Our Man in Iceland #1: Box
Editors Note: DiscoWorkout is pleased to introduce Scandinavian scribe Bobby Breidholt, purveyor of our brother-from-another-mother blog B-Town Hit Parade, as our newest guest writer. BB will be providing International Disco Reportage for us via our newest column, Our Man in Iceland. Welcome Bobby!
xx,
Baron von Luxxury is My Fake Name
On a cold summer eve on the Icelandic tundra, I picked up my puffin quill and herring ink (as one does) and started writing my Grand Premier guest post for DW. I figured that since this was my first post, I should bring something special. So I tossed out my ‘Recent Hits’ rolodex and went rummaging for some Icelandic music.
Ditching the obvious and Hypemachineable, I went for a tremendously obscure eighties gem, ‘Snjókoma’ (Snowfall) by Box. I have no idea who or what Box is, all I know is that this song was on a compilation from Geimsteinn (Space Stone), a small label based in Keflavík. So I can only assume Box came from there. The city of Keflavík is pretty much only known for two things: The airport and… well that’s it.
So I’ve always pictured some baggage handler with a secret music studio in the basement. A manly man who tosses luggage around all day and then goes home to his rack of synths to make emotional pop music about snowstorms and loneliness. “No one must know” he thinks, as he wipes a tear with the sleeve of his overall.
‘Snjókoma’ is kinda funky, kinda amateurish, definitely homemade. I guess you can dance to it… in a squirmy, fingersnappy 80’s kinda way. It’s mostly weird though, and I love it.
One day I’ll pull a Lomax, track this guy down and give him the hugs and hairspray he deserves.
So behold Box in all its strange, synthy glory.
MP3: “Snjókoma” – Box
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