Nothing lost in translation in Ásgeir’s new album
Ásgeir Trausti Einarsson speaks in a barely-there whisper. "Right now, I’m pretty fried," says the Icelandic folk singer-songwriter about the effects of success. "We’ve been touring one and a half years. I’m from a tiny village where everyone knows everyone else. To visit all these huge cities — well, it takes a lot of getting used to."
Einarsson sits in the corner of a fashionable Dublin restaurant, gazing into space. He isn’t unfriendly, just distant in that Nordic way. "When I left home, to attend school in Reykjavik, it freaked me out that everybody was a stranger," he says. "For the first three years, I would walk back to my accommodation at lunch hour and play guitar in my room — simply so I didn’t have to talk to anyone. I must have walked three hours a day." He smiles. "And now I find myself going on stage in New York and London, in front of all these strangers. Our first concert abroad was in Seattle. It was like an out-of-body experience."
In Iceland, Einarsson, who records as Ásgeir, is a superstar. His debut album, In The Silence, is the biggest-selling in the country’s history (one in ten people owns a copy). He is repeating that feat internationally, critics hailing him as an heir to eclectic folkie, Bon Iver. Einarsson has no burning wish to be famous, but is curious to see where his music will take him. "My album came out in 2012 and, ever since, my life has been a dream," he says. "A few weeks after it was released, the record started to attract attention outside of Iceland. That rarely occurs. I’ve jumped into this, to see what happens. I don’t have a grand plan. I don’t have any plan at all, really."
Einarsson is not ambitious, but is determined. Even as a child, he was competitive. "Growing up, all I wanted to be was a javelin thrower," he says. "I taped a five-hour video off television of men throwing javelin. I would watch it over and over, and then run outside and throw javelin all evening."
An injury forced him to rethink. So he picked up a guitar and began to sing. He’s been singing ever since. "I started smoking and decided to live a rock’n’roll lifestyle," he says, smiling self-consciously. "I’m the sort of person who, when I want to do something, I commit to it 100%. I’m really focused, I guess."
You can see why his record label has high hopes. Ásgeir has an amazing voice — a falsetto, somewhere between Chris Martin and Jónsi Birgisson, of Sigur Ros. He is photogenic: he resembles Ronan Keating, of Boyzone. It’s a perfect formula. "I thought, ‘well, I’m never going to get this chance again’," he says. "It doesn’t happen to many musicians that they get this sort of buzz going. Everyone wants to help out. I’ve been telling myself I’ll get used to it."
He grew up in Laugarbakki, population 40. It is in the far north of Iceland, and can feel like the edge of the world even to its inhabitants. When the economic crisis rocked Iceland, nothing changed in Laugarbakki, because the boom had not brought any benefits.
"The peacefulness of the country is important to me," he says. "The big city vibe is not something I enjoy. Today, I live in Reykjavik. But in a suburb at the very edge of town — as close to nature as you can be."
Ásgeir has been criticised for translating his lyrics into English for the international release of In the Silence (the Icelandic version is far more haunting). His logic was straightforward: he wanted the music to speak to a wide audience. Besides, it isn’t as if he just fed the words into Google Translate. He had the help of songwriter John Grant, an American living in Iceland.
"It was great to meet someone who has toured and travelled the world," says Ásgeir. "Hearing his way of thinking — I definitely learned a lot from him. He helped with the translation and added his own extra elements."
Ásgeir and Grant are friends now, but Ásgeir says their first meeting was nerve-wracking. "I had never spoken English before," he says. "Of course, we learn English at school and it is all around us in pop music, and what have you. But John Grant was the first person I had actually tried to communicate in English with. I was so terrified. I’ll never forget it."
Ásgeir’s lyrics are by his father, a poet. Does it feel strange singing in English? "It was weird, at first, if only because I’d already been performing for a year. There wasn’t the same connection, the same feeling. You get used to it — it becomes more natural. Depending where I am in the world, I’ll sing in English or Icelandic. In America or the UK, it is English. If I’m in Europe, I will sing in Icelandic. It varies according to the audience and to how I feel. I always sing some Icelandic at least."
Ironically, when he began writing, he was reluctant to do so in English. He wanted to honour Iceland’s long oral tradition and so asked his father to help him compose in his native tongue.
"Singing in Icelandic is very different to singing in English," he says. "Something that sounds fine in English will sound very clunky in Icelandic. There is a long tradition of poetry in the country and you feel you have to honour that. "

