Kiasmos: "Walled"

So Iceland’s gone to sleep, has it? The country’s economy turned to meltwater in November and everything above sea level went under? Everything except Með suð í eyrum við spilum endalaust? What rot. It’s not just the island’s white volcanoes and ass-cracks that are keeping it in heat and excitement—despite the death-of-all-the-national-banking-sector thing, the music scene pulses on with conviction. And when I say “music scene” I don’t necessarily mean “Sigur Rós” (you’ll find them in Hollywood these days anyway)—I mean the country’s hidden techno pioneers who fight hard to be heard over the post-rock. Once such pioneer is Ólafur Arnalds, whose new Kiasmos split with England’s Rival Consoles proves you don’t need to keep snowmen to be cold. Of the three pieces Arnalds contributed to the 12”, it’s “Walled” that stands tallest: the flitting steel drums against the crisp granite techno fuse like the cast of Cool Runnings. The snappy cymbals and woofer-bait beat light up things wriggling against brick, and before the six minutes are up, you’re unsure whether you want to dance, chill, wrap up, or cool off. Iceland lives, and if the state of the króna is really so dire that the flights become cheaper by the hour, it’s worth informing the Arrivals clerk that they’re potentially sitting on a new anthem. One that takes you away from the hotels and into some hydroelectric caves.