One night of Icelandic post-metal, emotional damage, and a missed photo op.
Sólstafir—one of my absolute favourite bands. Since the day I stumbled across them, I’ve devoured every album like a starved wolf in a record store. They’re my go-to for writing, for cleaning, for existential staring into the void while doing 140 on the autobahn.
So when I saw they were coming to Hamburg on November 19th, I snapped up a ticket faster than you can say post-black-what-now? Been counting down since June. That’s five months of emotional build-up for one night. No pressure, right?
Solo Mission: Chaos Mode Activated
This was my first concert without my husband accompanying me, and yeah—that alone made the whole thing feel different. I hate being out alone at night. I get freaked out by people far too easily for someone who keeps going to metal gigs. So instead of dealing with the horror show that is Hamburg public transport, I drove.
Which, obviously, meant driving into Hamburg in the dark, in the rain, with the Elbe Tunnel closed and the traffic gods laughing at me from above. I arrived fifteen minutes late to the restaurant where I was supposed to meet my friend and colleague Jan, completely stressed out, damp, and on the verge of spontaneously combusting.
Luckily, vegan Korean food at @kkoki.lovesvegan exists. Worth every moment of pre-dinner chaos. Highly recommend as a pre-gig anxiety buffer.
Venue Vibes: Concrete Walls, Metal Souls
We got to the venue around 7:30 PM. Uebel & Gefährlich is one of those legendary clubs in Hamburg — you hear the name, nod sagely, pretend you’ve been. I hadn’t. Not until now. The venue is tucked up on the fourth floor of a WWII flak tower in St. Pauli. Concrete brutalism meets reverb heaven. Absolutely my vibe.
Short Girl Survival Tactics
Still pretty empty when we arrived, so we grabbed drinks and I made a beeline for the steps next to the bar. Pro tip: if you’re 158 cm tall, it’s either first row or elevated seating, otherwise you’re just vibing to the back of someone’s leather jacket all night.
And to be honest, the first row felt a bit too intimate this time. No stage pit. Just the band, and then bam, your face. Especially weird when you don’t know the opening acts and you're wondering if any of them might ask you for your phone charger mid-set.
Opener One: Hair, Charisma, and Audacity
First opener: Timechild from Denmark — progressive heavy rock. Frontman Anders Folden Brink? Honestly, the man had the best hair of the entire night. Maybe of the month. Charisma for days. Tried to get the Hamburg crowd singing along after two songs, which was—bold. Suicidal, really. We are not that emotionally available.
Opener Two: Doom, Gloom, and Finnish Brooding
Next up: The Abbey from Finland — progressive dark rock meets doom metal. More brooding. More ambient. More “if you light a candle during this set, a ghost will follow you home.” I liked it.
Sound Problems? Just Iceland Things
Sólstafir took the stage around 9:30 PM, opening with Bláfjall off 2017’s Berdreyminn. A gorgeous choice—and immediately undermined by massive sound issues and feedback loops that could probably summon demons.
But Tryggvason handled it like an absolute pro. Charismatic, composed, and somehow still making it feel like part of the experience. Like, yes, we are all suffering together—that’s the Icelandic way.
Setlist of Dreams (and Emotional Damage)
The setlist was tight. Balanced. A gorgeous mix from Svartir Sandar (2012), Ótta (2014), and of course Endless Twilight of Codependent Love (2020).
They closed the main set with Ritual of Fire from Masterpiece of Bitterness (2005) and I’m fairly sure they played all fourteen glorious minutes of it. Svabbi was on fire. That man was in another dimension.
Fjara Broke Me (Again) & A Frontman With Zero Bullshit
Encore? Fjara. Cue me melting. That track owns a significant percentage of my soul. I ditched the steps and made my way to the front like a goblin summoned by the opening notes. Worth it. Every time.
Tryggvason’s stage presence was everything. No ego. No pretense. Just full connection. You could feel how present he was—like he wasn't just performing, he was communing.
The final song of the night was Goddess of the Ages from Köld (2009), leaving their debut Í Blóði og Anda (2002) the only one left out of the mix. If they’d played The Underworld Song, I’d have had to ascend right there.
Regrets? Only Two (And They’re Petty)
Only two tiny drops of bitterness in an otherwise flawless night:
- They didn’t play The Underworld Song.
- I left at 23:30 like the practical adult I pretend to be.
While I was trudging back to my car through sideways rain, feet half-numb because I hadn’t worn those cursed boots in ages, Jan was still queueing for his coat — and guess what? He got a photo. Of course he did.
Weeeee bit jealous. Just a smidge. Okay, a lot.
But hey, one doesn’t get any younger, right? I’m consoling myself with the promise that this wasn’t the last time. I’ll see Sólstafir again — and next time, I’ll wear better shoes and wait for the damn picture.
