Hraun

A couple of quotes from a radio review of I can't believe it's not happiness: (http://www.ruv.is/heim/vefir/poppland/plotur/plotudomur/store280/item158694/) by Andrea Jonsdottir, Local icelandic music guru and rock prophet.

"Svavar Knútur is very open and honest, but still very masculine. The band opens their hearts completely"
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"Arty but hearty"
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"Would have liked to see more Icelandic lyrics, but the English lyrics are exceptional, so it's all good"
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"This album went straight to my heart"
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"Like a course and rustic Lava rock, clad in a thick, comfortable, traditional icelandic Woolen Sweater"
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"I knew it was good, but it still surprised me."
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"Very melodic and sweet. Reminds me of Leonard Cohen and Crosby, Stills and Nash." - Icelandic National Radio (RUV) Channel 2

Towards the end of May, the Icelandic group Hraun (still pronounced similar to Rain) released their first CD, I Can't Believe It's Not Happiness, as far as I know, only in Iceland. If I worked for any record company in the US, I'd be at Mr Knutur's door with a contract, a pen and a lot of begging. The CD's title seems to be a take off on the margarine commercial and the fact that lead singer Svabbi is, in his words, "full of melancholy to spray over the earth and all its merry inhabitants." What could be better? The "most radiant drummer in Iceland" perhaps.

- http://varushka.blogspot.com/2007/06/hello-my-lovely.html

Hraun - possibly familiar to wider audiences after being finalists in a BBC World Service international battle of the bands last year - provided one of I Never Went South's biggest highlights, with a set that started with the band mixing Icelandic atmospherics with West Coast Americana and ended with them stripping down to the waste and screaming about lemon pie. - NME

Usually the first band on the bill is first for a reason but Hraun (the word translates as 'lava' in English) could have easily relegated headliners Bloc Party to a shifty pub down the road. Their album hasn't received much praise from the press over here but see them live and it's a whole different kettle of whale (sorry, fish) They have a flute player who wishes he was in Jethro Tull, a troll on keyboards, a hippy on bass and some others milling around making sounds that combine to make one of those really memorable festival moments - when everyone is smiling and the songs all seem like you've known them for years.

- Ben Murray
23. oct 2007 - www.virtualfestivals.com

Rarely as a reviewer will you give a new artist the time of day, let alone the benefit of the doubt - something usually reserved for close and drunken friends, or Nick Cave. Sometimes, though, something happens, momentarily freezing the cruel instinct to turn a tune off. Perhaps it was the sheer effrontery of it - daring to sing 'Oh my darling Clementine' in the first line of a song, and expecting to be taken seriously. Perhaps it was the curiousity, as outside of the Sugarcubes and Bjork my knowledge of Icelandic songwriters is limited (I never got round to Sigur Ros, o.k).

Either way, I thank my lucky stars, because these songs from Hraun, Icelandic folk troubadours and mood-swingers, are a thing of rare beauty. Clementine is fragile, humble and utterly captivating, thanks to singer Svavar Kn?s sweet Sam Beam inflected tones. The song waltzes gracefully between moods enchanting effortlessly, and has now become a firmly fixed favourite on the Three Monkeys turntable (albeit a virtual one).

Hraun means lava in Icelandic, apparently, and is thus apt to this slow-moving fiery and elemental music. While from Reykjavik, there's plenty of americana - of the best kind - on show here, to the point where you'll be absent mindedly following the haunting 'Astarsaga ur fjollunum' for minutes before realising you understand nothing!

The band have already gained critical praise from the NME (not that we care), and have won a BBC World Service 'Next Big Thing' competition, and based on the songs on display here, their next album 'two tears for my honey' should bring them deserved recognition far and wide

The band describe themselves as "not a band of spoiled brats, but human beings, marinated in the joys and pains of human existence". Based on the one live track included, So let us drink, human existence isn't the only thing they've been marinated in - a raucous upbeat tune that makes you itch to go and see one of their by-now legendary jamming sessions in the Cafe Rosenberg. A perfect band to party to, and to gently ease in the day after the night before.

Brilliant.

Phil Murphy - Three monkeys online