We sat in a pillow-filled cubby hole cut into the wall in a Reykjavik basement. The venue was called Jacobsen Downstairs, and it was an October Friday night, the third evening of Iceland Airwaves 2009. I was trying to understand what was happening in front of me, a man sitting at a table twisting some knobs on a piece of equipment that looked like something form a science lab, or perhaps a radio station engineering booth. I knew nothing about electronic music at the time1 and was having trouble really understanding the atmospheric sonic environment being woven by this magician. Wait, was that a bird chirping softly in the background? What is this??
My life trajectory was altered a bit over that long weekend. I’d been heavily into music in the 80s, mostly rock and metal, but became a more casual listener after that, having sold off all my records and most of my CDs. But during the bus ride to the airport on Monday after the festival, gliding through the barren landscape, rocks and lichen to our left and the Atlantic to our right, the three of us traveling together had already decided we were coming back again the following year. Which then extended another year… two years… three years… 13 years… I got a turntable and started buying records. I started a music blog. I put out an album of my own. I wouldn’t say music became all-consuming, but it certainly became one of the defining aspects of what it means to be me.
Oh, and the guy at the table? That was Beatmakin Troopa, aka Pan Thorarensen.
More than a decade passed before I met Pan in person at his newly-opened shop and performance space called Space Odyssey, then later in Seattle when he was touring as part of the musical-environmental documentary project Fyield. It was after that show that my wife and I decided to attend Pan’s experimental music festival in Reykjavik called Extreme Chill for the first time. It all comes full circle.
Last month Pan released a solo album under his own name called Ljóstillífun, and right from the sounds of gentle rain and far-off thunder in the opening seconds of “Hrafnaklukka” I knew it was going to be something special, the occasional guitar notes deepening the somber mood established by the weather and slow waves of the synths. The natural world is a theme in Ljóstillífun, arguably the main character. Pan’s field recordings are key elements in creating the environmental soundscape for each track, but it’s the musicianship that truly builds these microcosms, using sound to create the sensation of light, and movement, and even smell. The buzzing, short waves in “Kirtilaugnfró” give the impression of insects traveling through the morning light; the sad plucking on “Melasól” creating the sensation of autumn leaves separating from their trees and slowly falling to the ground; the droning of the earth’s own vibrations on a still, snowy night on “Lækjasef”. Are these precisely the scenes Pan was trying to create, or are they the visions his music conjures in my mind? I’m sure it’s much more the later than the former. But it doesn’t matter. Because what Pan is giving us is the gift of creation, the ability to use his art as a wellspring for our own emotional connection to nature, making every listener’s experience unique to them.
One of the enjoyable aspects of Ljóstillífun is how it changes when you listen actively versus passively. Passively it’s a lovely album to have on in the background as you go about your life, a soothing accompaniment to your day like a friend whispering a private joke in your ear. But when you sit down and truly listen it evolves, expands, dare I say explodes with richness and subtlety. There is so much nuance, so many sounds to be discovered, layer after lush layer to get lost in. It wasn’t until the first time I listened to it through headphones that I truly appreciated what Pan has created.
Ljóstillífun is available on all the streaming services, so you have no excuse to not go check it out. If you’d like to buy a digital copy I recommend doing so via Pan’s Bandcamp page HERE. If you want vinyl, then head over to U Know Me Records HERE and pick yourself up a copy on either black or green wax (there is also a Japanese version with obi, though you’ll have to hit the secondary market for that one). This one has a good shot at making my Top 5 list at year end.
- Many would say this is still true. ↩︎