Where do I even start?
The documentary film Rokk Í Reykjavík explores the Icelandic punk music scene of 1982. It is, quite frankly, a gift – the fact that a marginalized scene populated by young outsiders living in a very insular, small society (Iceland’s population in 1982 was just a bit over 230,000 people) was documented in this way is nothing short of miraculous. And as an added bonus many of the performances were put out on a double-album, featuring 33 songs by 21 different artists. It’s a fantastic time capsule of an emerging scene. Perhaps the only thing I can compare it to Penelope Spheeris’ first two Decline of Western Civilization films and their respective soundtracks, but those films were somewhat limited by the sheer size of the United States – Spheeris captured the scenes happening in Los Angeles but not nationally, whereas Rokk Í Reykjavík comes much closer to being truly definitive.
But don’t take my word for it. I’m not an Icelander after all. What do the experts have to say? Well, the 2009 book 100 Bestu Plötur Íslanddssögunnar listed the soundtrack #32 in its list of the best 100 Icelandic albums of all time, the highest ranking compilation and I believe the second highest position by a soundtrack, even earning a four-page spread when most albums only got two. In his recently published Icelandic Pop: Then, Today, Tomorrow, Next Week (2025) noted Icelandic music writer and educator Arnar Eggert Thoroddsen described the film as “legendary” and “one of the most lauded films in Icelandic history.” Fellow music historian and punk rocker Dr. Gunni notes that “almost every active Icelandic group at the time appears in the documentary,” calling it “a real and valuable documentation of the era” in his 2013 book Blue Eyed Pop: The History of Popular Music in Iceland. Paul Sullivan gives the film and soundtrack an entire chapter in his 2003 book Waking Up In Iceland.1 The experts agree about both it’s importance and comprehensiveness.
In 2012 I was fortunate enough to track down a vinyl copy of Rokk Í Reykjavík, not at a local record store, but at Kolaportið, Reykjavik’s long-running flea market. Hidden within row after row of records by the Eagles and Doobie Brothers was a small section of Icelandic artists, and there it was. I probably tried to unsuccessfully hide my excitement as I handed over my króna and scurried away before anyone else could see what an amazing find I’d just scored.2 Since then I also picked up the 1993 CD release, a DVD of the film, and even have a replica of the movie poster that is framed and hanging above my stereo.
You may be wondering why I’m writing about Rokk Í Reykjavík today, especially since I covered it in my first iteration of Life in the Vinyl Lane all the way back in 2013. Well, that’s because it just got a beautiful vinyl reissue from Smekkleysa. While I normally have a rule against buying a second copy of the same album if I already have it on that format, I made an exception for Rokk Í Reykjavík. And let me tell you, it’s fantastic.
The reissue faithfully reproduces the external packaging from the gatefold sleeve to the photos. The inner sleeves are bright pink and provide credits for both the original and the the reissue, while the two discs are in delicious bubblegum-pink vinyl. It looks absolutely fantastic.
“Great,” you’re thinking, “but how does it sound?” I wondered about this myself, but any fears were dispelled right from the opening notes of Vonbrigði’s seminal “Ó Reykjavík”. I can’t even fathom a better choice to open the soundtrack. In fact the entire A side is unassailable – Egó’s “Sieg Heil”, Þeyr’s “Rúdólf”, Q4U’s “Creeps”, plus some Purrkur Pillnikk and Fræbbblarnir, closing out with the relentless “Where Are the Bodies” by Bodies… it’s about as good as a side can get, and the mixing and mastering are perfect.
I’ve always been enthralled with the early Icelandic punk bands. While a few of them sound traditionally punk, more often than not they include elements of new wave and even avant-garde. Thoroddsen offers an explanation for this in Icelandic Pop. “Because of the delayed arrival of punk to Iceland – post-punk was firmly established by that time in most other countries – the period was characterized by a weird combination of styles where almost all strands of punk/new wave music up to that time were squeezed into one compact package,” he writes. “Ramones-style punk-by-numbers, new wave inklings, 1970s-inspired metal and pub rock rubbed shoulders with New Romantics, post-punkers, hardcore groups and experimentalists.” That description is both concise and thorough. Given how fast the first wave of punk burned out it’s no wonder that the relatively slow trickle of music arriving to Iceland’s shores created a pool of foreign influences that, while shallow, was also wide.
At the end of the day, Rokk Í Reykjavík is simply a must-have. The repress just came out in November and my guess is not many copies have made it outside of Iceland yet. The only recommendation I can provide for acquiring a copy would be to go straight to the Smekkleysa website HERE, or sites of various other Icelandic sellers. It’ll set you back a few bucks with the shipping, but take my word for it – this one is a must-have.
- Alas the film only earns a single footnote in Tore Størvold’s Dissonant Landscapes: Music, Nature and the Performance of Iceland (2023). Perhaps just as interestingly not a single Icelandic band nor artist appears in the “POP-ROCK-BEAT” chapter of 1982s Music From Scandinavia, despite Iceland’s inclusion in a range of other genres.
↩︎ - I also improbably picked up a copy of Tappi Tíkarrass’ 1983 album Miranda. Tappi Tíkarrass is featured on Rokk Í Reykjavík, and their lead singer is prominently featured on the film poster. You may have heard of her – her name is Björk, and she was about 15-years-old during the filming. ↩︎