from Saturday, January24th of the year2009.
So, I played a show the other day in Reykjavík in the middle of the night. I got a text message from my friend Haukur, who is a guitarist in a very loud punk band. The text read, “Hey! Do you want to play a show with us in a sweaty rock club on Friday?” Answer is: obviously yes. I said that I was going to play with my friend Una, who gave birth in November, and who is a wonderful violinist. I emailed Haukur and asked what time, roughly, he thought I would play, and his response is so wonderfully iced out:
Concert should start at around ten thirty/eleven, and I imagine you would take the stage at midninght/midnight-thirty/one AM
Do you have any preference?
Does Una maybe want to get home early so she can breastfeed her ÃžórÃ°ur?
It’s accommodating, insane, and child-friendly. For the record, I ended up playing at 12:30, so, he was pretty accurate. And she managed to breast-feed her son ÃžórÃ°ur beforehand, and turned up about four minutes before we went onstage. The band two before us was called “Agent Fresco,” which is a confusing name but they are, in fact, completely wonderful. I encourage everybody to listen to their song Eyes of a Cloud Catcher on their myspace. I am really feeling the range involved in the chorus ““ the vocalist is required to do this vertical leap of faith down a seventh, and then in the little response bit, a way-high C. Fancy. Seriously, go listen to it.