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Vice Blog

HAVING NO FUN IN SWEDEN

Having the No Fun Fest in Sweden after six years of No Fun in New York was kind of like going to Sea World in San Antonio and then going to Sea World in San Diego. There is a better Shamu in San Antonio, but the dolphins are happier in San Diego.

Having the

No Fun Fest

in Sweden after six years of No Fun in New York was kind of like going to Sea World in San Antonio and then going to Sea World in San Diego. There is a better Shamu in San Antonio, but the dolphins are happier in San Diego. Seeing the bands in another setting wasn't that big of a change from the norm, but the bands were super excited to be there, and some of the Swedish kids who have never seen, say, Wolf Eyes or Emeralds before, were beside themselves. One of them came up to Mark McGuire and gushed. But who's to say that doesn't happen in Brooklyn – for either American or European bands? If the gap that needed to be bridged was publicity for No Fun Productions, or a kooky trip for some bands, then the festival was a success.

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For once it wasn't the Americans whining but the Swedes, who complained about an "unequal" amount of Americans in the festival. All the Americans were just like, "Y'all have awesome buildings in Stockholm."

One man at the supermarket said he couldn't afford the tickets because of all the Americans who came to see their own bands play here. Then he stared at me for quite a while and I told him he was really missing out.

The festival was held at

Fylkingen

, a society and concert hall that has been dedicated to experimental music since the 1950s, and played a big part in the construction of the the Swedish National Electronic Music Foundation (think awesome studios filled with super cool instruments all for electronic music lovers to fondle to their heart's content). Because Fylkingen's mission is to bridge the experimental music gap between Sweden and the rest of the world the way Shirley Temple bridges old women and pedophiles, it seemed a perfect place to don Europe's first No Fun Fest. Daniel, the guy allegedly in charge of Fylkingen Records, gave me a brief overview of the place before telling me that he has Asperger's. He doesn't like his photo taken.

Because of all this "bridging the gap" talk that was going on, I expected to see some killer European bands telling the US what was up, but most of the time I found myself waiting patiently through their sets to get to the American ones. When US newbies like

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Oneohtrix Point Never

did their thing onstage everyone was like, "Oh yeah, Americans are here because we never get to see them in Europe and they just blew my mind." "Russian Mind" by Oneohtrix (on

Zones Without People

) is downright mathematical, in an

Unsolved Mysteries

kind of way.

When Swedish new kids like

Ectoplasm Girls

took the stage during the opening party, they were met with a little more weariness, or for lack of a better word anonymity. Every time I asked a kid from America, "How'd you like Ectoplasm Girls?" I always got, "Who?" which was disappointing because how are these "gaps" supposed to be "bridged" if half of the gap doesn't do their homework and go out to see newer groups? The relatively new Swedish band Ectoplasm Girls is made up of two sisters – the leggy brunette with fat eyeliner (Tanya), and the smart one (Nadine) – who go onstage with their little Mac books and a microphone and make not-too-bad music. If some dude went up there with Pro Tools, the music might be made fun of. In this case, when Tanya rubs her collection of cross necklaces into the microphone, it's only mildly irritating. The rest is decent. They communicate through little whispers into the other's ear, most likely Tanya asking what all the buttons mean and Nadine telling her what to do next. Nadine makes

pretty cool zines

. Instead of attending the rest of the nights, she organized a smaller little noise festival on the other side of town with music that she thought was cool. I tried calling her the next day to see what it was all about, but she stood me up.

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The veteran groups like

Putrifier

and

Sewer Election

were more worth it. Putrifier has been playing music like this since before I was born, but recently he's begun to shed his pseudonym whenever he's sober and plays under his real name. The festival was not a Mark Durgan showing though, and Putrifier played some drunken gentleman music. It was like – you know the crazy men who sit at the chess tables in the park? You don't know if they're gonna scrape you with a rusty piece of tin shingle or quote Plato if you approach them? And then when you do, you find out he's friends with your uncle that was in jail so every now and then when you're buzzed you stop by the chess table to see if he's still alive? That was Putrifier's set. It was like a great rambling story that had no point but you didn't want it to end. Sewer Election (pictured above) shoved a mic down his throat until he gagged for most of his set. Everyone cheered.

While Sewer election was choking himself, No Fun Acid (Carlos Giffoni's performance name) was busy making minimal industrial dance music. It's his thing now. Dance music. And people danced! Even if it was a drunk Swedish couple, he reached his goal.