大象传媒

Arctic glaciers, volcanoes and awesome wilderness, Iceland is a place of extreme and stark beauty, a land like no other. And Iceland Airwaves is a music festival like no other. Each year downtown Reykjavik showcases the finest in Icelandic talent alongside quality European and American imports. It's an opportunity to see established and up-and-coming acts in intimate bars and clubs in the company of some of the most hospitable gig-goers in the world. And, what's best, no campsites.

Day One: Wednesday, 17th October

The first day of Airwaves is given over almost entirely to native acts. Across the several venues there will be only two non-Icelandic bands playing, one of which I'll have the misfortune to see. The folk whimsy of Mark煤s Bjarnason aka The Diversion Sessions gets proceedings off to a pleasant, if unadventurous beginning. Bjarnason has some pithy lyrics, not least this little ditty, "Hey man / Are You a Gay Man / In Disguise?"

Next up, the male / female front pairing of Klassart provide intriguing vocal contrast as they run through a mix of self-penned numbers and covers, again it's comfortable and accomplished, but lacking that vital spark of ingenuity.

The crowd inside the Organ bar starts to sway like sailors on the deck of a storm-tossed ship as local favourites B. Sig take to the stage. Their bluesy rock 'n' roll is served up on a platter of pure enthusiasm, it's full-throttle stuff, the charge of the guitar brigade ensuring any shortcomings are overlooked. The pace slows and musical horizons are expanded with the arrival of M煤gsefjun. Their inverted alt-rock with an accordion twist is truly enchanting. Each chorus is an eruption of emotion, little pockets of brilliance evidenced by their counter-intuitive playing and a willingness to merge styles with impunity.

One of the most talked up acts of the entire festival are Solid Gold, an indie-rock electronica three-piece from the US. Each member is dressed in a white suit, Jackson Pollock splattered with an assortment of colour. Their much thought-out aesthetic bodes well. Unfortunately they are a style over substance failure. The songs, a shuddering beast of a track called 'Bible Thumper' aside, are shallow and lacking in anything resembling tunefulness. They are also utterly devoid of personality, an indie-rock boyband who take themselves much too seriously. Upon closer inspection what seems Solid Gold is nothing more substantial than a Caramac wrapper.

The riotous hip-hop of The Zuckakis Mondeyano Project soon dispels the turgid pall of Solid Gold. They are a ramshackle trio, DJ and two MCs creating a confusion of beats and bizarre rhymes. They play it primarily for laughs, but their sonic slapstick disguises a seriously accomplished grasp of songwriting. Prolonged exposure and the joke might eventually wear thin, but for the thirty minutes they're onstage they provide a thoroughly entertaining close to the evening.

Francis Jones