[BadPanda035] Kira Kira – Drakula Darling
A couple of years ago I decided to catch her live show after listening her awesome album “Our Map To The Monster Olympics” (that I really suggest to everyone who loved múm music in their earlier years).
It was in the tiniest venue in Rome, on a rainy night and she copiously paid off the audience playing solo some cool music boxes attached to a pink wooden stick and a nylon string guitar: that night she gained me as a fan.
Kira Kira, Kristín Björk Kristjánsdóttir, is a founding member of Icelandic art collective Kitchen Motors. For the past 10 years she has tinkered with noises in bands such as Spúnk, Big band brútal, Stórsveit Sigríðar Níelsdóttur and as Kira Kira since autumn 1999 when she had a funny nightmare in Tokyo. She lists David Lynch and The Residents as influences and she has composed music for theatre, dance and movies and performed \ exhibited extensively in her home country, Iceland as well as around Europe.
Kira Kira either plays solo or with a cozy crew of 1-7 friends: Alex Somers (Jonsi & Alex, Riceboy Sleeps fame) on piano, glock and casio puppy. Eiríkur Orri Ólafsson on trumpet and keyboard. Samuli Kosminen on percussion (dingalee dang). Pétur Hallgrímsson on lapsteel (skriðgítar) and ukulele. Kári Hólmar Ragnarsson on trombone and noises. Hilmar Jensson on guitar. Magnús Helgason on super 8 projector. Kira herself sings and plays home made gadgets, laptop, guitar, glock, kalimba, melodica, music boxes and curious blinking toys.
Taking a particular interest in blurring the lines of visual and performing arts Kira has appeared in all kinds of curious venues; in church towers, gallery spaces, abandoned prisons, croatian breweries and various other curious places, creating lasting images of singing black holes, dueling smoke machines, kite symphonies and exploding cassette tapes across the globe.
Her last album, Our Map to the Monster Olympics is a twisting, sometimes terrifying, often glorious and touching kaleidoscope of a record. Swarms of fragmented voices mouth melodies through home made microphones while contact-mic’ed Kalimba’s fight for breath in seas of beautifully damaged technicolour, granulated shotgun beats fire from sniper positions in foreboding atmospheres- AND YET armies of glockenspiels, brass and casio’s remind us that everything will, in fact, be ok.
And here is Kristín’s Q&A:
Where do you live actually?
Nobody knows, really. I move around a lot. I guess you could say I’ve been living more or less out of a suitcase for the past couple of years. Touring, seeing the world. Checking in, checking out.
So much in fact, that the lawyer of the National Registry in Iceland sent me a nasty letter demanding explanations for these frequent flyaways from my motherland. I guess I’m under suspicion for traveling too much.
But at the moment I’m in Berlin.
What is the last thing you ate?
Addiction? I just picture people wanting to stop doing something and they can’t because they are possessed by it… I don’t have anything like that, although life would certainly be a lot less pleasant without love, coffee and music.
What do you collect?
Good times. They’re the only thing worth having. Anything else just gets too heavy when you need to move on.
“That the birds of worry and care fly above your head, this you cannot change. But that they build nests in your hair, this you can prevent.”
I don’t know where that comes from.
The Good, the Bad and the Ugly Theme by Ennio Morricone (Original 1966 version performed by the Unione Musicisti di Roma orchestra). My earliest musical experience is hearing this song slithering from the family tv set at 4 years old and being absolutely blown away. Ever since Morricone has been an inspiration.
My diary. It’s the one I open most often.
Pekka Kuusisto at Kom Ravintola in Helsinki 2007. He’s a whistling violin wonderchild with the most delightful stage presence.
Favourite place on earth?
I don’t have one. I just have favorite people and if they are around, any place on earth can become paradise. Just like the most amazing spot on earth can become hell if you’re in bad company.
Something you’re proud of?
My mother’s pancake making skills
Where would you wish to wake up tomorrow?
Some place I could call my own.