Ever since our trip to Copenhagen with Arto Saari to film The Copenhagen Project, I pay particular attention to things coming out of Denmark: Music. Politics. Theme parks. Models. Etc. And judging by the high volume of friends who have gone out of their way to text and call me about Iceage’s new album Plowing the Field’s of Love, it’s time we address the angst coming out of the state of Denmark.
I first heard about them in 2011 when they released the very loud and fast “New Brigade” album, and have been watching them evolve into what has now become long form frustration crawling through the dirt urged on by throttling instruments played at high volume while lead singer Elias Bender Rønnenfelt drools lyrics of frustration, sarcasm and fuck it — all in the key of a slur. And it works!
The album isn’t going to hit the spot in a large crowd of friends sipping celebratory IPA’s over the holidays, but it will hit the spot when you return home — alone and confused by the local news on your television and Twitter feed following complicated family time. This album will be there for you. And it will feel tired and full of energy at the same time. Similar to how you feel removing the cork on a bottle of wine. And I promise it will be then, alone late at night ready to decompress that the opening song “On my Fingers” will begin it’s slow roast of anger and pent up frustration. And then it will all begin making sense. And after Elias’ lyrics hit their stride and begin affecting the synapses in your brain over the next three songs will you realize how fucking loud and powerful and driving and intricate the drums and guitars have been the whole time.
Above (at the very top of this post) you’ll see the now infamous music video that basically throttled everyone with their new direction. And who would we be for not applauding them for pulling something so audacious off. With a catalog of loud heavy punk it’s a direction that is distinct but comes with sophistication and is no less noisy and loud and powerful. And that video. No wonder they consider themselves God’s favorite. Probably Jesus and Mary’s too. Makes you want to pour a dice-filled martini and toast the ridiculous Christmas lights being strung around town. And for more genius, look no further than the video for “Against the Moon.”
So as you fill your gut with eggnog and dodge embarrassing conversations over the Yule log, just remember, Plowing into the Field of Love will be waiting for you at home, ready to serenade you with bed time stories that slowly reveal how fucking ridiculous it all truly is.
So for now, we toast. Goodnight sweet prince. —Travis