The Icelandic trio immediately descend a wave of expectation upon the shushed Pattern’s audience tonight following the successful release of their recent sophomore effort, Black Lights. Seldom have I seen a group demand such silence from the off, nevertheless the nature of their music demands such focus and immediately everyone seems to appreciate this fact. Black Lights was an album that lay forth the organic imagery of Iceland’s landscape but instead of resting upon its cultural heritage as their Silkidrangar LP did, it directed the sound through an electronic dance infused lens using English as the language for the first time. The trio, fronted by vocalist Jófríður Ákadóttir and clarinet player, Áslaug Brún Magnúsdótti, are clad in dark clothing laying forth their heathenish presence – there is something exceptionally cult-like about the trio and the way they work as a grouping. It is somewhat eerie looking at them as there is an intimidating Blair Witch Project undercurrent behind the whole concept. Something purposefully alienating.

“This song feels relevant to us now as the time of year is coming up, it is called ‘Sólhvörf’ and that translates to ‘solstice’”, says Ákadóttir. With Iceland’s relationship with summer solstice, it feels remarkably genuine to hear a song that strikes so close to their home. Newer material such as the title track, ‘Black Lights’ struggled in contrast, with music such as this when there is little cultural identity and the language barrier is removed you cannot help but feel it requires an extra aesthetic, something to allow it to become a little more engaging – without this, it just swam in an empty pool of minimalist beats and felt entirely deflated and punctured. With the likes of Fever Ray, Ulrich Schnauss and The Knife, there has always been an additional element, whether this is a visual attraction or use of stage props – Fever Ray made fantastic use of Ikea’s home range when touring – there has to be something to push it further. Without this, Samaris struggled and much of the set fell into the void of background music. The dim lights of Patterns and excessive taps on the smoke machine did little to suffice.

As the group delved into their Silkidrangar album throughout points of the set, their deep love for their country flourished and swelled and this to an extent is the major selling point of Samaris. The language barrier added to the isolation and absorbing nature of the set. Their cultural identity with their country is something that allowed for curiosity to an international audience but similarly suggested it gave their music a deeper level of meaning to themselves – this is truly something that materialised in their live show, giving their sound a sincere sense of focus.

The minimalist nature of the set grew attractive when it became transportive, ‘Tibrá’ and ‘Brennur Stjarna’ almost allowed for this. By almost, I mean the other aspect of the performance that destabilised the show somewhat was the lack of volume, it became hard to immerse yourself. The textures that whizzkid Þórður Kári Steinþórsson tried to put forward should have been instantly soothing, clouding your perception with the nebulous haze of fog. However, when audience voices are audible, discussing who’s turn it is at the bar or whether Iceland have equalised yet, you cannot help but wish the Euros and beer did not exist – or at least that is before realising it was the most un-British thought process you have ever had.

It is a crying shame that the set suffered for various reasons, their previous material in particular demonstrates something that is exceptionally fresh and innovative within the UK music scene. For a group to play in the UK and regularly delve into their own cultural history, juxtaposing notions of the poetic Icelandic past whilst simultaneously making use of a clarinet and stimulating vocal samples – there is something exceedingly innovative. You desperately, desperately wanted it to come together tonight. As crowd members fumbled for phones and stood chatting at the back, you got the sense that Samaris had lost the audience’s concentration completely.

The set had to be hypnotic, transportive and meditative, it had to be something that demanded your attention and was relentless in how it controlled you but unfortunately, it was as if you were served a slightly flat beer or an ice cream that had already melted. The food and drink similes can go on but they each outline the same overarching fact of disappointment. Everything was there, it just lacked the finesse that was to make it as special as it suggested and could have been. As a sluggish performance of ‘Wanted 2 Say’ brought the main set to a close, you could not help but think the only victory for Iceland tonight was gaining a point in their first international competition against Portugal.
Tom Churchill

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