Sporting pop-sensibilities in the likes of Prefab Sprout, Miike Snow and Phoenix, as well as projecting the relatable feeling of longing and desire to avoid long lost chances, newcomer Ragnar Ægir’s music slips soothingly along a sea of strong hooks and beautiful heartfelt lyrics. Icelandic heritage plays a big part in Ragnar Ægir’s music. Drawing inspiration from his country and its peers such as Björk, Of Monsters and Men and Sigur Rós, Ragnar sees it as his creative and musical mission to do his home country justice. “Imagine the stunning Icelandic landscape, moving images and videos of time-lapses. Every song I write needs to work for that kind of cinematic feel,” he says.
Ragnar grew up on a remote farm in Iceland. He went to a school with only twelve students and two teachers, one being his mother. The thirty-year-old musician has had a very unconventional musical upbringing, having taken piano lessons purely to escape Maths classes. His teacher, the local priest, could barely read notes himself, so he trained Ragnar to use his ears and play the piano solely off what he heard. The older he got, the more he became obsessed with music, and it wasn’t just a reason to skip Maths classes anymore. By the age of 17, after he graduated High School, he moved to Scotland to study music production.
Having rebelled against the formality of production, Ragnar took a long break from music. Passion is not something easily shaken. In a series of events, such as breaking his leg, the pandemic, watching the miniseries “Chernobyl”, breaking up an eight-year business partnership and performing at his godson’s christening, Ragnar realized his life was to be found and expressed through music. So inspired by that experience, Ragnar wrote ten songs in 2 months!
Every creative decision Ragnar makes is influenced by his home country and the creatives it has released into the world. Being inspired by his family, science and the world around him, he sees it as his musical aim to create music that’s emotive, cinematic and works with beautiful footage of Iceland’s scenery, especially the rough sealines.
He says: “There is nothing more magical for me than the sea. I grew up with the Atlantic coastline on my doorstep. The sound of the sea is one continuous roar, heavy, deep, dark, sombre. At its height you feel it come from the earth beneath your feet. I grew up listening to this composition, my great-uncle calling it “the opera of the sea,” “the expression of the bleeding dawn sky,” and the “voice of god in nature.” Nothing catches my imagination as much as that.”