Away with the fairies: Dream Wife & Reykjavikurdætur live in London

14 March 2016, 16:30 | Written by

(Live)

(Reykjavíkurdætur) (Dream Wife)

The Republic of Iceland has a population comparable to Leicester (and perhaps an even more unforgiving climate) and yet it has consistently punched way above its weight on the music front. For decades, Bjork, Todmobile and mùm have enchanted audiences across the globe, and over recent years, the likes of Sóley Stefánsdótti and Vök have ensured the per-capita level of sonic brilliance has remained formidably high.

But it has to be said that Icelandic music is generally associated with a certain...sound. The kind of sound that has reviewers scattering words like "ethereal" and "bewitching" with liberal abandon; where fairies and waterfalls and glaciers are inevitably invoked. And let's be honest, these descriptors are often quite fitting. But there's more to the Reykjavik scene than acts that exist to score BBC nature documentaries, and tonight does an excellent job of showcasing two of the country's most intriguing up-and-coming bands that sound absolutely nothing like Sigur Ros.

First on were Reykjavikurdætur, an all-female rap collective consisting of a dozen-or-so members and a fuckton of attitude. Of all the local bands that played Iceland Airwaves last year, "the Daughers of Reykjavik" were the name that kept on coming up again and again when highlights were discussed, and it's not difficult to see why. Bringing a pointedly feminist bent to a genre often criticised for its misogyny, they're visceral, political but also thoroughly enjoyable - a group that critique slut-shaming and victim-blaming with both passion and humour. Each member of the collective was afforded their moment in the spotlight during their 40-minute set, and though some flows were delivered more confidently than others, the collective experience was an entirely positive and memorable one.

Dream Wife were a markedly different proposition. Indeed, strictly speaking they're not even an "Icelandic" act as such. Whilst lead singer and force behind the band Rakel Mjöll is an authentic citizen of the Land of Ice and Fire, the other two members are from Brighton (which, in fairness, is the closest equivalent this country has to Reykjavik). Named after a 1953 Cary Grant movie, their energetic grungy pop - or "poolside pop with a bite", to quote their PR- falls somewhere in-between Dilly Dally and Alvvays; charmingly rough-edged, and evocative of not a single frost-dusted landscape. Admittedly, Reykjavikurdætur were a tough act to follow - Dream Wife had quarter of the personnel for one thing - but they did a commendable job in wrapping up an evening that once again proved that long winter nights and a penchant for rotten shark's flesh are apparently conducive to great music, regardless of genre.