Wyndham Wallace returns for his third bite at the ByLarm cherry…
Ah, ByLarm, you filthy hound! Every year you seduce me with the promise of hot new Scandinavian talent, music the likes of which I have never heard. Every year I put on my best new threads, pack my wallet with banknotes and let you embrace me like a lost lover. And every year you send me home with my new clothes tattered, my wallet thinner than Amy Winehouse’s arms and a suitcase weighed down with music that will take me weeks to explore.
Those nights we spent together will always haunt my dreams. How can I put Lay Low’s heartbreaking laments behind me? Why did you let Rockettothesky slip through my fingers after she’d whispered sweet nothings in my ear? How can I ever forget the way you made me laugh by sending Datarock on stage dressed as tracksuited members of The Monkees? Will things ever seem the same now that Serena Maneesh have massaged and beaten me, often at the same time? And what would my life have been like if I’d not known that Hanne Hukkelberg took a bicycle on stage with her?
I’ll always treasure the memories of those days we spent sliding through the streets of Tromso and Trondheim the last two years, cities for which we invented secret names. Do you remember how Tromso, with its sheet-iced streets, became “The City Where Everyone Walks Funny”, and Trondheim, with its three feet snowdrifts, became “Another City Where Everyone Walks Funny”? Picture us as we tripped from venue to venue, serenaded by strangers whose avant-garde electronica, country-tinged rock or gentle harmonies made the stars shine just that little brighter. Of course there were the darkened corners where hairy men grunted, bearded men roared and the honking of brass horns caused us to grip one another tightly. But even we, the softest and gentlest of souls, couldn’t deny the fire burning in their eyes.
You were so generous, too, sharing your friends with me in speed meetings, always offering me the opportunity to network whilst ensuring I had a simple exit strategy. You opened doors for me and you showed me new ways of looking at life. You introduced me to experiences I might never have even imagined.
And now, ByLarm, you bring me to Oslo. After two years in the Arctic wilderness we bite the big one together. Previously you took me husky sledging in the Tromso countryside. You rolled me in the snow beside an outdoor hot tub beneath the stars. You introduced me to the pleasures of the yoik – Adjagas’ tender melodies will stay with me ‘til I die. You swept me off my feet in the depths of an old Nazi U-Boat factory all dressed up in lights. You fed me reindeer stew, and fish so fresh its nerves were still twitching on the plate. And you poured Karsk – that brutal but unforgettable mixture of coffee and moonshine – down my throat until I found my inner Viking.
What can you possibly have for me here? What surprises lie in wait? Can we assume to find the same level of intimacy? Will we find our love threatened by the temptations of the big city, the evil and immoral lures of mainstream culture? Or will you once again entice me into some darkened room to reveal hidden treasures so far unrecognised by mankind? Will you nonchalantly leave me alone with someone whose talents leave me tingling? Will you tease me, surprise me and inspire me yet again?
ByLarm, this is why I love you. I never know what you will do next. You’re always one step ahead, wherever you are. I love you, I love your friends, I love your habits. I’d probably still love you if you put a Coca Cola logo on your chest, a MacDonalds baseball cap on your head, and called yourself North By North Pole (though I’d much rather you didn’t).
You had me at hei...
No comments:
Post a Comment