>Kría Brekkan, and Drunken Escapades on Coronation Street

>My flatmate went to see the Arctic Monkeys last week, when they played at the Enormo-dome in Manchester. He walked out of the door at 6pm and returned nine hours later, with a story that defied belief, sanity and most other parameters of human behaviour.

It involved a chance meeting with the band, before proceeding to accompany them tearing things up in a variety of places: backstage (natch), all of the city’s most exclusive bars, a couple of house parties and finally, the pièce de résistance – invading the set of the country’s biggest soap opera, and causing havoc on the fake cobbled streets.

Although sad to have missed such debauchery, the thrill of hearing that rock ‘n’ roll excess is still in abundance filled me with a warm glow.

This same cosy warmth is present in Kría Brekkan’s utterly strange, achingly beautiful songs. Skywinnowing, a deft, dreamy, gorgeous song, chimes with children’s voices, and pulses with the heartbeats of imaginary animals.


Kría Brekkan‘s music is almost non-music – a phrase that ought to have ears pricked in readiness – her records being woven from scraps of human sound, ethereal humming noises and deep guttural hums. Songs such as Uterus Water are carefully patched together to form music that few of us have heard before – choral, angelic, soft.

Bjork, Sigur Rós, Múm, and now Kría BrekkanIceland must be the only country in the world where such off-kilter music is considered the norm. In Kría Brekkan, this cold, remote country has another musical maverick. Wonderful.

Photography by Stefan Sheethouse and Bianca

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