Category: LP


PERPETUAL MOTION w/ Sigurður Guðjónsson

PERPETUAL MOTION is the soundtrack to Sigurður Guðjónsson’s multisensory sculpture created for the 59 International Art Exhibition – La Biennale di Venezia, and presented at the Icelandic Pavilion in Arsenale, Venice.
Extremely limited, one-off pressing PERPETUAL MOTION is available on Audio Cassette and Digital Download exclusively via Bandcamp.*

The interplay of sound and vision features throughout Guðjónsson’s oeuvre. The artist uses intricate soundscapes as the foundation of his works, drawing out the acoustic properties of his visual investigations to create a stronger link to the subject matter. Perpetual Motion features a visceral, 45 minute long soundtrack delivered in ‘vertical stereo’ which was co-created by the artist himself and Valgeir Sigurðsson.

The artwork offers a poetic exploration of materiality at the edge of the boundaries of perception, powerfully combining moving images and sound to activate the space and create an entrancing, meditative experience for visitors.


Sigurður Guðjónsson is best known for his striking time-based media works that often focus on man-made machinery and technical relics, investigating their enigmatic, hidden elements just beyond our field of vision. The artist experiments with camera lenses, perspective, light, and motion, amplifying and observing these forms and the transformations that take place as they interact with their environment. Perpetual Motion is staged as a split screen installation, with a six-metre-high vertical screen connected to a large-scale floor projection that occupies most of the exhibition space. The screens depict the constant drift of metal dust, amplified and magnified through the artist’s camera lens. Visitors can immerse themselves in the movement of the abstract material, as it warps and distorts, suggesting new shapes and imagery such as the surface of an outermost planet. Perpetual Motion’s visceral soundtrack responds to the granulated texture of the matter in the moving images using stacked electronic sounds that have been manipulated via granular synthesis. The soundscape fills the Pavilion and envelops visitors as they enter the artwork, forging a deeper connection with the frequencies of the metal dust as it moves and pulsates across the screens’ surface.

Icelandic Pavilion
59 International Art Exhibition –
of La Biennale di Venezia

*no streaming option available for this release.

released MAY 4, 2022


Written & Produced by

Artwork by

Typesetting by
STUDIO STUDIO (Arnar Freyr Guðmundsson, Birna Geirfinnsdóttir)




KVIKA is the brand new album by Valgeir Sigurðsson. The music was used as the score for the wartime film MALÁ RÍŠA (Little Kingdom) by Slovakian director Peter Magát, and is now released as written on the composer’s own Bedroom Community label, performed by the Slovak Philharmonic Orchestra, Bohdan Warchal Slovak Chamber Orchestra, The University Choir Technik, and a number of Valgeir’s close collaborators from previous projects, including violinist Daniel Pioro.

KVIKA is the Icelandic word for magma – the molten mantle of the earth that sits below Iceland in giant reserves, prehistoric reservoirs of heat simmering away beneath stoic, frozen landscapes. This record is formed from 21 thoughtful musical stills, isolated feelings captured in sound in which low end modular synth manipulation on a tectonic scale pulses and moves swiftly to underpin Pioro’s soaring solo violin and Valgeir’s cinematic arrangements. The sound is experimental, utterly beautiful, and unmistakably his.

Valgeir has become a master of sound to get lost in. Through his layering of his collaborators’ instrumental and vocal parts and a nuanced balance of electronic and organic sound, KVIKA is a perfect collection of moments that last only as long as they need before taking us elsewhere. After his award winning album Dissonance, it is a measure of his artistic inclinations that he looks to a shorter form of music making. Where Dissonance overwhelmed the ear with subterranean noise, sounds that seemed to last forever, KVIKA shimmers above the earth, fleeting and momentary.

“In a world that can give the impression of having left organic matter and acoustic sound behind, it is a privilege to hear Valgeir´s use of strings that sing with such an improvised and raw quality.” – Daniel Pioro .


An Acceptable Loss – OST



Daniel Pioro: Violin
Liam Byrne: Viola da gamba
Borgar Magnason: Contrabass
Francesco Fabris: Modular Synth, Bass Guitar, Organ, Processing
Valgeir Sigurðsson: Keyboards, Electronics, Percussion
Co-produced by Francesco Fabris
Arranged, mixed & by Valgeir Sigurðsson
Recorded at Greenhouse Studios, Reykjavík by Francesco Fabris & Valgeir Sigurðsson
Additional recording by Adam McDaniel.
Assistants: Barney Lynch & Fabien Roucoux
Artwork: “Drave”
Photo Marino Thorlacius
Additional Image Processing Eoin French
Design Sruli Recht for Norlan

* “1875”
Taken from the album DISSONANCE (HVALUR28)
Performed by Reykjavík Sinfonia & Valgeir Sigurðsson
Courtesy of Bedroom Community © 2017
Published by Faber Music Ltd.


The County (Héraðið) – OST

Valgeir SigurðssonThe County

The Original Motion Picture Soundtrack to The County, with music by Valgeir Sigurðsson, released by Bedroom Community on January 10th 2020.

The drama had its world premiere at the Toronto International Film Festival in September and was screened in the Contemporary World Cinema section. The County is the follow-up to Grímur Hákonarson’s Festival de Cannes Award-winning debut Rams and stars actors Arndís Hrönn Egilsdóttir, Sveinn Ólafur Gunnarsson, as well as Þorsteinn Bachmann.

“Director Grímur Hákonarson and I have worked together a few times in the past, so it helped that we already had a dialog and a fluidity in the way we work together. First I watched the film a few times, and then I turned off the screen and just wrote music in response to what I had seen. I often do this because I want to make a score that flows with its own narrative. On Grímur’s suggestion, we used a lot of synths and electronic textures, and also used some of the real sounds from the film for the score. There is an obnoxious milking-robot that features quite heavily, as well as other sounds from around the farm and the environments that I also managed to incorporate into the score. Then, I also recorded a lot of solo strings that I was really excited about, but mostly didn’t need to be in the film once the images were turned back on. In the final mix I think we cut about 50% of the score that I had completed, or more even, we agreed fully on all the cuts. But, on the soundtrack release I keep many of these elements because they informed my process and I feel that they are integral to the music and necessary when it is stripped of the images it was created for” – Valgeir Sigurðsson, composer.

Coming up in 2020, Valgeir will perform his captivating music at the famous Big Ears Festival in Knoxville, TN featuring acts like Patti Smith, A Winged Victory for the Sullen, Kronos Quartet, amongst others. The singular festival experience explores connections between musicians and artists, effortlessly crossing the boundaries of musical genres as well as artistic disciplines.



Essay by Paul Morley

I have been wondering what to call the music on Dissonance, Valgeir  Sigurðsson’s intoxicating, reflective fourth album, released ten years after he formed the adventurous music collective Bedroom Community. It seems easy to some extent to give Dissonance and the way it mixes noise and sound a label that makes a certain classifying sense, even for music that is made in direct, elusive opposition to the limiting, spoiling restrictions of classification, music not made to belong anywhere in particular, or music made to belong somewhere in a future not yet determined.

Dissonance is post-minimalist, post-ambient or post-something else, or it is plainly, fantastically electronic, the ever-evolving sound of the ever-evolving machine age. Or it is the kind of classical music someone would produce who grew up a fan of the more glamorously weird, outsider pop, who became obsessed in the recording studio that became his workshop with the processes and principles of the remix, and then discovered a history of instrumental music – music beginning where words end –  from Bach and Brahms to Cage and Adams, and then there is no stopping him, from listening and discovering, and transforming and recontextualising it into his own music and the inquisitive, campaigning creation of lucid sonic effect.

I can think of Dissonance as classical music – a striving for vivid and stable but rearranging order in a disordered world – made by a composer who has learnt, because of the varied collaborations he has been involved in and because of his own natural inclinations, to work with acoustic instruments as a romantic conceptualist and scientist and with electronics as a time traveller and poetic collagist.

He loves working out how the electronic and the acoustic should touch each other, and belong together, in the way composers have for years been exploring the relationship between instruments. He’s not afraid to distort, and treat, and take outside itself, the idea, the routines and ‘steady-state’, of classical music. It is a post-digital, post-virtual classical music produced in an era of dizzying infinite choice. But it’s more, much more, than that.

It is definitely multi-dimensional music which exists in a post-chronological musical network where you can find an entire volatile history of electronic music from the late 50s to the right now, and over there, through the mist, through all sorts of mystery, Ligeti’s Atmospheres, Bach’s organ music, Bartok’s Fourth and Fifth String Quartets, Berg’s Lyric Suite, late Beethoven Quartets, Webern’s Bagatelles . . . like all great music it is a portal through which you enter to find other great music and certain, favourite art it is made to sound like – Mark Rothko’s veils of paint, the physical sensation of time, Richard Serra’s epic fragments of industry, the monumental structural insertions into daily life, resounding abstract shapes shaping everyday experience, the innate poetry that lies within an exploration of mundane materials.

Dissonance is named, partly, because of Mozart’s String Quartet No. 19 in C Major, K465, the notorious so called ‘Dissonance’ Quartet completed in January, 1785. Early published scores were returned to the printers, because the harmonies in the introduction seemed to some to be a mistake creating near cacophony, an accidental or absent minded omission of violin notes on Mozart’s part not a deliberate, visionary attempt to produce a particular, radically unnerving spatial effect.  And it’s named partly because these are anxious, stressful times, and there is a suggestion, often emerging from investigations of the pleasure and purpose of music through a Mozart prism, that music helps us tolerate cognitive dissonances and aids accumulation of knowledge and cultural evolution.

Valgeir Sigurðsson admits he is feeling certain pressure and emotional turbulence himself – private, local pressures, a growing family and new responsibilities, creative challenges, artistic demands, a general sense of personal and cultural vertigo, a feeling of almost grief caused by a crazed, darkening reality, a disintegrating, hardening culture and all sorts of tensions and excesses.  He is feeling both distant from the modern world and profoundly connected to it, severed from it and bound to it; one of those many in-between spaces he roams through as musician, producer, listener and artist on a continuous journey meditating on the fluidity of sound, searching for some kind of magic and illumination and sounds that seem so pure they seem to be singing for the first time.

On Dissonance he is also occupying the spaces between the heightened melancholy and fearful darkness of so-called early music, and the positive, fluid visions of contemporary composed, programmed and designed electronic music, where the most absorbing, thrilling new speculative music has landed the other side of the conventional classical classifications, the fractured other side of all those centuries of time and space. All those centuries, all that life and art, fear and wonder, love and hate, whispers and screams, all those progressions and inventions, arrivals and departures, dreams and disappointments, and how little the human experience has actually changed, as it constantly dissolves into an isolation that Dissonance reflects through a tenuous balance between evocation and abstraction.

Sigurðsson, a master of sound, hears further and deeper than most, and his music forms out of geography, mythology and imaginative memory, out of love and fear. The meaning and drama of the music is contained within the compositions themselves, not where the music might or not belong within a scene, or genre, or location. I still wonder what to call it, for the sake of breaking it out of a place, rather than fixing it in place, to perhaps surprise myself with what I come up with.

The music he makes is, perhaps, spectacular northern music, from up and out there, where all forms of psychic and physical protection becomes completely necessary faced with the weather, and the isolation, and the secretive, disorientating movements of the invisible.

It is uncanny, stark soul music, where the composer emphatically takes control of reality, rejects rules, and finds spiritual freedom. It is fiendish, active folk, where the music becomes the site of an existential encounter with reality. It is a mysterious sort of exotic, electrical and mystical country music, as old as the hills, at the racing edge of the fragile future, remembering things that haven’t happened yet, featuring distressed, charred rhythms, a subdued relentlessness, its own distinct mood and haunting, provocative power.

It is music made to acknowledge, and confront, apocalyptic times. Music holding on to vital inner life despite all the external phenomena clamouring for attention and the complex music realities of our present century. Music that begins, because it must, and then becomes something new waiting to be discovered by those who look to music to help them move through the world from one place to another, and stay safe, and ready for what happens next. It doesn’t matter what it’s called; it matters that it exists.

– Paul Morley




Press Release

History freely dilates and collapses on Valgeir Sigurðsson’s Dissonance, his first solo release since 2012. Its three large-scale works are haunted by the old Western tradition, infused with the ethereal workings of electronics and sound manipulation.Dissonance treads elegantly along a fine line between traditional symphonic organicism and the fissures of the faltering structures of reality. It takes forward Sigurðsson’s typically expansive, panoramic writing, and elevates it to a perpetual construction and deconstruction of time and space.

These are hardly his first experiments with the archaic technology of classical instruments, but here the distance between past and present is precisely what the music itself is designed to explore, and to distort.

Recorded and produced between September 2015 and November 2016 at Greenhouse Studios, Dissonance is disarmingly human, reflecting the most extreme four years of Sigurðsson’s life full of ecstatic joy and deep sorrow. Dissonance is a personal and collective musical treatise to explore and question a world that is collapsing under its internal dissonances.

The recording process on Dissonance incorporates an orchestral recording technique that Sigurðsson has been developing for some years now, where he breaks up the orchestra and records each of its sections separately. Layer after layer he records performances by collaborators Liam Byrne and Reykjavík Sinfonia. A handful of string players and just one of each of the orchestra’s instruments are then multiplied to create an imaginary orchestra. This method enables Sigurðsson’s complete control over all the details and nuances, and the trade-off for the time-consuming process is a truly unique sounding ensemble that is at the composer’s disposal for further electronic manipulation. This also results in an elastic palette of sound for the live performance version of Dissonance which Sigurðsson will take to the stage in 2017, alongside Liam Byrne (on strings) and visuals created by the Antivj collective.


released April 21, 2017

Written by Valgeir Sigurðsson

Dissonance arranged by Liam Byrne and Valgeir Sigurðsson (after W.A. Mozart)

Additional production and electronics on * by Paul Corley

Liam Byrne played the manifold Viola da Gamba on Dissonance

Electronics by Valgeir Sigurðsson

No Nights Dark Enough & Eighteen Hundred & Seventy-five Performed by Reykjavík Sinfonia:

Flute, Piccalo Flute: Melkorka Ólafsdóttir
Oboe: Daði Kolbeinsson
Clarinet & Bass Clarinet: Rúnar Óskarsson
Bassoon: Michael Kaularts
Trumpet: Guðmundur Hafsteinsson
French Horn: Stefán Jón Bernharðsson
Trombone: Sigurður Þorbergsson
Tuba: Ron Nimrod
1st violin: Ari Þór Vilhjálmsson
2nd violin: Pálína Árnadóttir
Viola: Þórunn Ósk Marínósdóttir
Cello: Sigurður Bjarki Gunnarsson
Contrabass: Borgar Magnason
Harp: Katie Buckley
Percussion: Frank Aarnik
Piano: Tinna Þorsteinsdóttir

Produced, Mixed & Mastered by Valgeir Sigurðsson

Engineered by Paul Evans and Valgeir Sigurðsson
Edited by Paul Evans

Executed at Greenhouse Studios, Reykjavík

Photography: Brendan Canty & Colm O’ Herlihy,
Graphic design by Francis Redman


No Nights Dark Enough commissioned by Spitalfields Festival, London. First performance by City of London Sinfonia & Hugh Brunt 2014
This recording contains a portion of the work.
Eighteen Hundred & Seventy-five commissioned by Winnipeg New Music Festival. First performance given by the Winnipeg Symphony Orchestra & Alexander Mickelthwate 2013


The all hearing advisory board; Paul Corley, Liam Byrne, Paul Evans, Ben Frost, Nico Muhly.

Thank you, Bedroom Community & Greenhouse teams, & every single intern, past and present.
Robin Rimbaud, everyone at Spitalfields Festival, everyone at New Music Festival Winnipeg,

Published by Faber Music Publishing Ltd.

This is a Bedroom Community record.

℗&© 2017 Bedroom Community


Architecture of Loss

1. Guard Down
2. The Crumbling
3. World Without Ground
4. Between Monuments
5. Guardian at the Door
6. Erased Duet
7. Reverse Erased
8. Big Reveal
9. Plainsong
10. Gone Not Forgotten

The parameters of musical possibility are vast on Valgeir Sigurðsson’s third LP; Architecture of Loss. The music flows from no “notes” at all to lyrical, folk-like melody, from spare, acoustic sound to dense digital intervention. Originally composed for the same titled ballet by Stephen Petronio. Architecture of Loss is a powerful work in its own right in which Valgeir works from a broad palette of absences.By deploying an array of digital processes, a small, flexible ensemble and pared- down musical materials, the music can pivot instantly into someplace radically different. The viola hangs onto a single note, for instance, then transforms that note into a scraping, rasping effect. That transformation from pure tone to pure gesture ripples through the fiddle’s electronic multiples until the whole texture has turned inside out; a spare, sputtering, abstract electronic beat yields to the shaggy sounds of a few live drums or vice versa. The result is what sounds like a completely different piece of music.The performers were handpicked from trusted Bedroom Community regulars: in addition to Valgeir himself and composer/keyboardist Nico Muhly, the album features violist Nadia Sirota – her sound is as deeply individual and immediately recognizable as the sound of her speaking voice and takes full possession of the notes on the page—and multi-instrumentalist Shahzad Ismaily – a secret weapon of a sideman who excels at exactly the things you can’t put down on paper, from solid grooves to scribbles of noise.

The resulting piece maintains a structural unity surpassing either of Valgeir’s previous, more formally open LPs. While his solo debut Ekvílibríum boasted singers like Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy and Dawn McCarthy, the voice of that record was unmistakably Valgeir’s own. On his second solo disc – the soundtrack to the film Draumalandið – the suite of movements released on disc enjoyed an aesthetic life of its own independent of the finished film. Draumalandið and Ekvílibríum were allowed to develop freely as recording projects whereas Architecure of Loss had to be realized with physical performance in mind, by its players and dancers.

This album represents the piece as conceived and reconceived for the stage, and then reconceived again as pure music (the movement “Gone, Not Forgotten,” for instance, is exclusive to this recording). Created, pored over and developed: the result is a meticulously designed structure, a sound architecture of musical and physical gestures and stillnesses.

“The music […] can sound chill and eerie: there’s singing, echoing, rasping, crackling. At times, the piano emits single, spaced-out notes that sound like water dripping resoundingly on ice in a momentary thaw” -Arts Journal

“Hypnotic” -New York Press

“A spare, melancholy, original score” -Solomons Says

“Cool and haunting” -danceviewtimes


released September 24, 2012Composed, produced, recorded & mixed by Valgeir Sigurðsson

Shahzad Ismaily; percussion, bass guitar, guitars, aquaphone, banjo, vocal, synthesizers
Nadia Sirota; viola
Nico Muhly; piano
Valgeir Sigurðsson; electronics, piano, baritone guitar, programming, percussion
Helgi Hrafn Jónsson; trombone

Recorded at Greenhouse Studios, Reykjavík
Studio manager; Sturla Mio Þórisson
Additional Engineering; Paul Evans
Assistants; Luke Howard, Alexander Overington & Einar Stefánsson
Score preparation; Petter Ekman, Alexander Overington

Artwork & design by Ivan Khmelevsky
Portrait photography by Thomas Humery

For Sigga Sunna

Thank you
Stephen Petronio, Urd Johannessen, Ryan Kelly, The Chiara Quartet
Ben Frost, Daníel Bjarnason, Hildur Maral Hamíðsdóttir, Gabríel Dagur



Valgeir Sigurðsson has made his name as an exponent of musical subtlety. As an engineer and producer, he’s often focused on the intimate, the miniature. On his solo debut Ekvílibríum, his songwriting and composition tended towards the muted or the oblique. His best-known work is punctuated with question marks and ellipses, and not so many exclamation points.
But this is only one side of his musical capabilites. Draumalandið (“Dreamland”), a documentary about the exploitation of Iceland’s natural resources, tells a story about huge things—the fortunes of a whole nation; the destruction of vast landscapes; and the global economic forces, greater still than any nation, that fuel it all—and for his soundtrack to the film, Valgeir has brought out a heavier set of tools. His entire roster of Bedroom Community labelmates contributes in some way to the creation of the score: classical composers Nico Muhly and Daníel Bjarnason, industrial wizard Ben Frost, and American folksinger Sam Amidon, along with a host of others, and the small orchestra assembled for the record swells from moments of expansive beauty into massive, surging symphonic force. Its harmonies are anxious, pulsing, driven.
Not that this is an album lacking in subtlety. Draumalandið the film takes on the delicate task of unmasking the apparent win/win proposition of Iceland’s aluminum smelting boom—clean energy! new jobs! economic growth!—as a false blessing with very real consequences. Likewise, Draumalandið the soundtrack takes global, at times seemingly abstract questions, and offers deeply personal responses.
Valgeir’s score makes fierce and direct statements of sorrow and indignation, but it also expresses, with a kind of hushed awe, the beauty of landscapes on the brink of devastation, and the seductive shimmer of the illusions that imperil them. Tender, fragmented melodies rise out of uncanny musical textures; in the album’s opening track, Sam sings “Grýlukvæði,” an Icelandic folktune about a greedy hag come to devour naughty children, just as he would an Appalachian ballad, and in turn Valgeir reframes it as a sad, sympathetic reprimand to a people (Icelanders, yes, but by extension all of humanity) who would sell their birthright to a rapacious multinational.
This is all painted in brushstrokes broad and minute, from palette of hugely varied shades—Sam’s banjo playing, Daníel’s John Cage-style piano treatments, Ben’s halos of distortion—but somehow, it all fits together as a coherent musical argument. Heard as an accompaniment to the film, the Draumalandið score can disappear into the images and the narrative. Listened to on its own, it rewards close attention: for the subtle interconnections between the movements, for their cumulative emotional force, and simply as a series of meticulously scored and recorded musical moments, urgent meditations on the natural sublime.



released February 22, 2010

Performed by
Valgeir Sigurðsson Prepared piano, percussion, bass, programming, rhodes
Nico Muhly Piano, harmonium, celesta, dulcitone
Sam Amidon Acoustic guitar, banjo, vocals on Grýlukvæði
Ben Frost  Programming & processing on Grýlukvæði, Nowhere Land & Helter Smelter
Paul Corley Programming on Hot Ground, Cold

Nadia Sirota Viola
Hildur I Guðnadóttir Cello
Borgar Magnason Double bass

Violin Una Sveinbjarnardóttir, Sigrún Eðvaldsdóttir, Ingrid Karlsdóttir, Kristín Björg Ragnarsdóttir, Rósa Hrund Guðmundsdóttir
Cello Hrafnkell Orri Egilsson, Júlía Mogensen, Sigurgeir Agnarsson,
Double Bass Borgar Magnason, Óttar Sæmundsen
Harp Katie Buckley
Bassoon Rebekka Bryndís Björnsdóttir
French Horn Sturlaugur Jón Björnsson, Emil Friðfinnsson
Trombone Samúel Jón Samúelsson
Marimba, Percussion Frank Aarnink

Piano prepared by Daníel Bjarnason
Sampled & edited by Sturla Mio Þórisson
Kontakt instruments built by Paul Evans

Hank Drum made by 7oi,  courtesy of Matthew Collings (thanks!)

Produced, arranged & mixed by Valgeir Sigurðsson

Orchestrated, arranged & conducted by Nico Muhly

Composed by Valgeir Sigurðsson (Pollination Music Publishing). Except Grýlukvæði traditional, arranged by Sam Amidon, Ben Frost, Nico Muhly & Valgeir Sigurðsson. Past Tundra composed by Valgeir Sigurðsson & Nico Muhly.

Recorded, mixed & mastered by Valgeir Sigurðsson at Greenhouse Studios, Reykjavík
Studio manager: Sturla Mio Þórisson
Additional engineering by Sturla Mio Þórisson, Ben Frost, Paul Evans & Paul Corley
Hildur I Guðnadóttir recorded her cello at home, in Berlin.

Photography by Pétur Thomsen – “AL3_26d” from the series Imported Landscape
Graphic design by Pierre Marly

Thank you:
Andri Snær Magnason, Hanna Björk Valsdóttir, Sigurður Gísli Pálmason & Þorfinnur Guðnason.

The Greenhouse & Bedroom Community teams!
Everyone who played, listened and helped make this album happen.

For making everything possible and all things worthwhile:
Sigríður Sunna Reynisdóttir, Gabríel Dagur Valgeirsson.

This is a Bedroom Community Record



released September 11, 2007

Produced, Recorded & Mixed by Valgeir Sigurðsson

Additional recording / studio assistant Sturla ‘Míó’ Þórisson
Score preparation Nico Muhly
Mixed and mastered at Greenhouse Studios, Reykjavík
Recorded at Greenhouse Studios / various studios and random locations.
Thanks to everyone who provided a space!

Paintings by Merrilee Challiss
Image processing by Sturla ‘Míó’ Þórisson
Portrait photograhy by Charlie Strand
Graphic design by Ritxi / Acknowledgments: Ben Frost -for listening, reflecting and pushing me. Sigga Sunna -fyrir hjartað og jafnvægið. Míó -fyrir allt, alltaf. Gabríel Dagur -ofurhetja. Nico -for the spark and mastery. Will Oldham -for encouraging and transcending. Stephen Budd & Jo Beckett -for the unconditional support. Björk -fyrir Fókus og innblástur. Fjölskylda, vinir, friends & collaborators through the years, everyone who contributed to this album: TAKK+THANK YOU!!!