1. |
The Window Seat
02:40
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and if the window seat’s not taken, I hope you could oblige;
I want - with my own eyes - to see the whole thing left behind
‘oh how shall we pour scorn on thee?’
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2. |
Laugavegur 18
02:59
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at Laugavegur 18, there is a nightly revue
we go there after it’s dark (around a quarter-to-two)
on every table: a chess board and glasses of beer
and to the side the house band are ringing in the new year
at Laugavegur 18, they sell old books downstairs:
catalogue raisoneé you cannot find anywhere
I pick up something of Laxness’ I’ve never tried
and settle down in a chair of Scandianvian design
at Laugavegur 18, I spend an evening with you
you don’t play chess very well - and I don’t read much, it’s true
are we distracted by love or unironically kitschy?
who cares; it’s Christmas; we’re here; buy us a drink and then kiss me!
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3. |
Krýsuvík
01:14
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4. |
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five schoolgirls posing; two guitars
what was this moment?
some fifty-three years pass
I meet their gaze
what were they singing?
what were they thinking about?
what made them anxious?
who did they love?
Hjördis, she looks sly as anything; Guðrun, like she might cry;
Svandís looks oh-so pleased with herself; Sigurveig gives side-eye
Dröfn I’m most often drawn to, forcing her weak smile; she frets the C major chord
then me - just standing, looking all these decades with stationary records
five schoolgirls posing; two guitars
what was this moment?
some fifty-three years pass
I meet their gaze
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5. |
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6. |
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7. |
Reykjavík
05:56
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when I was sixteen, I was sweet on this fairly feckless ingénue
she wasn’t really all that taken with the efforts I’d go to
a situation that repeated - more times than I’d care to admit
but in between them, I developed other feelings (at a distance) for Reykjavík
this came about as I was I writing about the Church of Hallgrímur
a History of Art assignment researching strange architecture
and it seemed to me absurdly novel that people settled out so far
in freezing darkness, a sub-arctic city of European outcasts
the plane doors open to sulphuric confrontation on the tongue
the landscape’s different shades of burning; black, umber, ochre, grey and rust
there is one ring-road round the island; nobody can survive the centre
‘should this exist at all,’ I wonder; knowing then it was meant for me
today, I walked down to the lighthouse at Grótta in Seltjarnarnes
it started getting dark at midday; the grass was beautiful and dead
the path was flanked with rocks and steep banks down into icy waters black
the Esja fills the whole horizon; a razor wind is at your back
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8. |
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The Araby Bazaar England, UK
A cute cute, in a stupid-ass way.
'weird as helllll... kind of driving hard rock with really
intellectual poncy talk-singing. [Likeable] but... deeply odd.' @thesweetsnob, Twitter
Cover versions on Bandlab: www.bandlab.com/the_araby_bazaar/albums
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A throbbing homage to Carpenter horror soundtracks, replete with hyper-dramatic blurb and a chillwavey j-card. Well? Go on then.
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