Smekkleysa: Creativity = Bad Taste ? - An essay by Phoebe Jenkins

Smekkleysa: Creativity = Bad taste?
Essay by Phoebe Jenkins
Reykjavík 2004

Introduction
The chief enemy of creativity is good taste.
Picasso

It is hard to pin down Smekkleysa, and it is a hard task defining what they were when they formed in 1986. They defined themselves in their manifesto as a company that would concentrate on publishing or performing works, in whatever genre or media, “records, novels, poems, art, clothing, family entertainment, or revolution and any kind of cleaning activity” (quoted in Engilbertsson, 2003: 2). Their aim was to achieve ‘world domination or death’. They called themselves Bad Taste and stated that they would work “concertedly against anything that can be categorized as good taste or financial restraint” (quoted in Engilbertsson, 2003: 2). One thing is clear, Smekkleysa was a re-grouping of a circle of friends in the autumn of 1986; previous members of the Medusa group, Kukl, and Purrkur Pillnikk (see fig. 1-3 in appendix, pp. 20-21). All these artists had been part of the Reykjavik underground and avant garde. They had never become popular and were considered by the mainstream as difficult and inaccessible. Their links with artists such as Dagur Sigurdarsson would also have been uncomfortable for the conventional Icelander. Sjón describes the mood preceding the genesis of Smekkleysa as dark, heavy and serious: “Everybody was looking for a way out of this, to explore the happy crazy side of the avant garde ideas that we had” (Sjón, 2004). The name ‘Bad Taste’ cuts to the core of what Smekkleysa was attempting to achieve in Reykjavik in 1986. They were off beat, unpopular and outside the mainstream. With their name they were in some ways saying, “hey, there is nothing that says that this is not good taste too” (Einar Örn, 2004). It was an ironic protest against what was considered good taste and placed them in contrast to what this was and stood for. Additionally, it was an attempt to usurp the terms ‘bad taste’ and ‘good taste’ and show that the rigidity of these terms inhibited creative expression.
In this essay I want to outline what good taste was in Reykjavik in 1986 and to argue what ideologies it stood for. Against this I will show how Smekkleysa contrasted these ideas through their methodologies, graphics and business sense. They maintained the surrealist and punk elements that had influenced them in the years preceding Smekkleysa in all aspects of the company. Thus, Smekkleysa has given the Icelandic art community an alternative to the mainstream methods of art production. The mainstream method is one that is often concerned with profit making and thus more controlling over the artists creativity. As Bibbi, ‘the child of Bad Taste’ says, Smekkleysa made an environment for artists in which artists could be themselves and disregard the pressures of the companies producing their work (Bibbi, 2004). I am concerned with analysing Smekkleysa’s early graphics. I want to show the way in which they created an environment for the next generations of artists in Iceland to ‘be themselves’ and to create art on their own terms.
I interviewed Sjón, Fridrik Erlingsson, Einar Örn and Bibbi ‘Curver’ as well as looking at many different primary sources from the era. I also paid frequent visits to Ólafur Engilbertsson who generously showed me original material prior to and during the early Smekkleysa years.

Good Taste vs. Bad Taste
The man in the suit was firmly back in power, and low-key, well-executed design invited us once again to feel comfortable with (or at least uncritical of) this idea.
Maud Lavin

Suits were all the rage in Reykjavik in 1986 when Smekkleysa began. In the centre of town suit shops lined the streets; Tískuhúsid ÍNA, Kjallarinn, Torgid, Herraríkid, P&Ó, Adam, Ping Pong and Victoria, just to name a few. On every other page in the main fashion magazines people of all ages adorned themselves in suits of all shapes and sizes, colours and styles (see fig. 4-6 in appendix, pp. 22). The 80’s hit Iceland with a vengeance and the suit, spiced up and in tune with 80’s glam, was a recurring motif navigating Reykjavik’s streets. Escorting the suits were geometric hairstyles kept in place with stiff hairspray. They were an array of sharp peroxide lines carefully angled and tweened. Then there were the shoulder pads sculpting the body and giving the illusion of a straight, upwardly mobile and confident posture. This was what was hip and cool; this was good taste and style (see fig. 7 in appendix, pp. 23). But what did it represent? What messages were 80’s mainstream style giving out?
It could be argued that the glammed-up suit revealed that the public had accepted that “[t]he man in the suit was firmly back in power” (Lavin, 2001: 91), and corporations, capitalism and individual gain were acceptable and desirable assets to society. Dick Hebdige describes the suit as “the conventional insignia of the business world” with connotations of “efficiency, ambition, compliance with authority” (1987 [1979]: 104). Admittedly the suit Hebdige is talking about had been transformed by 80’s fashion. It had been spiced up to give it a more fun and exciting image. I would, however, not consider 80’s style as a form of subversion. This kind of appropriation and re-coding is often used by subcultures such as the mods’ transformation of the suit into “ ‘empty’ fetishes, objects to be desired, fondled and valued in their own right” (Hebdige, 1987 [1979]: 105). In 1986 in Reykjavik the glammed-up suit was not threatening a revolution against capitalism or a rejection of dominant modes of power. To the contrary, it was embracing it by making it cool and ‘tasteful’. It was part of 80’s mainstream culture that accepted the suit with glee and flirted with what it represented. Good taste in 80’s Reykjavik endorsed glamour and luxury, key components of an upwardly mobile and profitable consumer society (see fig. 8 in appendix, pp. 25).
The soundtrack that accompanied 80’s “daring and good taste” (Hár og fegurd, 1986: 13) in Iceland at the time was a hotch-potch of the Icelandic equivalents of Duran Duran and Wham. When asked what these bands were called, Sjón said, “just pure sugary tacky pop music. Horrible bands, you don’t want to know their names. It’s Icelandic pop music” (Sjón, 2004). Sjón explained that there was also a monopoly on music in Iceland. There were only two radio stations at the time (Rúv and Rás 2). If you wanted to get your music heard you had to go through them. “The radio did not play Kukl or Tappi Tíkarrass” (Sjón, 2004). As stated in an article in Mannlíf in June 1986, Kukl had been considered as “inaccessible and repulsive” and consequently not the kind of stuff that was decent to broadcast (Mannlíf, 1986: 113). Sjón also commented on the sudden explosion of music and popular culture: “All of a sudden people started producing music for the radio. It was not the sort of music we wanted” (Sjón, 2004). Popular demand was the new authority on what played on the radio. It was about what would sell and feed a consumer market. This was an example of a new freedom where style and taste were decided by the general public or more appropriately, the consumer rather than an educated elite. Good taste, therefore, was what was popular.
Another thing important to note about music production at this time is that it was considered an industry. The connotations surrounding this word take the artistic aspects away from it and place in the foreground the idea of music as a product, something that is manufactured due to large-scale business activity.
In terms of graphic design, good taste found its roots in modernism. The most prestigious graphic designers in Britain at the time, such as Peter Saville, Neville Brody and Malcolm Garret were heavily influenced by Herbert Spencer’s book Pioneers of Modern Typography. The book outlined work of modernists’ leading lights such as El Lissitzky, Theo van Doesburg, Piet Zwart, Alexander Rodchenko, Jan Tschichold to name just a few. Peter Saville says about the book in an interview with Christopher Wilson:
So sometime during my second year when I saw a book called Pioneers of Modern Typography on Malcolm’s desk, I thought ‘Wow. It’s all here.’ My academic education began at that point[…]It just looked like the graphic formula for the times. It was self-evident that this was how graphics should be now.
(quoted in King, 2003: 26)
Many designs by these graphic designers in the 80’s can be traced back to specific works by these modernists. This led to the graphics having a professional, very ‘designed’ and ‘well-executed’ feel (see fig. 9-12 in appendix, pp. 24-26). At times it could seem as though the design rather than what was behind it had become more significant and often led to complaints about over-design (Poynor, 2003: 75). During the 80’s there was also a huge emphasis on being cool. Peter Saville admits, “I wanted to be cool. How I had the good fortune to grow up gave me only one ambition in life, and that was to be groovy” (quoted in King, 2003: 28). Hebdige (1988) sees the cool design of The Face, by Neville Brody as appealing to the “urban consumer” (pp. 162). Perhaps, finally, it is interesting to note that the techniques laid out by these early modernists were also being used to create corporate identities such as logos and letterheads, and ever since modernist style has been the most effective corporate language.
So it seems good taste represented the following during the 80’s; an acceptance of capitalism and consumer society; the rise of popular culture to a position of power not enjoyed before where the majority decided what was produced; a predominantly rational or self-conscious environment with polished graphic design heavily influenced by the style of modernist graphic designers, leading to what can be considered ‘over-design’ or ‘over-packaging’; an emphasis on glamour, luxury, style and cool.
Although, as Einar Örn (2004) emphasizes, “we were not knocking those with hairspray,” the current state of affairs was in their opinion sacrificing creativity. By giving themselves the ironic name ‘Bad Taste’, the Smekkleysa group were trying to redefine these clichéd terms and create a new space for creativity in Reykjavik. Furthermore, they were a contrast to conventional attitudes and ways of doing things. Gudmundur Steingrimsson describes Smekkleysa as the desirable antithesis to 80’s Icelandic popular culture and what I have argued as ‘good taste’ when reminiscing about his teenage life in 1986.
When I was 14 or so, and Bad Taste had just been formed, by punks in knit sweaters…and I was sentenced to playing ping-pong at some community centre in the suburb of Gardabær every night listening to Wham or Duran Duran…and was also one of those teenagers who used real hairspray, and lots of it, to hold their hair in some weird shape suited to go with silk jackets with shoulder pads, the arms of which we’d roll up when dancing disco on some corny dance floor at a community centre…I remember thinking…I want to be like them.
(quoted in Engilbertsson, 2003: 31)

Smekkleysa in their ‘knit sweaters’ attempted to knock good taste and what it stood for off its pedastal in 1986 and show Iceland that there were alternative ways of doing business. Their methods were a mixture of the prankster, the absurd, the surreal, DIY and a disregard of financial restraint.

Smekkleysa vs. The World
World domination or death
Smekkleysa motto

In the catalogue for the Smekkleysa exhibition that took place in summer 2003, Jóhamar writes
Capitalism! It's enough to make anyone grey-haired before their time. We live on a planet that's a giant bureaucracy. Being sold like a can of soup isn't a really enticing thought.
(quoted in Engilbertsson, 2003: 4)

Playing by the conventional business game did not seem to be Smekkleysa’s style. In the summer of 1986 Smekkleysa officially began with the birth of Björk’s son, Sindri, on the 8th June. The manifesto appeared in September and opens with “world domination or death” (quoted in Engilbertsson, 2003: 2). Fridrik Erlingsson (2004) explains this motto as describing their attitude of going all the way and having nothing to lose. It seemed that this attitude certainly guided their business sense, one of great risk taking and not succumbing to the persuasions of others. Although Sigtryggur Baldursson in an interview in 1993 claimed that the main reason for the formation of the Sugarcubes was purely that they wanted to make money (Icelandic TV-special, The Sugarcubes, 1993), they certainly had an unusual way of going about it. Their methods required a lot of faith, as it seemed that everything they did would lead to them losing money rather than making any. The production of the Sugarcubes’ first single, Einn Mol’á Mann, is just one example of many of their profit making methods (see fig. 13-14 in appendix, pp. 27). When 500 copies of the single came back from production in Hafnarfjördur, they soon discovered that only half of them worked. It was at Bragi’s home that they played over every single record, one after the other, to discover which ones were faulty. Only 250 of them were sellable. They then had to glue the record covers by hand and on top of that colour the eyes of the sugar cube man on the cover red because this had been over-looked when sending them to the printers (Matthíasson, 1992: 26-27). They sold the singles from the back of Fridrik’s car on Austurstræti. Unfortunately it didn’t sell well and it was not until both Melody Maker and NME put them on their front covers that the Sugarcubes’ popularity increased. The DIY methods that found their roots in punk certainly came into play when producing their first single. They also showed a confidence in themselves that they could just go out and produce a record without going into business relations with anyone else. As Ólafur Engilbertsson (2004) said, there was a surrealist anti-rational sentiment within Smekkleysa of just going out and doing it, rather than thinking too much about things.
On the back of the cover for Einn mol’á mann stands the logo for Dansukker, a registered trademark for sugar and a ubiquitous household product in Iceland (see fig. 14 in appendix, pp. 27). This caused the response from the Reykjavík underground “jæja, thá eru thau búin ad selja sig líka” (Gestur Gudmundsson, 90: 245). With this they were suggesting they had been sponsored by the sugar company. However it was just one big joke. They were playfully undermining the idea of sponsorship. They were suggesting that sponsors have so much power that they even determine the name of the band, ‘The Sugarcubes’. They took it one step further by using a picture of a sugar cube to identify the band. The graphic design for their first single was playful, farfetched and ambiguous. People could take it seriously and think that the Sugarcubes had in fact “sold out”, however the underlying message is the complete opposite. The graphic device détournement, initiated by the Situationists in Paris, was heavily used in punk graphics. Jamie Reid was the king of détournement in 70’s punk Britain and designed the infamous covers for the Six Pistols singles, including ‘God Save the Queen’ and ‘Anarchy in the UK’. He took the image of Queen Elizabeth II and defaced it with a safety-pin, which thereafter became one of numerous punk motifs. In this way, Reid used détournement to scream anti-establishment sentiment and anger against what the Sex Pistols saw as an authoritative and elitist Britain. With his design, Fridrik Erlingsson used détournement in a more lighthearted way. There was not the same anger or intensity, but nonetheless the Sugarcubes were sticking two fingers up at sponsorship by poking fun.
How they raised the money to produce the single in the first place, further emphasises the extreme irony involved by using the logo for Danish sugar on the cover. The money had been raised by the sales of one postcard (see fig. 15 in appendix, pp. 28). It was a kitsch, tasteless postcard, using the idolatry aesthetics of the Stalinist era, celebrating the Gorbachov/Reagan peace meeting in Reykjavik in October 1986. Fridrik Erlingsson painted it in an evening and 2000 postcards were printed and sold in various shops around Reykjavik. As well as poking fun at the souvenir frenzy due to the peace meeting, they decided to jump onto the bandwagon and use the opportunity to make some money too. The tone of the postcard was “ad rembast vid ad gera eitthvad vel sem tekst ekki alveg” (Fridrik, 2004) to make fun of the souvenir frenzy. The point of departure was ‘if this is good taste I prefer bad taste.’ The postcard sold so well that Smekkleysa raised enough money to create Einn mol’á mann. DIY financing worked like a treat and showed big business that the ‘little men’ did not need them.
Another example of their unconventional attitude to business, which at first glance seems like business suicide was when the Sugarcubes refused to sign a contract for 300 000 pounds with Warner in London. They received condescending press about their rejection of the contract in Morgunbladid in 1987:
Besta dæmisagan um breytta tíma var lesin upp í sjónvarpinu thess efnis ad Sykurmolarnir, nyjasta vinsældahljómsveitin, hefdu ekki séd ástædu til ad taka samningstilbodi frá útlöndum upp á fjörutíu milljónir. Eda voru thad kannski fimmtíu milljónir? Hvad eru fimmtíu milljónir á milli vina fyrir ungt fólk á framabraut? Í gamla daga hefdi einhvern svimad vid slíkar upphædir…
(quoted in Engilbertsson, 2003: back cover)

Although the band was ready to sign the contract up until the last minute, Warner deceptively changed the clauses in the contract that meant that Einar would have to be expelled from the Sugarcubes immediately. When this came to light, the band stood up as one and left the building (Matthíasson, 1992: 48). Band loyalties won over promises of fame and fortune from a big corporate company. To walk out on such a huge opportunity could seem to have been a rebellious, arrogant and immature response for the tastes of the Morgunbladid reporter, but Sjón attributes this to the sentiment within the Smekkleysa group as a resistance towards professionalism. He said:
If we had become respectable artists, we would have done this on the terms of those before instead of giving ourselves time from beginning of Smekkleysa to end of Sugar Cubes. We gave ourselves space and time and we lay down the rules and made it possible to continue working as we do, hopefully forever.
(Sjón, 2004)

The interesting lesson that was learnt by the Sugarcubes venture was that success does not necessarily lie in the hands of those with big bucks. Also the lack of popularity does not equal imminent failure. This is something that stayed with Smekkleysa and influenced business decisions thereafter. The aim had always been to help give artists a chance, including themselves, who were not giving in to popular taste. Sjón mentioned Sigur Rós as an example of this in his interview.
Sigur Ros sold only 300 copies of their first album. We came from selling 300 copies or 3 copies and so they were allowed to make a re-mix album of that album and they were given enough money to make Agaetis birjun, the album that made them world famous.
(Sjón, 2004)

From the beginning, Smekkleysa had intended to “work concertedly against anything that can be categorised as good taste or financial restraint” (Manifesto, quoted in Engilbertsson, 2003: 2). By not consistently making a profit and allowing for failures seems to have been the key to Smekkleysa’s success.
Smekkleysa also challenged good taste with their methodology. It was fast paced and spontaneous, lending rawness to their graphic style. There was a free for all when it came to designing. It was about whoever had the time to do it. There was never any particular style. For example, if Einar Örn was delegated the job of making the poster he would blow up type using a photocopier, put an image of a kettle or something completely unrelated on it and throw it at the printers. However, if Sjón was designing the poster he would make surrealist drawings, using ink to make them more messy and organic (Sjón, 2004). Sjón comments that the poster design for the Bad Taste nights was done out of necessity. “We never had any money and we didn’t want to spend our money on posters. There were more important things to do than spend our money on posters. You had to drink something. So you did the posters as cheap as possible. So we never went this way of polishing or designing you know. This is also a reaction to the glamour of the 80’s” (Sjón, 2004). In contrast Peter Saville took a long time to design his pieces. He comments, “Time stood still around my drawing board. I remember an outrageous situation when a proof came back for a True Faith poster. I taped it to the wall. There was something wrong with it – a piece of type that was too high. And I sent it back to be done again” (quoted in King, 2003: 32). Saville created well thought out and pondered work. His designs were more in tune with current trends where cool, polish and glamour had become key words.
Studmenn in the late 80’s went this way of polishing and designing. They were theatrical. In ’82 they made a comedy musical called Med Allt Á Hreinu where they created a story to surround their hits. They were the kings of performance, clad in outfits and uniforms (see fig. 16 in appendix, pp. 28). It is also interesting to point out that they were educated musicians who experimented with different styles. In contrast Smekkleysa were more ‘from the moment’, creating an atmosphere. Their attitude was rooted in the punk philosophy that it does not matter what you can do rather what you do. Einar Örn, in an interview in Mannlíf, comments on how when he is up on stage he is not acting at all, “thetta er ég á svidinu, mínar tilfinningar” (quoted in Pálsson, 1986: 118). Although those in the Smekkleysa group were educated in various fields (media studies, graphic design, literature), there were few who were actual professionals in their field. They were self -taught and there was the attitude that you could do everything yourself. Einar Örn (2004) reflected, “you did what was handed down to you and you just had to do it. That’s why things happened quickly. People never said ‘I can’t do it, I don’t know how to do it.’ You just found out. People started making their network of how to do things.” Sjón describes that the initial founding of Smekkleysa had been a choice not to enter the sphere of professionalism. He says Smekkleysa happened at the time when we should have grown up. Our friends and people our age were going into society and getting day jobs. This is a group that decided to continue. These were the people who decided to take the chance . We didn’t see this as just a part of our youth. In a collective statement we said ‘we’re going to stay silly, difficult, dangerous.’
(Sjón, 2004)

Smekkleysa was more in tune with surrealism and punk combined, a combination of a DIY methodology and trusting the subconscious and irrationality. It did not matter what you did or how you did it, but if you worked together in the moment something would happen (Fridrik Erlingsson, 2004). It wasn’t a question of what you had learnt or how you had learnt. It was more about what you did.
In the film Med Allt Á Hreinu, Studmenn say with a pinch of irony, “Vid verdum ad vera svolítid wild en samt med styrtimennskuna í fyrirrúmi” (Med Allt Á Hreinu, 1982). The 80’s aesthetic was posed, styled, self-conscious and theatrical (see fig. 17 in appendix, pp. 30). Smekkleysa was a contrast to this which Studmenn humorously pointed out in August 86 when they played a concert on Arnarholl. The Sugarcubes were supposed to be their support band. Studmenn had just returned from China where they had silk suits tailored for them in all sorts of colours, orange, yellow, blue. They were bright silk suits, the height of fashion at the time, with shoulder pads and all the 80’s trappings. However, instead of the Sugarcubes warming up for them they had to pretend to be them. So the Sugarcubes appeared on stage in the silk suits and began to play a cover to one of Studmenn’s famous songs. They held up this pretence until Studmenn appeared on stage clad in police suits and announced that “a very serious crime has been committed and this is not Studmenn at all”, and the Sugarcubes were thrown off stage (Fridrik Erlingsson, 2004). It is an over-simplification to paint Studmenn as opposite to the Sugarcubes and Smekkleysa. This would not be a true interpretation of the cultural landscape in Reykjavik. Studmenn were not anti-underground, although they experimented with the uniform trends at the time. Smekkleysa were just not going in that direction (Sjón, 2004). It can be said however that Studmenn were part of the posed, designed and styled 80’s aesthetic whereas Smekkleysa with their methodology and style were not. “Smekkleysa looked more like second hand Oxfam” (Einar Örn, 2004).
Arguably, Smekkleysa was more spontaneous than the styled and posed 80’s. They were from a background of punk and surrealism and prior to 86 they had been responding to the current rationality in a serious way with the Medusa group and bands such as Kukl. Einar Örn (2004) commented, “we were suffering.” It was under these circumstances that they decided to re-group and add the prankster element. Instead of taking it all too seriously the aim now was to have fun with it. The surrealist and irrational element combined with the new prankster element blossomed with the bad taste nights. Smekkleysa would advertise the Bad Taste nights using conventional means; posters, press releases, radio announcements. However they would be with a difference. An entire fiction would be created around the events whereby the only secure information was the date and location. One such campaign advertised a happening called ‘Goodbye to the Rock Cow’. It was in memory of a bull called Islero which had been killed by the famous bullfigher, Manolete. The bull had died exactly one hundred years ago on the date of the happening. The press release announced that they would be throwing cows in parachutes over Reykjavik. On the evening itself they filled a glass coffin with empty pernod bottles and animal bones that Fridrik and Thór had collected from the butchers (Fridrik Erlingsson, 2004; Einar Örn, 2004) (see fig. 18-19 in appendix, pp. 29-30). People would show up but they couldn’t rely on the posters for what was happening, if the right band would be playing or the right people would be performing. The basis was the rock concert and some time or other a band would appear and perform (Sjón, 2004). There would also be poetry readings but “when we say poetry readings we don’t mean people standing there in their nice suits. We would be doing all sorts of crazy things as well, brandishing swords, banging plates of corroded iron“ (Sjón, 2004). The way the group went around creating and advertising the Bad Taste nights would be using the established ways of doing things, but they inserted a whole lot of nonsense into it. They were parodying and ridiculing the establishment by having fun with it. Like Fridrik Erlingsson (2004) says “vid bulludum gegn bullinu.” Unlike the Dadaists who created a hoax in order to make the guests turn up, Smekkleysa’s claims were too far-fetched to be believable. The aim was not to lure people under false pretences but to attract those who were like themselves to the events (Fridrik Erlingsson, 2004). It wasn’t a trick to get more people to the happenings, “We were happy to get 50 people to come to our concerts” (Einar Örn, 2004). In that sense the information on the posters, press-releases and announcements were accurate and the design was not really unrelated to what would actually happen at the events. In light of one principle of graphic design being to clearly convey a message, the methods above definitely represented the confusion and unexpectedness of the nights themselves.
Although Sjón (2004) claims that Smekkleysa was anti-design, much of the graphic design reflected the sentiments of the group. One final example is the current Smekkleysa logo. The logo, an image of a pig sitting under a trumpet, is a parody of the logo of the mega record company, His Master’s Voice (see fig. 20-21 in appendix, pp. 30). Firstly, by transforming the logo into an absurd parody, they are undermining the authority on music of such an established company. Secondly, the logo has transformed into an accurate representation of Smekkleysa. It may seem that the use of a trumpet and a pig is just a bit of Smekkleysa fun to add absurdity to the parody. However, the trumpet could represent the noise and impact that Smekkleysa has created allowing for the underground art scene to find a presence in mainstream Iceland. Also the use of a pig could be interpreted as the indefinableness of Smekkleysa who constantly re-create themselves and do not adhere to any particular style, whether in their graphics, music or publications. Those who work for Smekkleysa do not have to be part of any category. There is an inherent belief in the individual and individual creativity. The punk dictum of ‘anything goes’ is still very much in place. The fact that Smekkleysa is a non-profit company and always puts all the profit into making the next record or publication allows for more risky creations to be produced. For example when Smekkleysa distributed Björk’s album Homogenic in 1997 all the proceedings went into producing a series of eight cds of young Icelandic experimental bands. As well as giving many young bands a huge opportunity to be heard they also gave eight young graphic designers the opportunity to design the covers (Bibbi, 2004). It is this attitude of not always wanting to generate profit, and investing in projects that may seem like a complete waste of money that gives Smekkleysa the character of a crazy captain leading his protesting crew into forbidden territory (Bibbi, 2004).
Conclusion
(the) science which has patented knowledge and reduced the universe down to facts and figures must be rejected.

In Autumn 1986 Reykjavík City was celebrating its 200 year anniversary. Rás 2 decided to hold a competition and encouraged bands to send in a song. The Sugarcubes decided to take part. They rehearsed and came up with a song based on a poem by Thór Eldon, which they recorded using an old-fashioned tape recorder. Rás 2 however rejected the song and decided not to play it on their radio station. The reason was that they felt it was too tasteless. As Fridrik Erlingsson (2004) puts it: “Flottu guttarnir uppi á Rás 2 med blásna hárid, their bara ‘ugggh’, thetta er svo smekklaust.”
By calling themselves ‘Bad Taste’ the Smekkleysa group were not intending to set themselves up as the binary opposition of ‘good taste.’ Echoing Picasso, they wanted to show that good taste was an enemy of creativity. As Fridrik Erlingsson (2004) notes, the Rás 2 critics could just as well have called them “too creative” as “too tasteless.” Good taste had become a form of censorship and a set of rules that had to be conformed to. It restricted creativity with its unwritten terms and conditions which had to be followed in order to enter the desirable sphere of good taste.
Smekkleysa created a new sphere that allowed experimentation to blossom. On the one hand, by setting an example, they influenced a whole generation of artists by sending out the message that one should not abandon ones intuition, that there is no need to sell out. On the other, they made it possible for many of these artists to publish, by lending assistance or even producing their work, rather than censoring it because it did not fit the required criteria. The only criteria for Smekkleysa to publish seems to be that one should remain oneself. Mattiasson makes this point clear in the sleeve of Alltaf Sama Svínid:
Smekkleysa gaf ekki adeins út tónlist sem adrir vildu ekki sinna, heldur skipti fordæmid gríd darlegu máli; ungir tónlistarmenn sáu ad ekki vard öll tónlist ad vera steypt í sama mót, hjá Smekkleysu fengu menn ad vera their sjálfur, ad gera sín mistök á eigin forsendum og líka ad vinna sína listrænu sigra.
(Alltaf Sama Svínid, 2002)

The dream of many teenagers of Bibbi’s generation was to have something produced by Smekkleysa. This encouraged them to remain experimental and fresh and today the Smekkleysa legacy is alive in many bands such as Sigur Rós, Curver, Trabant, Apparat, Múm, Gus Gus and others. The priority does not seem to be ‘ad meika thad’ which Med Allt Á Hreinu parodied 20 years ago when this meant to play in the Tivoli in Copenhagen. The irony is of course that once good taste and everything that it demanded was abandoned, The Sugarcubes went on to become the most famous Icelandic pop band ever. Furthermore, Björk, who never sacrificed her own style that she developed in the early days of Tappi Tíkarass, has become the most successful Icelandic artist on a world scale. Instead of being seen as weird or inaccessible she has now become a symbol for the Icelandic identity as represented abroad.
It seems then that a crazy captain who apparently makes stupid decisions against all the wishes of his crew, making excursions into forbidden territory, will not necessarily end up sinking his ship and the entire crew with it. Iceland has become internationally renowned for its innovative music scene and Smekkleysa has become the second biggest record company in Iceland after Skífan. In addition, smaller record companies such as Thule and New Icon have now followed Smekkleysa’s example and are producing experimental music not pressured by mainstream molds.

Bibiliography

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Source:
www.phoebejenkins.co.uk/smekkleysa.doc
www.smekkleysa.net