Song of the day – 642: Kælan Mikla

It’s theatrical, sure.

Oh wait. You want more? As ever, the spaces reveal more than the detritus. Theatrical and a little threatening, the bass lines laid bare and sparse, like friendship. In Iceland, they call this ‘poetry punk’ and I’d like to think it’s been influenced by my old pal Patrik Fitzgerald or the 00s E London antifolk scene, but it’s too Anne Clark (Gothic, insular, coldwave) for that. You can near taste the vehemence, the alienation. (Cliched images of Iceland, Number One: alienated landscapes. I’ve been there, and, yes, some of it does look like middle Tasmania.) Everything is softened, female, questioning… until SUDDENLY the anger becomes overwhelming. I like the sound of the human sea birds. I like the dry pleading and shouting, the subtle harmonising. I revel in the silence, the sense of distance. The over-use of reverb. This is music that just wouldn’t come from LA.

Ætli það sé óhollt að láta sig dreyma? they ask, and it’s a good question.

Is it unhealthy to dream?

by Everett True

My name is Everett True. I am a music critic. This is what I do. I criticise music. The clue is in my job description – music critic. I do not consider myself a journalist, as I do not research or report hard news. I do not consider myself a commentator as I believe that everyone should be a participant. I criticise people and in return I am not surprised if other people criticise me. It is part of the whole deal of being in the public arena. I am Everett True. Believe in me and I have power like a God. Quit believing in me and I no longer exist.