By Jónas Sen.

When I was a teenager, I had a friend who was deeply fascinated by witchcraft. I was interested too, but he had a far greater knowledge of the subject. On a few occasions, I witnessed him perform rituals. These were peculiar ceremonies—he used various symbols, often Icelandic runes, to connect with higher powers. Unusual music also played a role.

I was reminded of these scenes from my past at the concert in Silfurberg, Harpa, last Sunday evening. The pagan band Vévaki opened for Eivør Pálsdóttir. The atmosphere felt like a spell was being cast. Three figures stepped onto the stage—two bearded men and a woman who had a witch-like presence. These were Will Hunter, Sigurboði Grétarsson, and Hrafnhildur Inga Guðjónsdóttir. The men played primal drums, and one of them also played a bowed lyre reminiscent of the old Icelandic langspil. Hrafnhildur accompanied them with a bone shaker.

Not Your Typical Performance

This might sound a bit ridiculous, but it wasn’t. The singing was anything but ordinary. The trio chanted simple, repetitive melodic phrases as if summoning ancient gods. Underpinning it all was a dark, resonant drone provided by Gísli Gunnarsson, which tied everything together and amplified the atmosphere.

The grand, electronic hum, combined with the drumbeats and mystical singing, felt like some kind of spellwork. While the purpose of the ritual wasn’t clear, names like Frigg and Freyja could be heard faintly amidst the electronic sounds that somewhat obscured the lyrics. Regardless, it was an engaging and fitting prelude to Eivør’s performance.

Beatboxing Power

Eivør’s own sorcery was most evident in the enchanting song Trøllabundin, performed midway through the concert. The shamanic rhythm she created was irresistibly captivating, and she combined it with powerful and agile beatboxing. You didn’t need to be clairvoyant to see creatures from another dimension belly-dancing on stage. The song was so enthralling that the audience erupted in cheers.

The main focus of the concert was Eivør’s new album, Enn. The record can be described as cosmic in scope, featuring reflections on the vastness of the universe, Earth’s place within it, and the many dramas of human life. Eivør herself has referred to it as a “space opera,” and that’s not far off the mark.

One of the album’s defining features is its extensive use of vocal reverb. The effect is so pronounced that it feels like hearing someone sing in a massive underground cavern. While this can be a bit much at times, the concert struck a better balance by mixing songs from the new album with older material, where her voice sounded more natural. This contrast was both necessary and effective.

Complex and Exciting

The album is largely driven by piano, but the songwriting remains diverse and inventive. The arrangements are intricate and consistently engaging. I had already listened to the album on Spotify before the concert, but the live performance was far more impressive—as is often the case. After all, Spotify’s audio quality is generally nothing to write home about.

The band was phenomenal. It consisted of Mattias Kapnas, Per Ingvald Højgaard Petersen, and Mikael Blak. The drumming was sharp and vibrant, the piano soft yet compelling, the bass intriguing, and the keyboard work electrifying.

Eivør’s voice was simply extraordinary—what a range! Her highest notes soared to the rafters, almost as if she had inhaled helium. This isn’t meant as a joke; her singing was consistently powerful and beautiful across the entire vocal spectrum, always hitting the mark. It doesn’t get much better than that.

Verdict:

Eivør Pálsdóttir’s concert, along with the opening act, was phenomenal.

Eivør Pálsdóttir with band. Opening act: Vévaki.
Silfurberg, Harpa, Sunday, September 15