A LONDON bar on the hottest day of 2003 might seem like an unusual place to conceive a unique music festival on the north west tip of Iceland, six hours by car from the capital Reykjavik. But Icelandic singer-songwriter Mugison has an endearingly unorthodox approach to much of what he does.
Back then he had just performed at a festival hosted by the Institute Of Contemporary Arts and was enjoying a few pints with his father, commonly known as Papa Mugi. The older man had recently returned to the small fishing town of Ísafjörður ("ice fj
ord", population circa 4,000] to become its harbourmaster.
"We had the idea to do a similar (free] festival, but with nice people," says Mugison, as he recalls enjoying some great bands but experiencing a less than cordial attitude from many of those involved in the London event.
The following day he called his friend Raggi from the Reykjavik band Trabant, and within days some of Iceland's top acts, including Sigur Rós, had agreed to play in return for travel, lodging, food and drink. They also agreed to be equal on the bill with performers from the local community, forfeit soundchecks, and play for only 20 minutes.
Deals were done with an airline, a beer company and a sponsor, whose backing of the event to the tune of ISKr 1 million (£6,600] is so discreet that it is not even clear who it is.
By the Easter weekend of 2004 Ísafjörður was hosting the first Aldrei fór ég suður festival, which translates as "Never went south". Ever since then, the festival has attracted some of Iceland's best-known musicians to play free gigs at a warehouse in the town's harbour.
For anybody used to the meticulous planning that goes into a music event in Scotland, the preparations at Aldrei can seem somewhat last-minute. Two hours before the performances are due to begin, volunteers are still attaching fairy lights to a fishing net which will serve as the stage decoration. A tractor stands in the middle of the venue, and the food and beer has yet to be delivered to the bar area.
But incredibly, nobody seems remotely concerned. There are no irate tour managers, nervous bands or stressed organisers, and as soon as the performances get underway, it is clear why – Icelandic musicians seem to have an innate ability to get on with playing without any fuss.
"There is a certain Icelandic mentality which adheres to the DIY spirit," explains Siggi Baldursson, the country's most famous drummer, who achieved acclaim in the Sugarcubes along with Björk. "It's a bit of an honour to come and play here," he adds.
Like many artists, Baldursson performs in several bands at the festival, most notably with Steintryggur, who offer a gripping fusion of Indian samples, excellent drumming and a singer who plucks a jaw harp. As they play to a packed warehouse, a group of children no older than seven watch rapt at the front of the stage, proving that, given the chance, the young are more than happy to embrace alternatives to the saccharine dross usually targeted at them.
Baldursson later appears fronting a calypso group in a local nightclub and also plays with the punk band Gavin Portland, underlining the broad-minded tastes of many musicians in Iceland.
In a country with a population of 300,000, few artists can live from music alone, meaning they are untroubled by commercial considerations and are free to experiment. This is evident with Hjaltalín, one of the first bands on the bill. Comprising ten members, including one of only 20 bassoon players in the country, they play joyous singalong songs with a distinctly quirky twist.
This diversity and openness to different genres is reflected in Aldrei's line-up. Punk band Morðingjarnir perform an adrenaline-fuelled set, which is cut short when the drunk bassist is carried off the stage for exhorting the audience to throw things at him.
They are soon followed by local legend Megas, an Icelandic Bob Dylan famed for lyrics that confront the less salubrious aspects of his society. At one point a ten-year-old child invades the stage, in a bid to get closer to an idol who is a good 50 years his senior. It is the equivalent of a primary school pupil trying to hug Mark E Smith from The Fall.
The Friday night is rounded off with Mugison's band playing a 1970s-style rock set, which has earned him a Canadian tour supporting Queens Of The Stone Age. Although the audience responds with fanatical enthusiasm, he keeps the performance to 20 minutes like everybody else, and is soon to be seen milling around the crowd unmolested. In a country as small as Iceland, heroes are very much part of the community.
By Saturday evening it seems that the entire area has decided to attend the festival. Many are eager to see the local male choir led by the hospital's head surgeon, Þorsteinn Johannesson. Aptly enough, the singers perform with Óttarr, the mild-mannered vocalist of surreal rock stalwarts Dr Spock.
"The idea was for them to be a typical choir but they really wanted to start shouting," he says. "Old guys in Iceland also follow the rock'n'roll scene!"
This is borne out on the night, as pensioners stand close to the stage while some of Iceland's hippest new acts perform. The impressive voice of 18-year-old Disa was unlikely to disturb the septuagenarians. But many of the seniors also stay to watch the semi-clad antics of excellent teenage keyboard punks Ultra Mega Teknóbandið Stefán, as well as the fantastic Icelandic rapping of hip-hop band XXX Rottweiler.
On Sunday night, almost 200 musicians and crew decamp to the nearby village of Flateyri, where Papa Mugi prepares them an Easter dinner before a colossal open mic session gets underway.
Outside, the temperature has dropped well below zero, but nobody seems to mind. Everybody is warmed by the unique experience they have shared over the past few days, and with the large quantity of beer available, maybe it is not so different to where Mugison and his father first had the idea to hold a festival.
Except, of course, their gathering is full of altogether nicer people.
The full article contains 1067 words and appears in The Scotsman newspaper.
