm and winsome indie pop band Seabear – but at the same time succeed in sounding very individual.
Sweet, swooping, sweeping and fluttering all seem like appropriate words to describe their hard-to-categorise style; they call it "Classical, soul: classoul," and that's about right.
The classical part comes from combination of Viktor Orri Árnason's bowed, plucked, scraped and scratched violin, and the low honking of Rebekka Bryndís' bassoon. The soul part derives from the emphatic and searching vocals of Sigga Thorlacius and frontman Högni Egilsson.
Suitcase Man and Traffic Music recalled the brisk chamber pop of Sufjan Stevens. An insight into Egilsson's heartfelt lyrical outlook was granted by (deep breath) Thu komst vid hjartad i mer, which translates as "when you came into my life I changed". A clunky sentiment perhaps, but one that – Egilsson assured us – "sounds much better in Icelandic."
With the subtle ingenuity of their music and their ability to laugh at their country's economic woes too, Hjaltalín are an easy band to like. "You should all come to Iceland on holiday,"Egilsson insisted at the end. "It's cheap as f***."
Someone hurry up and give that man a job for the tourist board.
