EXPERIENCING ICELANDIC SUGARCUBES
BOSTON GLOBE (BG) - TUESDAY August 2, 1988
By: Jim Sullivan, Globe Staff
Edition: FIRST  Section: ARTS AND FILM  Page: 55
Word Count: 471

MEMO:
MUSIC REVIEW

      THE SUGARCUBES -- In concert at Axis, Friday night.

TEXT:
The  Sugarcubes: An Icelandic band in which all sorts of mystical, magical,
maniacal  and  messy  elements  collide  --  sometimes playfully, sometimes
artfully,  sometimes  angrily,  sometimes  for no apparent reason. A canvas
splashed  with  many  colors.  If  this  sounds like we're talking about an
interesting band without a clear focus, you're on the right track.

   The  Sugarcubes,  a  sextet  that made their Boston debut at Axis Friday
night,  sprinted  through all sorts of moods, melodies and attitudes during
their  hour-plus  set.  It  was  much  better  at the finish -- "Cowboy," a
countrified  "Coldsweat"  and  "Blue Eyed Pop" -- than it was at the onset,
but   that   may  have  more  to  do  with  acclimation  than  material  or
presentation.  Which  is  to say: It takes a while to learn the Sugarcubes'
musical  language.  At  first,  it seemed formless; later, it was easier to
plug into the pleasure.

  The  Sugarcubes,  fronted  by  female  singer  Bjork and male singer (and
occasional  trumpeter)  Einer,  blend  gurgling, flowing sounds with sharp,
harsh  punctuations.  Bjork  and  Einer  -- first names only, please -- are
aggressive, physical frontpersons, whether working solo or in tandem. Einer
seemed  angrier;  Bjork seemed more frivolous, though she played a mean air
rhythm guitar, pouted terrifically, and played the lunatic singer role with
ease.  If  the  band's sound doesn't have a focal point, their presentation
does,  and  it's her. She's the classic rock 'n' roll girl/woman -- pretty,
aloof,  breathy, ferocious, commanding. She's in control one moment, acting
out  a  tantrum  the  next.  One  is  reminded of early Kate Bush or Sinead
O'Connor (whom Bjork will soon record with).

  Notice  we  haven't  talked lyrics. Well, neither did the Sugarcubes. Not
much,  anyway.  They  sang  in  both  English  and Icelandic -- "We just do
whatever  it  feels like," said Einer, somewhat cryptically, after the set,
explaining  linguistic  choices  --  and  very little of it carried clearly
through the mix, save a lot of whoops and hollers. This left the listener a
trifle   bewildered.   "Something   about   'blood,'   "   answered  Boston
singer/pianist  Roger  Miller when asked, midset, if he could pick anything
out.  Later,  in  "Cowboy,"  it seemed Einer fiercely sang, "I am a talking
horse!" as he and Bjork pretended to ride toy horses. He seemed to mean it,
and  who's to argue? Note, though, the use of the word "seemed." There is a
lot  of  conjecture  here. One non-conjecture: On at least three occasions,
Einer  told  the  full house to "Have a nice day," obviously picking up and
parodying your basic, banal Americanism.

   The  Sugarcubes'  sound  was  more  raw, more frenetic than the songs on
"Life's  Too  Good,"  their debut LP -- less intriguing mood music and more
frontal  attack.  It's difficult to pinpoint where the Sugarcubes settle --
ferocity  or  frolicking? -- but the puzzle, or juxtaposition, is worth the
time.
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