Festival Review: Vetrarjazz 2025, Faroe Islands

A poster in my hotel room in the Faroese capital of Tórshavn reads: “There are eight billion people on Earth. How many of them have visited the Faroe Islands?” Not too many, I’d guess.

But there are dozens of reasons to visit this lonely and sometimes windswept archipelago situated roughly midway between Iceland and Norway in the North Atlantic. The stunning scenery, the warm and hospitable people, the distinct and fascinating culture just for starters. And there are also the various music festivals, of which there are a surprising number.

Chief among these is Vetrarjazz (‘Winter jazz’), a week-long annual event held at various venues in and around Tórshavn. Created and run – with the help of Anna Iachino – by the tireless Kristian Blak (owner of Tutl, the Faroes’ leading record shop and label; as well as the founding member of Yggdrasil, who also played the festival), it offers something for everyone, from the avant-garde to lounge jazz – mostly from local acts, but also featuring musicians from other Nordic countries and further afield.

Highlight of the festival for me were local heroes GØ, sporting the expanded line-up that featured on their splendid Ævir, amen album (Jazzwise 303). Performing at the Oy Brewery, they filled the cavernous space with their assertive, muscular sound, full of beef and brass and textural richness; their ‘anything goes’, mix-and-match ethos provided a sell-out crowd with superlative solos, catchy riffs and interesting sounds  – they threw everything they could think of into the mix, and everything worked. They simply dazzled.

Influenced by everyone and no-one, boundary-resistant and great fun, GØ deserve to be huge, and quite frankly, blow most of the currently fashionable UK acts out of the water.

Playing at the same venue the following night were Plúmm (below), a technically fluent, self-taught sextet formed way back in the 1980s who channel the spirit of Jaco, Mahavishnu, Brand X, Trilok G and Weather Report. It was intense and virtuosic, crunchy and FX-laden jazz-rock (one number really had Milesean Jack Johnson vibes); not particularly my cup of tea, but they really know how to do this stuff supremely well and were adored by the local crowd. ‘Plúmm’, incidentally, is a Faroese word that roughly translates as ‘spirit’ and they certainly had that.

Later, over at Blábar (Tórshavn’s version of Café OTO), the Espen Berg Trio’s crystalline acoustic improv provided the perfect way to end an intense evening, even if the venue wasn’t quite suited to this often contemplative music.

By way of complete contrast, earlier in the week it played host to Supervisjón, a mixed media event featuring sax, trombone, glitchy synth and some extraordinary vocalese, all played out in front of early 1980s amateur films. You had to be there in the moment, of course, but there was often a flinty beauty to this extraordinary, improvised music, the trombone blasts recalling the songs of lonely Atlantic whales; and the ‘bone and sax creating a real sense of rhythmic power.

Arnold Ludvig is perhaps the Faroes’ leading bassist, and, it seems, a one-man music scene – I saw him no fewer than five times at the festival, playing with different acts including the aforementioned Plúmm; but also with his own excellent Quintet (at Blábar) and sophisticated swingers Soulglottar. The former featured an excellent sax and flute frontline (from Simon Spang-Hanssen and Mariane Bitran respectively) which combined splendidly on numbers such as ‘Midnight Lullaby’ and ‘Desire’; the group weren’t afraid to funk it up on ‘Iceland’. Especially outstanding was guitarist Alain Apaloo from Togo, whose sinuous, supple and lean lines I’d encounter again later in the week. His super-fluid, almost Jerry Garcia-like playing on the encore number ‘Tough Going’ left one craving more, so it was fortunate we’d see more of him soon.

The latter Ludvig-led group, featuring the vocal talents of Dania O Tausen, were playing at the swanky Hilton hotel. Tausen sings in a mixture of Faroese and English, and is effortlessly adept at both; the versions of ‘Black Coffee’ and ‘It’s A Good Day’, sung in her native tongue, really worked, as did her Faroese originals, which were strong on memorable melodies; linguistic comprehension, or lack thereof, proved to be no barrier to enjoyment. Indeed, Faroese is an expressive, easy-on-the-ear singing language The show’s highlight was the brilliantly witty duet ‘Droppa Alt’, which used the tune of the Gershwins’ ‘Let’s Call The Whole Thing Off’ to highlight different Faroese dialects. The solos from Ludvig’s slick band were perfectly judged, and the group as a whole were majestic on a gently swinging ‘Stella By Starlight’.

Back at Oy Brewery were the Yuval Ron Trio: clad in NASA uniforms, and bombastic and loud, they reminded me of pro-rockers Rush and King Crimson; they were at their best when they were being more spacey and open, letting the textures of their sound breathe.  

Mid-morning Saturday, and to Tórshavn’s beautiful cathedral – no bigger than most UK parish churches – for a concert by the Katrina Petersen Quintet. Backed by a gifted crew of pianist/synth player, bassist, drummer and percussionist, Petersen is a singer and composer of some talent, and the cathedral’s superb acoustics highlighted the almost sacral quality of her music; her songs, sung mostly in Faroese and drawing heavily on local folk traditions, have a stillness to them, and make good use of space and texture: ‘Snow Sometimes’ (on which Petersen also played piano) was an exemplar of her unique approach. The ballad ‘Where Should I Go’ as sensitive and moving, and a couple of old Bulgaian folk songs, repurposed as laments, work beautifully in the church setting. She is not afraid to swing, though, as on ‘The Day I See You’ with its samba feel, and ‘Close Your Sleepy Eyes’ with its trad-jazz tropes; and the closing number, the jaunty bop ‘Let’s Call It A Day’

The big draw of the festival (at Tórshavn’s largest venue, Nordic House) was the multi-national group Api Pipo, led by the aforementioned Alain Apaloo and featuring US legend Kurt Rosenwinkel (above) on guitar. The 10-piece ensemble merged frenetic Afrobeat, clattering polyrhythms, irresistible horns, choppy guitar, pounding percussion and fruity flutes with Kurt’s lean, steely lines; despite being the best-known name here, he played unselfishly, always allowing his bandmates to shine. And when the band played Rosenwinkel tunes – such as ‘Standing There’ – they returned the favour. The sunny, upbeat nature of the music was in stark contrast to the cold and gloom outside. The crowd went, understandably, wild.