Moldin.

Everyday Iceland picture courtesy Lúc

Incredible.

Yes, I feel like I emit that outwardly emotional word often after Icelandic performances, however, it's just about right. I just (randomly, as is best) käisin (mmmrr.. went.. to and hung out in) the concert (make that word interactive feeling) of (loooong sentence) Ólöf Arnalds in a small artsy drinking corner (Juuksur) here in Tallinn. Strange saying that is is one of the best shows that I have been in attendence of, though in its subtle ways it fufilled this spot. The simplicity of it all rained down beautifully (literally.. concrete bits holding up the medieval cellar ceiling were falling into hairs and drinks). After randomly shoving a floating copy of Postimees into my kott following my shift and sitting with said ajaleht and unsaid pint of beer, I saw an aricle about the performance with a special 'happening tonight' sentence attached. While calling a film-type acquaintance living in the city, I was questioned about the show, and sidewise invited along with a pair of familiar (though yet-unenjoyed) British/Scottish (new) friends.

Following conniving myself and my slightly dismembered ISIC (not ISIK, for eesti readers.. haven't been that drunk yet) through the sooduspileti hind (discount (student) ticket price), we grabbed some close spots under the contemplatively stable ceiling and took forth some drinks.

So many factors went into the show that made it the beauty of what the title 'folk' so incessently perverts - a good, in-touch musical and vocal show. Ólöf is Icelandic and carries that sense of humour, which inherently helps. Yes, humidity caused both guitars and her armadillo-ukelailie (I shit you not.. and to quote, 'It's as well of an afterlife as I can imagine') to call for constant, often mid-song tuning to commence. Yes, some assholes in the back of the room carried on laughing and chortling through the first quiet part of the show and the later, settled-in part where the bar in the connecting room started filling up and accompanying. The natural character of the music, the presentation and conversation, and the performance all weaved together, and most importantly kept it alive. From Icelandic folk through acoustic mountains (complete with her detailing mid-song where, on the album, the strings come in and then the brass band and this and that!.. for another awkwardy fantastic quote, "..and even a whole choral section comes in now.. not as beautiful, of course, as the Tallinn Choir, though.. a great group of happy people singing..") through English sea-songs and American West saloon-ballads and 1950's Swedish songs of sea-side conversations on love and loss, a storytelling and liveable experience emerged.

Complete with snowstorm following, it is a great set of moments hinganud sisse (breathing in). Music for an open road, feeling the warmth of another resting their head upon your arm.

More on the already longing glow of thus around and unspoken possibilities of possibility in phrases soon to come.

Вперёд, edasi..