Letting off the Happiness in Stankonia

In the past, I've been somewhat critical of the line-ups playing øyafest, Oslo's premier music festival (I'm not linking to it... go fish).

Of course, there were exceptions (2011 = Kanye, Fleet Foxes, Janelle Monáe, Explosions in the Sky, Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeroes :D:D:D:D), but, generally, there haven't been a cluster of acts close to getting me to drop the inordinate fee to attend.

This year was shaping up to be more of the same (Queens of the Stone Age, The National, Neutral Milk Hotel, Todd Terje...), until the mid-March announcement.

Outkast.

That Outkast.

ATLiens and Aquemini Outkast.  As I'm sure most people know, Outkast, who hasn't released a new album in 8 years, is touring world-wide(ish) to commemorate the 20th anniversary of their landmark debut, Southernplayalisticadillacmuzik.  Additionally, they're the third, most influential artistic entity on my life (The list: 5) Counting Crows; 4) Aldous Huxley; 3) Outkast; 2) Joseph Heller; 1) Oscar Wilde).

Sorry, Al... "Point Counter Point" was genius, but it isn't cooler than a Polar Bear's toenails

So, it was a must that I had to see them live (as I'd failed to do so during their hey-day for a myriad of reasons).  When the news of their initial tour was announced and it was confirmed that they'd only be playing festivals, I briefly dreamed that I'd get a chance to see them in Norway, but quickly laughed off the notion.

Why the hell would they come here?

Conversely, I started trying to combine a home trip with a close enough festival.  No dice.  I was set to return to the mid-atlantic in late July for my wedding (Oh yeah... Thanks!) and the only shows within an irrational, day drive were in June (Governor's Ball on my birthday, no less and Firefly).

I was bummed and figured it wasn't meant to be.

Alas, I was wrong.  Norway was right.  Or Outkast's management team saw an opportunity for silly lucrative paydays in Europe.  Whatever.  More dates were added and one happened to be Øyafestivalen.

They were booked for Thursday.

I received a day pass for Thursday as a birthday gift from the best sister-in-law on planet earth and I was set.

And then the day got even better.

One day, while looking over Øyafestivalen's craptastic, English site, I discovered that a new artist had been booked for their day.

Conor Oberst.

Now,  let me explain because I realize that name is a little bit more esoteric than Two Dope boyz in a Cadillac from the ATL.  Oberst is a lot of things, but one of them was the lead singer of a little outfit called Bright Eyes, the purveyors of indie rock/folk/emo/electronica.  Oberst/Bright Eyes have released a lot of albums, but, for me personally, their seven year run from 1998 (with the release of Letting Off the Happiness) to 2005 (concluding with the era-defining, I'm Wide Awake, It's Morning).

Like Outkast, he was another artistic entity that meant a lot to me (slightly ahead of Robert Cormier and behind Chris Rock).

So yeah.  I was pretty stoked.

It was pretty epic.

Conor Oberst mostly played music off his brand new album, because, that's what solo artist do when they embark on new, artistic avenues.  Which, I didn't mind because his new album was more in the vein of indie folk that I like and not in the vein of some of his other, creative endeavours.  It was full of all the great songwriting that caused a major magazine to invoke the "Next Bob Dylan" moniker and, seemingly, backward, he sounds better in-person than he does on record.

As for the rest of the performance, well... it was coldly professional.

See, a lifetime of concert-going has caused me to create a three-tier rating system of performances...

Tier I:  "I'm counting down the minutes of the minimum set length requirement"... These are artists that are either not enthused to be on-stage or are having an off-day and not able to "fight through it".  I often say their performance comes off listless or like they're on City 43 of a 65-city tour.  This category was most exemplified by Fleet Foxes in 2011 at Øyafest and The Killers

Tier II:  "I've done this before.  In fact, I've done this so much, I don't know how to do anything else"... While the artist puts on a great show, everything feels stale/overly rehearsed.  Down to the "speaking bits in-between" songs.  I remember when we went to see Fun. and, while Nate Reuss, definitely went Jeff Bebe, but he could've been in Hamburg or Houston.  "When the plane was landing here in Oslo.  I thought.  'Man, if I could live anywhere else, I'd choose here... in Oslo, man!'".  Which, while it's a nice sentiment, could be said about anywhere.  There's nothing that personalises why he'd choose Oslo.  But, it's enough.  People go to concerts/shows for a performance, not always for that personal connection, especially with pop music.  

This is where Conor Oberst fell.

He never took off his sunglasses.  He had the same routine for each song, wander over to another musician and play facing them.  Sing into the microphone while swaying slowly.  Finish the song.  Bow.  Take a long drink from one of his cups.  A short drink from the other.  A short sentence about the song.  Even his jumping and jamming riffs seemed pre-orchestrated.

Note.  This isn't a complaint.  Lord Knows that when I go to a show, I'm just hoping for a Tier II.  I think in order to become that big kind of band you need to string together your Tier II performances.

There's a reason why Mumford & Sons is bigger than Fleet Foxes.

It's just that, based on the nature of Conor Oberst's music, I figured he'd be more natural.  In fact, his only unscripted part of the show seemed to come toward the end when he blasted the organizers for not allowing his touring band their own set.  

What's a Tier III?

Well, that's what came next...

To kill the time before Outkast (Conor Oberst came on at 3:40, 'Kast wasn't due until 9:10), me and the wife went to see St. Lucia.

I've recently noted that the early-80s, soft rock/R&B/post-disco sound seems to be coming back with a vengeance and nowhere was it more evident than with Jean-Phillip Grobler, the South African-born Brooklynite who had only one speed.

Insane-jump-in-your-face-please-like-me

Well, alright then.

Afterwards, it was food (awful... let's move on) and time for Janelle Monáe.

I'll say this about the lady from Atlanta with the odd hairdo, she is the definitely of a Tier III.

Back in 2011, before she became a superstar here, she forced an indifferent crowd waiting around for the Edward Sharpe set to become her fans.  Some of it was expert choreography (dancing and getting the crowd to get low and then jump up) and part of it was just her sheer cult of personality.  She pushed notes and teased others.  Suggestive looks were thrown into the crowd and random people were pulled on stage.  

It was pretty intense.

This time around, with her Electric Lady album having furthered her mythology, the crowd was all packed for her.  I'd say around 5-6,000.  

We were near the front and all around us, people were singing and dancing along.  It was almost like a religious experience.  She was even more magnetic than the prior time and threw caution and adherence to Norwegian rules aside and crowd surfed to end her night.

I enjoyed the set, but my mind was firmly focused on what was to come.

No pictures from here on out will be clear as I: suck at taking pictures, was using an iPhone, being consistently jostled from people packing forward, and maybe had tears clouding my vision.

I forced my way to the front and was promptly abandoned by the wife.  It was probably for the best because she wasn't comfortable boxing out to get/hold on to spacing in a crowd.  I was ready.

Which was good because they were late.  20 minutes to be exact.

But, after the delay, the exploded on to the stage powering through the first, five songs on their set list slowly gaining steam with each one... "B.O.B", "ATLiens", "Gasoline Dreams", "Skew it on the Bar-B", and "Rosa Parks". 

Andre3000 made his intentions/feelings plainly known.  He prowled the stage with sunglasses and a white wig delivering his lyrics while balancing on one foot in like a Warrior III pose and dressed in all black with a t-shirt that said "Loners get Lonely Too" and an oversized sales tag sticking off him that simply read "Sold Out".  Well, alright then.

Conversely, Big Boi was... well, here's the picture:

Yeah.  He was dressed for the occasion complete with an Atlanta Falcon hat.  Though, as usual, his effervescent presence and delivery made up for his famously more recluse partner.  It was clear which of the two was still actively performing and releasing music.

As for their sound, one of my concerns going in to this based on previous reviews, was shockingly true to recordings that had been laid down more than a decade prior to the show.  It sounded and felt like I had always imagined it would.  

I think the majority of the crowd felt the same.

I didn't really look back into the crowd much for several reasons.  One, this was a once-in-a-lifetime moment and I wanted to take in as much of it as possible.  Two, in newspapers, on message boards and having talked to all the people around me made a clearly indelible mark on me that their catalog outside of "Hey Ya!", "Roses", and "Ms. Jackson" would be new to a lot of the attendees.  Three, I didn't want #2 to ruin #1, which would've happened if people around me weren't as equally in to what was happening on stage as myself.

But it was ok.

I rapped along, virtually word-for-word, for everyone.  Before the show, I was pretty sure I was the biggest, Outkast fan in Norway.  Now, afterwards and after reading this embarrassing review in one of the major newspapers here (To save you non-Norwegians from too much Google Translate, the writer compares the bass to "hardcore sex"...), I'm positive of it.

The people around me kept looking and asking how I knew all the words (well, this is Norway... I was also the only black person not on stage within the few hundred or so around me).  My volume must've started coming out because both Big Boi and Andre3000 stopped in front of my multiple times motioning me to be louder (or possibly shut up) and holding the mic out to me.  Even Sleepy Brown (who looks EXACTLY the same), he came out to do an abbreviated version of "Spottieottiedopalicious" along with a few other hooks,  showed me love, tapping his chest and pointing at me.

Their DJ was on point and mad props must go to the "hardcore sex metaphor enducing" sound team for Øyafestivalen for a truly great sound job.  Their background singers were mainly for decoration as I really only heard them during the outro to the final song ("International Players Anthem").

Though, it was a night to remember and I'm sure Outkast gained some new fans and/or got others to look deeper into their catalog.

I walked out to the sound of drunk, Norwegian singing "I know you would like to think your shit does not stink, but it smells like Puuuuuu-puuuuuuuuu"

Well, you can't blame them for trying.

ALT FOR NORGE

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St. Patrick's Day 2014

One of my favorite holidays is St. Patrick's Day.

It has nothing to do with the actual reasons for the holiday (which, thanks to some irish friends, I was wised up to in 2005), but, like many other Americans, the many newer ideas.

However, the day is still important.

While, in Ireland, it started as a dry, religious observance, throughout various US cities, the day is a way for people of Irish descent to show solidarity (the 19th and early 20th century weren't exactly good times for Irish immigrants to the US).  Plus, with almost four times the number of people of Irish ethnic descent in America than in Ireland, the culture meaning of 17th of March has evolved.

Which isn't necessarily a bad thing, just a difference.  One amplified for any American wanting to join in an American-style celebration abroad.

When I was a student in Belgium, I got together with a few friends and we threw our own party with the Irish students there.  It was a pretty easy concept to convey to attendees unfamiliar with the holiday.  Wear green.  Get Drunk.

However, in Norway, it's a little more difficult (obvious reason: Alcohol prices are much higher;  less discussed reason:  Cultural proclivity isn't a regular occurrence here).  But not impossible.

Two days ago, the Norwegian Irish Society held their annual, St. Patrick's Day parade.  With about 621 Irish citizens in Norway, I wasn't sure what to expect.

It was entertaining and different.

Unfortunately, my camera died about five minutes before the parade came pouring down Karl Johans Gate.

In most major cities in America, a St. Patrick's Day parade lasts about three to four hours with floats and various civic groups marching.  I often joke that it's not St. Patrick's Day until I see surly policemen and drunk, fat guys trying not to fall off the back of a flatbed.  Maybe even a fire truck for good measure.

In Oslo, this wasn't the case.

While Karl Johans Gate is typically "pedestrian only" (That didn't stop the VG car from zipping down) it is one of the busiest streets in the city.  This past Saturday, as usual, it was filled with people as the parade made its way down the cobbled walkway.

Leading the way were three policemen on horses clearing a path.

They were followed by two people with the above "Oslo St. Patrick's Day Association" banner, a guy holding a large, Norwegian flag, a woman holding a smaller, Irish flag, and a series of people holding various, Irish regional flags.  The grand marshal was waving to everyone as he walked amongst the group in, what I imagine, was a costume resembling the day's namesake.  They were followed by a drum and bagpipe ensemble which was immediately followed by what was a colourful combination of Irish-Norwegians, Irish immigrants, and random people who were trying to get across Karl Johans Gate/figure out what was going on/looking for their guide group.  The rear was brought up by a marching band.

The whole thing was over in 10 minutes.

The parade continued down to Universitetgata plass where a nice ceremony took place (though, healthy portions were in Norwegian because Oslo).  The highlight was the short speech by a high ranking Irish minister who flew in specifically for the celebration and to address the crowd.  His remarks seemed slightly confused, but energetic which would be the best way to summarize the day's events.

Outside of this, my two highlights were said high ranking Irish minister's car arriving somewhat behind the beginning of the ceremony and almost crashing into one of the police horses and a Orchestra group, who was attempting to perform a recital behind the National Theater, pretty much having their whole set crushed by the "celebration".  Hats off to whomever scheduled their musical ensemble on the day Oslo has one of its two parades.

Oh, afterwards, our social club went out drinking because, even when you're in a new country, some traditions must always be followed.

ALT FOR NORGE

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By:Larm 2014

Music is the closest we're ever going to get to speaking in pictures no matter how many emojis and Snapchats come along.

This is just an irrefutable fact of life.

But these pictures, alone, don't really mean anything without a deeper context.  Anyone with even a bit of talent can tell you a story, but it only matters if it helps you recognize your own.

It's the reason why, every year, countless acts like Ace of Base and Imagine Dragons (I couldn't help myself) cycle through the cultural spectrum, washing out some time shortly after their arrival.  While other bands can survive years, even decades (How this explains The Offspring is unclear).

That's not to say that pop music is without merit (I love many pop songs!  There are times one just wants to dance) or that it can't take on a deeper meaning, but that, in and of itself, isn't its inherent purpose.

Most of my life is sought seeking music that helps define how I view myself/life/memories/existence.

Which is a slightly pretentious way of saying that attending a musical festival can provide both experiences.

Last week, I attended By:Larm, a week-long mixture of conferences and concerts that's billed as the Nordic answer to South by Southwest.

Saturday, I found myself en route to Youngstorget, the epicentre of the scene.  Here's a retro running diary of the experience.

7:15 - Walking through the drizzling rain I had the sinking feeling that I should've probably gotten to the festival sooner

7:40 - Sure enough, upon arriving at the main entry, I'm instructed by a grinning, security guard that the two block long line that I was trying to avoid is, in fact, the line to turn my ticket into an all-access wristband

7:48 - To my (and mostly everyone's chagrin), the people looking to purchase wristbands are fast-tracked into a shorter queue (with an overhang to protect them from the rain!) while us pre-purchasers are left to wait

7:55 - I meet a group of girls who travelled all the way from Kristiansand to attend the festival and they share their whiskey and beer with me because music festival.

7:59 - I get my wristband.  The first act I want to see (First Aid Kit) starts in one minute at Senstrum Scene, about five minutes away :(

8:03 - My running was totally unnecessary as the Swedish sister duo hadn't come on yet.  The place was full, which felt even more packed as the upper gallery area was closed, and ready for the music.  However, this was the time for which the Nordic Music Prize was being presented.  I'd seen the words "Nordic Music Prize" on the schedule, but assumed it was part of the billing and that the breakthrough artists had won an award previously awarded.

They hadn't.

The award presentation was happening now.  It was one award and the presenter was already in mid-speech (being done in Norwegian because Swedes and Danes can mostly understand and no one cares about the Finnish).

8:10 - The award is handed to a motley crew of guys who look both confused and high.  The crowd applauds in a purely "Good job, now get the hell off the stage!" way.  First Aid Kit time!

8:11 - Apparently, there's more awards as another presenter saunters on stage.  The crowd is has moved from "unsettled anticipation" to "outright derision".  This guy, with a haircut that screams "BBC extra" and an outfit that's trying too hard to be anti-establishment and just looks cheap, better be funny or they'll devour him

8:15 - He's not funny.  Bad.  He's rambling and isn't speaking in Norwegian (broken english?).  Really Bad.  He's trying to start-up a powerpoint presentation and is experiencing technical difficulties.  A riot may break out.

8:24 - I'm outside and on my way to Revolver because a)  I didn't want to be a witness/involved in a melee caused by the deprivation of pop indie folk and b) One of the more talked about bands (Dråpe) was starting at 8:30 at a venue that was slightly larger than my apartment and I wanted to make sure I was in before they started.

8:27 - Just in and without any time to spare as they're already on stage and  finished their warm-ups.  I think I'll get a beer.  74 kroners/$12.33/9€!?!?  I'm sipping this very slowly.

8:29 - They start their set

8:31 - They're amazing

8:43 - Like, really, really amazing

8:50 - When you hear something that is amazing, it usually knocks you on your butt due to: its talent (think to the first time you heard a great diva's voice), its depth (this album!!!), or just being beyond anything you ever heard before that moment.

These are examples of life-changing music.

You judge other things by the standard they set.

However, there's another type of amazing that doesn't blow you away, but draws you in.  It's like a huge vacuum and it transports you into a world, the world the artist is creating, and it holds up a mirror where you can see your own memories even though they've already happened and this experience is presently happening.  Dråpe transplanted me back to the first, two summer vacations of my college years.  It was wonderful, and chilling, and sad all at the same time (bittersweet, I suppose).  It made me long for and miss memories that never occurred.

9:15 - Their set had ended about ten minutes earlier, but I was still buzzing.  The next group (Lint) was setting up, which mostly just consisted of the guitarists shuffling around on stage, awkwardly, and strumming a few chords on their guitars and the keyboardists shooting dirty looks to the engineer behind me at the back of the room.

9:18 - Now, alone on stage, the keyboardists is signalling what seems to be "turn my microphone up" (the engineer shares this sentiment with a person standing next to him who I assume is the band's personal sound man).  Knobs are turned, sliders slid, and lights flicker.  More dirty looks ensue

9:23 - After the previous cycle repeats itself numerous times with more frowning and head shaking, the engineer leaves the "booth" and goes up to the stage.  The personal sound guy makes a handful of minor tweaks  to the various sound modules in his steed.  On stage, I watch as the keyboardists and the engineer go through a litany of everything that could possibly be out of whack.  I hate to prejudge a group, but these dudes better be amazing with this guy acting like Scott Stapp.

9:31 - The rest of the group has come back out, except for the keyboardists because of course.

9:36 - The place is PACKED!!  Their set has just started.

9:41 - They're pretty good, but make me miss the late 90s post/alt rock.  I had the overwhelming desire to go home and listen to Clarity

9:53 - I didn't go home, but to Rockfeller to listen to Zhala who, it sounds like is finishing up as I'm in line to get in because every venue now has block long lines.

I ended the night listening to Ine Hoem at my original stop (Sentrum) because it still had space (which is a loose way to describe standing outside the main area and listening to music without seeing the stage).  Honestly, it might not have mattered where I was or who was on stage as my head was still ringing from Dråpe.

In fact, it still is.

ALT FOR NORGE

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Ylvis, Boxing, Omskjæring, Failure... Just another week in Norway

So... the shutdown is over.  Guess it's time to write another blog post...

Let's catch up on some of the headlines that have been in the news here since my last post.

Just the tip?

You won't believe how many pictures I saw that I can't unsee trying to find this... you're welcome

As I mentioned in my last post, Norway is under new management.  With a new leading party comes new policies and laws.  One of those being lobbied now is a ban on circumcision (to be fair, this has been in the mill for some time, but, with the new coalition consisting of ombudsman that champion the idea... the possibility is a lot more likely).

Male circumcision.  (As female circumcision is banned in most of the world)

For those of you who don't know, Americans can get wound up about this type of thing (granted, we get wound up about a lot of things).  I would strongly prefer for my son to be circumcised (so much so that I've been bringing this up at dinner parties since I found this out... I'm so popular) as, it seems, do a lot of Americans.  In fact, when an American city tried to defer the procedure until the young man being snipped could have an input in the matter, a city council quickly stepped in to prevent such a measure from ever passing.

Conversely, the movement for banning the circumcision for boys under their teenage years seems to be the majority sentiment.  Looks like all future children of mine will have a date with mohel.

Norway will not be going to Brazil... to play soccer

Despite having a pretty advantageous group (Switzerland, Iceland, Albania, Cyprus... Norway is actually second in population among the countries involved.  Which is pretty staggering odds considering that Norway ranks #25 in European Country population), the Norwegians finished a distant fourth in their UEFA World Cup qualifying group.  On the plus side, fellow Scandinavian country, Iceland, will get a chance to make it to their first World Cup.  The Norwegians will have to wait until 2018 to break a drought which will have reached 24 years.  Adding to the drama is that the long-time, beloved coach was forced out contrary to his, and a large percentage of the board's, wishes.

A Way to Make a Bus Trip in Oslo Extremely Awkward

If you're on a packed bus using your ipad as a large ipod and your headphones come unplugged and you hit play when this song is cued up

Holyfield can come to Norway now!  

Among the many odd things that I've uncovered here in Norway, this may be the most peculiar.  As I previously mentioned, the world's reigning, female welterweight champion is Norwegian despite the fact that there has been a professional ban on boxing for over a century.  Not anymore!  The new coalition has put an order in motion to strike down the ban which should appease the aforementioned, Evander Holyfield, who vowed never to step foot on Norwegian soil until the ban was revoked.  That's a stand for human rights!

Seriously... The Fox song isn't what Norwegian music is about

I never went gold off one song

Do you know what the worse thing about telling a good joke really well?  Many people are going to not realize it is, indeed, a joke.

Reading the article in the headline reminds me of this "Simpsons" episode where Homer creates a song and then goes from amused to excited to overwhelm to disgusted by it.  Which is a shame because, by all accounts, they seem to be two, goofy guys who just enjoy hanging out and making people laugh (which makes them like virtually every other guy in Generation Y).  Though, having a song that's top 10 on itunes is a good problem to have.  

If you're one of the millions that enjoyed their video, please make sure to check out their other, funnier songs.  My personal favorite is "Work it" (even if Veronica Flores would probably find it racist)

ALT FOR NORGE

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EuroVision and Sunshine

Above is Norway's entry for the 2013 Eurovision Song Contest held last Saturday.

(If you're asking yourself "What is Eurovision?" Here is a long answer, but, in short, it's a competition where many of the countries on the continent + a few, neighboring countries perform songs, one per country, and the citizens of all of Europe vote for the winner)

Even if this is confusing to you, there's only one thing you need to know.  Norway finished fourth.  They should have won.

Listen to the song.  It's epic (I think it sounds like a Bond song!).  It's moving (she's feeding you her love!).  It's well performed (even if this isn't the actual contest performance, it pretty much is identical).  Yet, it languished in a distant fourth place to the eventual winner (Denmark, whose song is aptly described as "Rihanna in Westeros"), Azerbaijan, and Ukraine.

Yes, in a European-wide song contest, they finished behind a country that's not in Europe.

At least they didn't finish behind this behemoth from Romania.

And that's all I can muster about Eurovision...  If you want a better, thought out summary, please refer to this blog.

OTHER, WEEKLY HIGHLIGHTS:

- As I stare at the third, straight day of chilly weather and rain, I just keep thinking about the days preceding those.  They were three, magical days of uninterrupted, 70+ F (22+ C) weather and it was amazing.  You'll be in my heart forever...

- My birthday is in two weeks and it was just announced that, on June 19th, Immortal Technique will be performing in Oslo... Take those two facts for what you will

- I, seriously, just listened to the entirety of the Tarzan song just now.  Wow.  It's not even my top-five, favorite, Disney song.  Here's the order of my list that it's in: 1) "A Whole New World" (Aladdin); 2) "Colors of the Wind" (Pocahontas); 3) "Circle of Life" (Lion King); 4) The Beauty and the Beast song... Tale as old as time?; 5) "Kiss the Girl" (The Little Mermaid)

uhmm... yeah,

ALT FOR NORGE

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Race, and other awkward moments, in Norway

Norway has been homogeneous for most of its history, save for the last fifty years when immigration has steadily increased.

For the most part, things run smoothly here and there is very little negative interactions.  However, as is the case virtually all over the planet, certain *ahem* stereotypes still exist.  Which leads to awkward moments...

For example, the other day I was taking the trykk and, as so often happens, it was packed and I was the only non-ethnic Norwegian in the section.  The overhead automated announcement, which usually just mumbles the next destination, does so and also issues a cryptic message to "be weary of pickpockets".

I know some of you readers will think I was imagining this, but about a dozen pairs of eyes immediately turned in my direction with suspicion.

I usually try to smile or pretend to be oblivious, but I'm not.

Here, however, is an interesting aside and difference from most of the world.  While the same situation would/does happen in every other corner of the globe, here in Norway the situation completely changes when one simple fact is introduced.

I start speaking English.

I can't tell you how many times I've been in stores, restaurants, and other settings in addition to public transport and by merely speaking my native tongue, I go from being just another dark skinned foreigner to an American.  For the most part, those that ignored me reach out and attempt to connect with me.  Frowns become smiles.  Looks of contempt become curious questions.  It is really an astounding transformation.

Though, don't get it twisted, I'm still an outsider.

Norwegians are very proud... Of their culture, country, and, secretly, themselves.  They want to know how I find their country because they know everything about mine and, naturally, find their homeland superior.  It's reassuring to have an outside person collaborate those thoughts.  Aldous Huxley once wrote "Philosophy is the finding of reason and proof what one naturally believes off instinct.

OTHER WEEKLY HIGHLIGHTS:

- Norway can be cost-prohibitive... It cost me 100 USD to obtain the following items: 6 trips on the public transportation, a frozen pizza, 3 liters (101 ounces... or 8.5 American beer cans) of beer, and a haircut.  My haircut is fresh, btw

- Russ season, like escobar season, has returned.  The kids are out in their red, blue, black, and green overalls.  The ID checks for beer have increased.

- I just found out that Iggy Azalea is white... that has nothing to do with anything, just thought that I should mention

ALT FOR NORGE

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Return of the Bieber and a Champion

Norway is a confusing place.

Statue from Vingeland Park

For as many similarities as there are to the states, there are that many differences.

But, when it comes to teen heartthrobs, there is no culture gap.  Which is a shame because Norway has produced such great pop music... ABBA, Miike Snow,  Ace of Base, First Aid Kit (wait... those are all Swedish?!?!  Oh.  Well, there's always A-HA).

Above is the scene from last year when Bieber blessed Oslo with his bangs.  As I informed you all, dear readers, it was a catastrophe.  The mayor hid in a retail store to avoid being trampled by hordes of Norwegian tweens chasing their idol.  Traffic was disrupted for hours.  Police were outnumbered and overrun (I swear, I think there was an hour or two of martial law declared).  It was pure chaos.

So how could the Biebs possibly top that?

He threw three, back-to-back-to-back concerts that created such a demand that they not only sold out in minutes, but causes school districts to re-arrange their testing dates.  Caught off-guard and slightly embarrassed, Oslo's finest vowed to take their revenge (ok... they didn't come off as menacing, but it was the general sentiment).

How did it go?

Well, it was interesting...

Things started off in favor of the Bieberization when his bodyguard instagrammed a picture of himself getting a haircut which lead to a lot of "likes", "favorites", and "retweets".  Additionally, the impromptu photo session lead to said barbershop being swamped with the pre-pubescent.   No word on whether the establishment has been able to air out the smell of Chanel Jr. and Lil' Dior Miss.  (On a sidenote, please check out the Team Swaggy bodyguard's twitter... https://twitter.com/KennyHamilton talk about taking yourself too seriously).

Anyway, things only got more hectic from there.  A day before the shows were to start, a poor, background dancer (a deacon in the Church of Bieber, but a celebrity to Bielibers), was accosted while going for a drink at a local convenience store.  At this point, with the concert about to kick-off, the men and women in light bluish-grey decided to step up their game.

Over 66,000 descended upon the 20,000ish capacity stadium.  The cops were ready, the ticket takers were sorta ready, Team Swaggy was ready.  And so it went...

Did the police crack down or did they catch Beauty and a beat?  I'd call it a draw.

While there were no elected officials whose safety and health were threatened by hormonal adolescents drawn to their obsession, there were numerous injuries and mild catastrophe reported.  Though, the official spokesman for the Kommune Koppers issued a statement that sounded more like they had withstood an invading army.

Which, is fair, seeing how, in the end, the chaos left one, poor Bieberian in a coma.

28-0, 6 KOs

So yeah... Bieber in Norway is no joke.

In other news, I would like to give a special kudos to Norwegian boxer, Cecilia Brækhus.  She beat Mia St. John, the former Super Welterweight champion, over the weekend by TKO.  With the victory, Brækhus retained her WBA, WBO, WPBF, and WBC welterweight titles.  At 28-0, she is one of the best, pound-for-pound fighters in the world.  A fact made even more remarkable due to the fact that Norway is one of a handful of countries with a ban on Professional Boxing.

She is also an accomplished kickboxer and has been dabbling in muay thai and may take her talents to the UFC.  Would definitely be a step up in competition (which, she hasn't gotten much of in her rampage through the boxing world) and probably an improvement in pay (the fights preceding hers were a bunch of slow, has beens/never was/never will be's slapping at each other for four rounds).  It will be interesting to see how that goes as professional mixed martial arts is also illegal here (though, there's an organization with a snazzy Facebook page working on fixing that).

Here is usually where I would write "Alt for Norge", but, in light of the violence and attempted harm going on back in America (it feels weird to watch from abroad... it's almost like its happening on another planet), I decided to switch up the message...

"We must all learn to live together as brothers or die together as fools" - Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

Alt for fred... Peace for all

Ritz Crackers... 'cause it's cold, son!

I wonder if my home owner's insurance covers against snow damage...

It snows in Norway.  A lot.

But I didn't write this entry to waste your time with information you already knew.

It's just... you don't realize how much "a lot" is until you're staring out a window on Saint Patrick's Day and there's 10 inches of the white stuff (fresh from a weekend onslaught) wishing you a "top o' the morning!"

But it's not just the snow, its cold, too.  How cold is it?  I've rarely worn a hat and gloves during the winter time for most of my life (I have a mother worn thin from 20+ winters of worry who can attest to this fact), but I almost refuse to step outside here unless my hat and gloves are on (in fact, I have several back-ups just in case I'm in a rush and can't find the primary).

As I'm writing this, its snowing!  To be clear, I'm not complaining, but "it takes some getting use to" is a vast understatement.

So.  What does that do to one's psyche?

It can cause depression (Which isn't just for us foreigners, its the reason why Norwegians take fish oil... Vitamin D is the cure!).

Though, more likely, it can cause what I call "want reallocation".  For example, the other day, I really wanted some mango sorbet (odd, right?).  Instead of venturing the eight blocks to the store that may have it (I'd say 50-50 shot), I went the block and a half to the store that really had no shot of having it and settled for Ritz crackers and Strawberry jam.

That's just what happens when cold is factored in the equation.  

Another example: We live within a three block radius of four, awful pizza places (I can't underscore how dreadful pizza can be here here) and about a twenty minute bus ride from an outstanding pizza place.  I will give you zero guesses on how many times we've gone to the good place since winter has taken hold because the answer is zero.

Norwegians will scoff at you and tell you its not cold, but they're lying.  They wear big coats and complain about the weather (I'm pretty sure "weather" is the #1 casual conversation topic).  I actually base my clothing decisions on how Norwegians dress.  Before going out, I'll watch people walking outside from the window.  If people have jackets unzipped, I just wear a hat and coat;  If they have jackets zipped and scarves, I wear hat and gloves; If I see women wearing hats and men walking briskly, I stay inside (because women NEVER wear hats here and no one EVER, EVER walks briskly... if I see that it must mean some "Day After Tomorrow"-ness is going down.  That's how people get bronchitis... No thank you).

Unfortunately, I don't have a choice as I'm now all out of Ritz crackers.

ALT FOR NORGE

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Friends amongst Killers

Hello, Oslo!!  It has been so long... But your boy is back.  It feels so good to be back!  Well, maybe not that good... but yeah, it was too long.

So... what have I missed?

So... nothing?

Good to know some things never change.

Well, for me, I returned with a beard... but better.  Good, because the Norwegian winter was acting all emo and keeping it cold here.  

Also, I made it back in time to go see The Killers at Telenor Arena!  

That's right... Space Age Norwegian Architecture.  Terror Dome in the back, Innocuous Store-front facade out front

The best, and worst, thing about Telenor Arena is that it's in the outskirts of Oslo in the Fornebu neighborhood.  The party doesn't have to worry about annoying the neighbors because there aren't any, but it also means there's only two ways to get there... a 20-30 minute bus or car ride from downtown Oslo (I guess helicopter would be the other one... where's the mambacopter when you need it?!?!?).

I pause here and have to thank Ruter for scrambling extra busses to ensure the to and from trips were only hellish (as opposed to the apocalypse that would've resulted if Daniel Snyder had been given the chance to host the evening).  So yeah... appreciate it.  The girl who used me as a human shield to avoid a creeper, unappreciated it.

Back to the concert.  Telenor was, originally, constructed to host soccer football games (while its indoor, the field is a full-size soccer game... yes, this is what happens when your country is covered in snow nine months out of the year) and so, there was a large mass of people gathered on the ground level in front of the stage.  Fortunately, I was in the seats that ringed the field and stage.

(Here's where I'd include one of the dozen or so photos that were taken, but the two ladies I was with haven't sent me the pictures yet)

There was a guy in a seat two rows in front of us with his laptop live blogging because he's more about this life than I am.

The show started with all the lights on and little fanfare... I think every band has a song that they don't really enjoy playing anymore, but they have to because it's a staple of their discography (I caught this vibe with "We are Young" at the Fun. show).  I bring this up because, again, all the lights were on and there was no warning, The Killers launched into "Mr. Brightside"... like, a really fast version of it.

Most of the crowd was in a "wait... what?" mode.

Things returned to normal speed after that and the show was decent.  The problems you might imagine were there (A place built for soccer football doesn't have the best acoustics), but I was still dancing and singing along for most of the show (yeah, there's like two albums of there's I'm going to pretend were never released... I'll let you guess which ones).  I nearly lost my voice screaming along to "All these things that I have done".  Good times.

Otherwise, it's back to the program, writing this blog, and living the dream in Norway

Alt for Norge

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Øl festen

One of the things I enjoy about Norway (there are oh so many amusing things in the land of the midnight sun...) is that Norwegians are a fairly celebratory bunch.  There are so many random festivals and events happening that there is always something to do (or, rather, there's always random tourist stumbling around town).  Which brings us to last Friday... I got a SMS (which is such a rare occurrence that, at first, I thought my phone battery died) from a friend asking if I wanted to go to a Beer Festival.  Of course Oslo has a beer festival (actually they have two)... 

How could I not go?  Purely for you, dear readers, I had to indulge in this cultural experience (times like this reminds me why I don't invite my older, pious relatives to read my blog...)

The event was held in Oslo's new Mathallen (Meal Hall... It's like an open air market) which was having it's Grand Opening the following weekend.  Despite it being prior to the "opening" every booth and cranny was open for business.  In the middle was a roped off, rectangular area that served as the "beer festival area" and, to enforce this point, there was a wooden, square area inside that had an assortment of bartenders and refrigerators.  

Here is the listing of available beverages:

The Best Beer: Ægir Harvest (though, my girlfriend will tell you its Nøgne Ø's Pumpkin Ale

The Worst Beer: Aas Bock (it wasn't bad... I just don't like sweet beer.  Not fruity, just the hops made it sweet)

The "Why do they have that beer here?!?!?" Beer: Duff (yes, as in that Duff)

The weirdest quirk to this festival was the way in which the beer was purchase.  You were given a choice of a sample size (like two shots), a glass for those offerings on draft (about 12 ounces/ 0,3 liters), or the whole bottle, which is pretty cool.  However, as you can see above, those aren't prices next to them.  In order to purchase beer, you had to first purchase tokens from a cashier.  There were only two cashiers working at a time.  You can imagine the back-ups.  

It was all good otherwise.  The staff was friendly.

And this guy played the Tuba!

Why was he playing a Tuba?!?!?  I don't know.  This is Norway.

Oh, and I had the greatest Duck Sandwich (confit de canard with dijon mustard) ever... oh man.  The best ever... That has nothing to do with anything, just thought that I should share.

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Alt for Norge