Ég Lima is a band name inspired by an autocorrect incident. I was texting with a friend, commiserating about how exhausting life can be, especially under the constant stress of this era of plague. I responded, or at least tried to, with ég líka, the Icelandic for ‘me too’, but it was autocorrected to ‘Ég Lima’. Why did the AI seem to think, keep the ég ditch the líka? Only our ever benevolent sky-net overlords know for sure and I’m sure they know best. Anywho, I made a joke that it sounded like the name of a Reykjavík-based imaginary Peruvian, punk-new age band and immediately made a band t-shirt.
The convo:
Months later, I was lying in bed, when my youngest offspring hopped into bed, as he is want to do on a school-day morning, for a little snuggle and chat. He had just gotten his second shot of the plague vaccine the day before and his arm was still a bit sore.
“It sounds like dead cells,” he said.
“What do dead cells sound like?” I asked.
“I don’t know. Crinkly,” he replied.
“The sound of dead cells. That would make a good band name,” I said.
“Or name of a song,” my husband chimed in from his side of the bed.
“Or an album,” I offered.
“Or maybe just an EP,” said the youngest offspring.
And that’s when it hit me. ‘Sound of Dead Cells’ would be the perfect name of the breakout single of my imaginary band Ég Lima. I can just see the blurb about them now:
Ég Lima Erupts onto the Icelandic Music Scene
Ég Lima is a Reykjavík based punk new age band with Peruvian roots and they’re pumping new blood into the heart of punk with their first single, ‘Sound of Dead Cells’. On the surface ‘Sound of Dead Cells’ is just another “back to basics” punk song. Lead singer and guitarist, Pablo Puddin’ screams the names of his favorite Paleolithic animals over sawed guitar riffs and impressively violent drums. But a deeper listen reveals layers of traditional Peruvian flutes, flutes Pablo says are made using replicas of the fossilized bones of ancient sloths recently discovered in the Peruvian Andes. The sounds of the Paleolithic pipes weave in and out of the echos of handbells and the strumming of synthesized harp to create an eerily pre-historic soundscape. First time listeners may find the discordance unsettling but don’t be deterred, because once you get it, you get it, and your ears will never be the same.
It’s my most fervent desire that some whimsy-filled Peruvian musician will read this and become so inspired that they turn Ég Lima into a reality. Will this actually happen? No. Will I continue to think up song names and possibly even lyrics? Yes, yes I will and you should feel free to do the same.
Update on The Viking:
Regular readers of my highly inconsistent blog will remember The Viking from two of my earlier posts. For those who don’t know and/or have forgotten, this is The Viking and this was the last we had heard and seen of him…until now.
While at one of the nearby swimming pools, the husband and youngest offspring ran into The Viking in the locker room. His locker was right next to my husbands. They strike up a conversation in Icelandic but his Icelandic isn’t up to full on conversation and they soon switch to English. If you’ve read the previous posts on The Viking, you’ll know that we’ve heard, or at least thought we’ve heard, him speaking Danish. I propose, dear reader, that my husband, being some distance away in the big hot tub in Vesturbæjarlaug (Westside swimming pool), mistook his wonky Icelandic for Danish.
It turns out, his parents are Icelandic but he grew up in, drum roll please….Texas! Of all the places. How weird is that? Maybe it was his fellow Texan vibe that set my spidey sense all atingle. He’s an Icelandic Texan and I’m a Texan in Iceland. The next time I see him I will probably stare at him, trying to remember where I know him from and then hours later, say out loud”He’s The Texan Viking!”
That is all.
