Jawbox’s Own Special Sweetheart: Iceland

In the wake of the overwhelming success of Nirvana’s Nevermind, major labels in the early/mid-’90s began signing any and every cool indie band they could in hopes of a similar payoff. One such outfit was Jawbox, a Washington, D.C., post-punk quartet that had issued two promising albums on the indier-than-thou Dischord label. The band—guitarist/vocalist J. Robbins, guitarist Bill Barbot, bassist Kim Coletta and drummer Zachary Barocas—signed to Atlantic and released the excellent For Your Own Special Sweetheart in 1994. (Though MAGNET named it the fifth-best album that year, Sweetheart was far from a commercial hit.) In 1996, Jawbox issued a slicker self-titled LP, which also failed to catch on beyond the indie-rock crowd, and the band broke up the following year. Dischord has just reissued For Your Own Special Sweetheart with three bonus tracks, and to celebrate, Jawbox is reuniting for a one-off performance on Late Night With Jimmy Fallon tonight. Barbot is also guest editing magnetmagazine.com all week. Read our Q&A with him.

Barbot: You might think we’re going to say something here about Björk or Sigur Rós. The former was described to us by our 65-year-old cabbie/tour guide, Gudmundur, as a “national treasure.” (He then proceeded to play us “Bohemian Rhapsody,” his favorite song not by Björk). He followed up by taking us to the Sigur Rós compound in suburban Reykjavik, treating it as if it were as worthy a sightseeing locale as a boiling mud pit, a steam cave or a volcano. I call it a “compound,” but it’s more a non-descript collection of small, beige buildings on a hillside dotted with sheep. The recording studio was closed, but we did buy a couple of crafts handmade by “special people,” which it turns out were not trolls as we had hoped, but mentally handicapped Icelanders who I’m sure are every bit as lovely as the rest of their countrymen. So, no Björk, no Sigur Rós, not even the Airwaves Festival. Black-stone beaches, geysers, waterfalls, glaciers, five-gait horses, fumaroles, alien landscape and utterly charming quasi-elfin people? Sure, but not right now. And, like the Fiery Furnaces, we saw enough stray ponies and puffins to get us through till the end of May. All of that is well and good, and a wonderful reason to visit, but why you really need to go out of your way to hit Iceland: the swimming pools. See, they have a system; strike that, a national culture that appreciates the value of a good swim like no other place on earth. They have mastered the art of channeling their most valuable natural resources—geothermal heat and incredibly clean water—into the most beautiful, well-kept, swimmable bodies of H2O on the planet. You can find a fantastic pool in just about any little village. First, you gotta get comfortable being in the altogether in public, as it is mandated that one shower, thoroughly nude, with soap (they take great pains to remind you about the soap) in a big communal stall. Go ahead, take it all off, and there are signs in seven languages, complete with diagrams, to remind of you of the naughtiest bits that require the most intense sudsing action. Don’t think it’s like in the U.S. where it’s merely a suggestion: You do not want to suffer the dirty looks of an entire nation for attempting to forego the requisite shower. The sanctity of the pool relies on everyone in it being clean as a whistle, because—this is the kicker—they don’t use chlorine. Yes. Dive in. Open your eyes. Drink it if you want. It’s warm, it’s clean, and it smells, tastes and feels like … nothing. It will be the most refreshing, pleasant, water-based experience you will ever have. Swim a few lengths with your eyes open. Clamber out of the lap pool and sink into an adjacent hot tub. They’ll most likely have three or four, each with progressively hotter water, from “womb” up to “lobster pot.” Rest your head and suck in deep lungfuls of unpolluted Arctic air. Soak in the steam, feel your butt muscles and your brain unclench while you watch sunsets that, in October, last about three hours. On second thought, don’t go. It’s a little country. We don’t want the pool to get too crowded. Video after the jump.