Matthew Levinson

Crashing into Oslo

Published on 29/08/05
by matt

Teetering on the edge of a bright red Ikea lounge-chair on a Norwegian fjord, I’m hyping up for one of the best festival line-ups this side of All Tomorrow’s Parties. Sonic Youth are up in the mountains on retreat, the organisers are building a submerged bridge across the river so Polyphonic Spree can walk on water, and they keep telling us that Babyshambles are already in Norway and doing a ‘Middle of Nowhere’ tour from Bergen to Oslo, playing gigs wherever they stop.

Things didn’t start well. I crashed into Oslo after a nightmare trip from typhoon drenched Shanghai – three hours on the runway at Pudong aiport waiting for clearance, missed my connection at Copenhagen and was relieved to arrive in Oslo – and then my bags still hadn’t shown by 2am. Things picked up the next day, my bags and friends arrive, and we immediately set about starting over, diving into the pastel-est red light district you could imagine, where the town’s shadiest (i.e. not very shady) wobble by on heels.

We tried on some Norwegian sweaters (the kind with lots of snowflakes and other cute patterns), checked out Viking ships and hobbit houses covered in grass. But then it was time to get serious. Music. Seriously, months worth of great gigs smooshed into four days. We checked into national youth broadcaster P3’s sixties poured-concrete home to meet up with local DJ and presenter Kristin Winsents, who proves a great contact over the next few days. The psychotic interns laugh and then we’re off to a first night club night featuring almost 100 bands playing side-streets, cafes, clubs and restaurants. I spot Ramones-esque Beijing band Subs leaving and tail them to tiny NY-style bar Last Train. Singer Kang Mao bursts onto the stage, a five foot dervish on stage, totally nuts, her short black bob swinging around her head as she screams out her lyrics. On either side, two guys with big afros and bad arse black t-shirts play a heady mix of SST hardcore, rockabilly and heavy ‘70s rock.

The hotel’s filling up with rock stars, but we stuck with our own and got down to some solid music geekery with a handful of international journos. Oya’s the first festival I’ve been to that’s invited online journos – there were writers from Playlouder, Pitchfork, and Drowned in Sound.

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