Langspil

The indigenous folk musics of the world may have become blended
as never before, but their strength is notable for how easily their essences
survive such interplay. The Yoruban tribal culture of Africa will continue
to stretch skins tightly across circles of wood as a resting place for its
talking drum rhythms. In Cuba, the hissing of dried seeds - a Garcia
Lorca phrase, if I accurately recall -will always preserve the five-beat
clave rhythm which permeates not only that nation´s music but how its
people move. In Iceland, it´s the wind you hear, in the breath,in the
ancient fifth-song harmonies, in the quaver of bow to strings as the
memory of the langspil is raised to life on a more contemporary violin
in the song of a string quartet.

http://www.library.wisc.edu/etext/Jonas/Skaldid/Skaldid-VIG-Ah.117.html

Today I had the opportunity to drive around Reykjavik on my own -
yikes! at first - and enjoyed getting lost while listening to the Icelandic
tonlíst on the radio. I didn´t understand more than a few words here
and there, but the melodies were lovely. Other than Björk and a few
other originals, much of the pop music sounds to my ears much like
pop music anywhere - fluffy, glossy, harmless. At times, I wince to
think that Abba has had more influence than, say, The Beatles. But
it´s only radio, and we all know what radio sounds like stateside, too.

Disa and her family have shared cds with me of a number of the more
compelling and deeper-rooted artists in the native music scene. There
are a few - Megas being one -whose lyrics are so dialectically creative
that capturing their invention in English translation is difficult. As
Icelandic´s language has maintained its ancient roots while combining
modern inflections, I can understand how some of the subtleties could
be lost in translation. In the instrumental music there is no such limiation.
The melodic powers of Icelandic music are rare, to these ears, and they
summon the landscapes of this country - above ground and buried - with
uncommon grace. Eerie, beautiful string harmonies. In thechoral music I
bought yesterday, despite knowing only a little of the themes in the lyrics,
I am transported into that two-fold consciousness I mentioned before,
where the here and now joins hands with always. I don´t mean to wax
poetic, but the music and the place are essentially joined.

When Disa sings an old folk tale, her tongue making those sudden leaps
and clicks inside her mouth, it´s a pretty thing to hear. It´s funny, when
she´s teaching me to say things, how much of the Icelandic language has
to do with learning new tricks of the tongue. She will say "Raise the back
of your tongue," for one word, or "move the tongue to the side and send
the sound along the side of it," for another. I tell you, if I never master
functional Icelandic, I will at least have a tongue that has learned a few
new dances! That can´t be all bad...

Bless, bless

DL

Wandering in 101

I went off by myself for a few hours yesterday while Disa visited her
friend, Anna. A brisk walk in light rain down Laugavegur, into the
heart of 101 Reykjavik with its narrow and very clean streets. There
may be a little crime here, but very little. I´ve seen one police vehicle
so far, and two smiling policemen on bicycles. If there are homeless
people, they are in hiding.

The economy here is very healthy. Unfortunately the kronur gives
the Canadian and U.S. dollars a kick in the pants. Some items cost
close to double what they would in Vancouver. For example, cds run
from 1700 to 3500 kronur; converted to Canadian dollars the prices
are roughly $32 to $65 per cd. This is why you will see customers
listening to the music before buying. I bought a beautiful 2cd set of
Icelandic choral music - new composers updating old texts for quartet
singing - for 2500k or $47 Cdn, almost a steal! Wages here are high
and for residents this keeps everything about even regarding the
comparative price of goods. It´s a bit of a shock at first for the visitor,
though you recoup some of your spending when you leave the country,
via tax rebate.

A cup of coffee is about $5 in a cafe. Books run in the $30 to $40 range,
and yet hardbound books are set at much the same price as paperbacks.
It´s in the supermarket that I lose my breath at times. Because much of
the produce is imported or grown in Iceland´s greenhouses, vegetables
can cost a lot. They are eaten regularly, but hold a precious place in the
meal. Some of the more common fruits and vegetables are almost twice
what you´d expect to pay back home, and an avocado, for instance, may
set you back about the same as a new hairdryer.

Gasoline is presently around $2.05 a litre, and yet Thordisa thinks nothing
of going for a scenic drive; it´s just part of life here in the north. The coping
skills of Icelanders - and their unwillingness to complain - are admirable.
Last night for dinner we had delicious Atlantic salmon with potatoes and
tomatoes, plus a good bottle of wine. Dessert was a Disa fruit salad steeped
in sherry, topped with skyr, the thick Icelandic yogurt which is an adored
local treat.

In the late evening, toward midnight - still light, but growing very windy -
I suggested a drive along the harbour road and a visit to the oldest ice cream
shop on the island. The ice cream here is so rich, an ecstasy. When we
reached the old lighthouse and got out of the car, we quickly realized how
cold it had gotten. The Atlantic wind can be awfully fierce, filled with icy
needles, and is a main reason you always dress for two seasons in Reykjavik.
We had a brief walk, refreshing, but went back to the car before our hair was
torn by the roots from our skulls.

Back at Disa´s apartment, I telephoned my son, Joness, back in Vancouver.
It was his 23rd birthday. He had the day off and the temperature was 25C
in Vancouver, so some buddies invited him to the beach for some sun and
wobbly pops. Disa joined me in singing to him, a bilingual duet on the old
standard, Happy Birthday. I love that young man, and being away for his
birthday leaves me a little sad, but then I am reminded how solidly he´s
supported this journey from the moment I began planning it.

At 12 Tonár, the best cd store, I talked to the fellow about stocking some of
my cds. Sounds like a go. I must decide on the selling price, haha. I´m laughing
because I never thought I´d see the day when one of my own cds would sell
for $32. At 12 Tonár, you are treated to a rich black coffee while you listen to
cds on headphones. A nice touch. In the downstairs of 12 Tonár there is a
coffee and magazine lounge - a few old couches - where the local musicians
seem to be perpetually holding court. I´d swear the same six guys who were
there this time were the same six who were telling tall tales last time I was
in town.

We´ve been invited to a party tomorrow night at Eva and Torfi´s, two Icelandic
friends who went to school in Seattle and Vancouver and were part of Disa´s
welcoming committee when she first came to Canada. It´s a music party, lots
of guitars and singers. A little Reykjavik guitar pull, ought to be fun. I will
let you know how it goes.

One other thing. They say takk here for "thanks," but there is another slightly
more formal and deeper way of thanking someone, Hafðu pökk fyrir allt og
allt. It means "Thank you for everything and everything." I saw it on a sign
in a cafe by the water. Disa explained it to me, and from her explanation and
my own sense of the Icelanders´mysterious and earthy two-fold consciousness
- above ground and below, conscious and subconscious - I take it to be a way
of thanking a person as well as their spirit. In other words, it is a way of
combining the here and now with always.

I am not the easiest person to be friends with, so I am grateful for the ongoing
kindness that I receive from those who are my friends. Being far away here,
my perspective is very clear and my heart full. Hafðu pökk fyrir allt og allt.
Thank you for everything and everything.

Bless bless,

DL