ATP Iceland's opening line-up is an absolute stormer of music

ATP's Icelandic adventure continued last weekend with an ice cold line-up in one of the coolest countries in the world.

Bathed in twenty-four hour daylight, the festival site is five minutes in a taxi from Keflavik airport and approximately an hour from Reykjavik city centre.

A variety of accommodation was available including camping (the economic choice in an expensive country) in a small secure area five minutes walk away from the main venues or accommodation in a variety of hostels and guest houses in close proximity. A large number of people stayed in Reykjavik itself and buses ran between the festival site and the main bus station during the day and into the evening.

Asbru – the small town in which ATP was hosted – is an odd place. An ex-NATO base, the surrounding area is a mix of abandoned and inhabited apartments (former US Forces accommodation) in amongst large grassed areas, occasional businesses including a gym (useful for shower facilities for the campers) and a much visited pizza restaurant called Landbest. The bonus of Landbest is that they do incredibly good breakfast sandwiches and also serve free coffee on a morning. Although pretty sterile and chain-restauranty, it was a great place to sit and eat reasonably priced food in a comfortable environment. Off in the distance, beyond the swathes of blue flowers, are the hills of the Reykjanes peninsula; the odd plume of volcanic steam erupting from the lava fields was wonderful to behold.

The main venue with the more well known artists, outside of Iceland, is the Atlantic Studios building. A converted aeroplane hanger, from the cold war days, seeming currently used as a TV and film studio. It looks uninspiring from the outside but inside, the stage-lighting is atmospheric and wonderful and a huge space with great acoustics that serves the bands well.

The other venue is the Andrews Theatre – hosting the Bedroom Community stage, with mainly Icelandic artists with the odd foreign band thrown into the mix.

Wi-Fi access is free across the venues which required a check-in via Facebook to use.

Across the road from the theatre is the Keilur Cinema which hosts a film programme put together by Mogwai and to celebrate that bands 20th anniversary.

Through the wire fence into Atlantic Studios, is a small array of street food vendor vans. Ranging from Lobster baguettes to noodles to burgers and fish n chips, there's enough variety to keep you going at relatively reasonable prices for Iceland. Most priced similarly for what they were each offering – it was approximately £7 for a standard option.

Drink in the venue was priced at 1000ISK (£5) for a can of beer. Less for soft drinks. Not over the top for Icelanders and the influx of foreigners attending.

Musically, Thursday is an absolute stormer. Taking to the stage early before too many people had shown up was Stafraenn Hakon. Although not in any way a household name in the UK, they're a few albums down in Iceland and their driving, poppy post-rock soon has the crowd moving inside to get a better look. From the gentle opening numbers where you were unsure if it was still sound-check into the bombastic swell of their finale, they managed to turn a lot of heads. Definitely worth watching out for if you see them playing near you.

Chelsea Wolfe comes next and the crowd quickly gains in number. One of the up and coming stars on the scene, her bass-driven gothic shtick is on trend at the moment and the sublime vocal delivery with moody backlit stage presence is enthralling, even if kinda hard to see. The darkness draws you in and the delivery is flawless. Such is the quality of the first day's programming that on any other day she could have easily made a higher billing but as it is, her soundscape layered moods and sobre performance as a great base for the performance of Deafheaven that follows.

George Clarke storms around the stage like a man possessed as the rest of the Deafheaven are statuesque around him. Wave after wave of complete aural assault juxtaposed with an underlying melody and emotion. What is incredible is how this band has been taken to the hearts of indie kids. If they were wearing corpse paint and had a name written in KVLT typography, they'd be laughed out of town by the too-cool crowd but they don't and they bring a passion and outright guttaral brutality that won't be bettered all weekend. Of course, a nod to the unholy roots is made by way of guitarist Kerry McCoy in his Behemoth shirt, riffing like a bastard and daring you to call him a geek. 'Dreamhouse' is heart-rendingly beautiful with its stop/start outro section layering riffs into shoegazey harmonies.Yeah a few people leave because the screaming hurts their ears but fuck 'em. This isn't meant for them. It's for the believers – and there are a lot of them here. It's raining outside and fittingly, in the land of Vikings, they finish with instruments and arms aloft in full-on battle salute. Amazing stuff.

After this, the comedown of sorts is dub-maestro The Bug. On-stage on his own, at about 6pm, it doesn't seem quite right. The party has barely started and this set would probably be more suited to around midnight. Massive sample-laden grooves emerge from a sea of swirling mist and red-lights that, in a club in Brixton, would be the best thing ever for the stoned and the reckless but here it just nods along. Really good in its place but sadly today, despite all the appearance of an illegal warehouse rave, isn't that place.

But, again, the programming sort of works. The calm before the storm. As the DJ starts to play and the S1W dancers march and drill-boogie themselves to the front of the stage, everyone knows what time it is. It's time for Public Enemy and the intimidating figure of Chuck D seems to dwarf everything around him as he enters stage right. His booming baritone is authoritarian and commanding. And then, just so you definitely know the time, here comes Flava Flav. Yeaaaaah booooooooooy!

How old are PE now? In their fifties? The energy shown is actually unbelievable. When you see teenage indie bands standing like trees wimping over their guitars and then compare to a couple of grandads giving it this much vigour, you sort of think that maybe getting some cod-liver oil tablets down you wouldn't be a bad idea.

Ever the clown, Flava admits as much, mentioning his 8th grandchild recently born. As Chuck stalks menacingly, Flava slaps hands with the crowd, playing to the photographers in the pit and generally just having a great old time.

As 'Don't Believe the Hype' blasts out, the hall is packed. Everyone wants to see this. "Fight the Power" is screamed back at the band and, despite the rage these tunes espoused in the late 80s and early 90s, there is a slight pantomime vibe to it now. That's not really a criticism, it's just that it probably sounded more threatening back then than it does now. It's a tribute to magnificent time-served showmanship. A little bit of playing up to the rock crowd with a well executed but slightly whiffy 'Smells Like Team Spirit' mash-up leads towards the anthemic 'Harder Than You Think'.

So how do you follow up a gang of old guys playing the set of their lives? Get an even older guy to go even harder. What is Iggy Pop made of? Is he even human? All sinew, saggy bits of flesh and that gorgeous mane of hair; he's a one man wrecking crew with some absolute sledgehammer songs to match.

Props to the dude, he runs on like he's possessed and straight into 'No Fun'. He actually blasts through four massive tunes at the very beginning of the show. 'I Wanna Be Your Dog' follows, replete with him virtually lapdancing the front row and doing weird little poochie poses with the mic lead in his mouth. 'Passenger' and 'Lust for Life' follow on and there's dancing and singing and rattling of jewellery in amongst the audience.

It is a strangely mesmerising experience watching this sweaty little lunatic go through his exaggerated motions. He flings the microphone stand and nearly takes out a security guard. No apologies; just a shrug and on with things.

'Skull Ring' in all its 'Peter Gunn' sampling glory and 'Real Wild One' are hyper. God knows how he does it. It's exhausting stuff just watching him.

He is an enigma, a court jester, a dynamo, a wizened little wizard of real rock n roll. Genius.

As the buses start leaving back for Reykjavik and what would normally be considered “headliners” having performed, it's perhaps inevitable that Run the Jewels play to an aircraft hanger about a third full. Shame though as their set is just as energetic as anything before. Relying less on a back-catalogue of hits and more on the straight-up old skool configuration of two emcees and one deejay, Killer Mike kills and El-P is pretty much the coolest nerd in the world. World class rapper, producer and DJ and still creating absolute bangers in whatever guise he takes on.

Highlights are the Zach De La Rocha sampling 'Close Your Eyes' and 'Lie Cheat Steal' – perhaps the tunes with a little more visibility and a bit more hooky.

The show is wonderful but perhaps a little bit lost in the vastness of the venue but still, there's an encore of 'Angeldust' before the house lights go up and it's all over for the day.

Thor's day Thursday. We were absolutely hammered by some god-like performances of heroes of past and present. An absolute triumph.

Latest Updates