Taktfakt was an otherworldly techno experience

The first thing I notice as I step out of Reykjavík airport is the air. A deathly early start and subsequent trudge through the polluted fog of London to Gatwick airport had me feeling less than fresh, but now the crispness of the Icelandic atmosphere sends a revitalising shock through my body more effective than any caffeine concoction.

As I scan the horizon and fully take in the new surroundings, my travel fatigue all but dissipates. The views are already breath-taking without having left the car park. Azure blue sky stretches to the end of the earth until it meets the inky outline of mountains and dissolves into a soft orangey shimmer, unblemished in between but for the floating mist of fading jet trails. The sun provides little warmth to the brisk air, but shines brightly, illuminating winding roads flanked by fields of contrasting pale green shrubbery and charcoal soil. Even the crudely shaped rocks that lay strewn across the landscape seem to carry the intrinsic might of the volcanoes that formed them.

The impact of the country’s beauty doesn’t diminish over the course of the weekend. My mouth hangs slightly agape throughout the three days I spend in the capital city and surrounding countryside, acquainting myself with the Icelandic underground and experiencing the debut Taktfakt festival.

Taktfakt is the name under which Carmen Jóhannsdóttir has been throwing parties since 2011. This weekend marks her most ambitious celebration yet. The main event is a 12-hour techno rave in a cave on the glistening shore of Lake Kleifarvatn in the Reykjanesskagi peninsula, while a number of more low-key pre- and post- shindigs takes place across venues in Reykjavík.

Considering its size, Iceland produces a staggering amount of artistic talent. The likes of Björk and Sigur Rós are international superstars, but bubbling away under the surface there’s a healthy underground gradually gaining momentum as interest in dance music rises across Europe. Taktfakt aims to shine a spotlight on it. A focus on local talent underpins the line-up, with only one foreign act invited to fill the headline slot.

“Icelandic DJs are among the best in the world. They work hard and usually they need to keep the crowd going for 6 hour long sets, in most cases for shit money,” says Carmen, adding “their pure love for music shines through. They deserve the world's attention and I intend to make that happen.”

The small-size but healthy state of the music community becomes apparent as I tour Reykjavík with Carmen’s partner Daníel Ágúst Haraldsson, frontman of longstanding electronica group GusGus who have released on labels such as 4AD and Kompakt in their acclaimed career. He knows everyone, and we constantly stop to talk to various people involved in the city’s scene, from event photographers to buskers, including a teenager producing some impressive sounds on a streetside synthesizer.

“Iceland is one of the harshest places to live. We have to lock ourselves away and be creative,” Daníel tells me. It’s bright today, but I become aware I’ve come at a lucky time. There was only ten sunny days in total last year he reveals, and art provides a much-needed escape from a dark reality for the residents of the island.

I get my first taste of the action at Friday night’s pre-party in recently opened spot Tivoli Bar in downtown Reykjavík. From the outside it appears quaint and unassuming with yellow corrugated walls and residential-looking windows. The inside is more flash, accessorised with faux-crystal chandeliers and quilted padding around the bar and booth.

While the interior is posh, the music upstairs is murky and uncompromising, with OHM and LaFontaine both moving through dark and propulsive cuts of techno, the latter drawing for DJ Koze’s ‘Bad Kingdom’ remix early into his set which tears through the system emphatically.

The music downstairs is lighter. This is done purposefully to draw in passing trade, and then “you can go hard when people get drunk and fucked up,” LaFontaine tells me. “But techno is becoming cool again in Iceland!” he quickly adds. Tivoli Bar feels like it’s caught between two worlds slightly, reflective of a burgeoning scene that needs to retain some outside appeal. The makings of a great club are there with good DJs, solid sound and some passionately gyrating bodies, but the décor is slightly jarring and it seems a chunk of the clientele are there as a place to drink not to dance. It’s like Corsica Studios moved west and given a Mayfair makeover, with men in suits dotted about the dancefloor.

While there I meet some more of the artists playing Taktfakt, and I’m invited to the studio of a production duo named Hidden People. It’s the dead of night as we make the short walk along the coastline, but it’s as light as the nicest summer’s evening in Britain.

Hidden People comprises Kári Guðmundsson and Siggi Blöndal. Kári put out several releases on UK dubstep labels Ramp and Teal Recordings across 2010 to 2012 as Hypno, but now the pairing are pushing a deeper house sound, flecked with acidic undertones and lo-fi ambient haze.

The demos they play me are brilliantly constructed, swelling with warm textures and immersive melodies. They’ve had release interest from European heavyweights, but shied away from the outside attention, wanting to do their own thing through their NONYOBIZ records imprint. Nina Kraviz has been heralded for ostensibly unearthing the likes of Bjarki and Exos from Iceland recently, but there’s plenty more talent bursting at the seams of the spacious country that deserves recognition.

Lake Kleifarvatn is situated about 40 minutes from Reykjavík, nestled on a fissure point in the Mid-Atlantic ridge. I board the shuttle bus to the spot on Saturday evening, taking my place among the rows of locals prepared with woolly hats and thermal coats. Our destination is no sweatbox.

Wind bites at exposed skin as we depart the coach and enter the expansive beach-cum-dancefloor, but the sights are once again something to behold. The large body of water ripples gently and mountains tower around the circumference, while the lake’s reflection adds a blue tinge to the vista.

Taktfakt taps into this natural setting, feeding off the intrinsic connection Icelanders have with the landscape. The bar is a jetty that stretches into the water, and a fishing net hooks ice-cold cans from a trap below the surface. A cave at the rear of the beach serves as an awe-inspiring stage. Jagged rockface encircles a makeshift dancefloor, locking in the Funktion-One powered sound.

It’s there that OHM and LaFontaine both thrill punters for the second day running. The former counts releases on esteemed labels such as Force Inc. and RAWAX among his discography, and he draws from this pool to work the system with some ferocious cuts, while the latter throws in cleaner, more progressive sounds such as KiNK’s ‘Cloud Generator’.

GusGus receive the strongest reaction of the day, raising spirits with soaring, vocal-led electronica. Daníel and fellow singer Högni Egilsson’s voices interlock emotively, and both men are engaging performers, pulling out eccentric dance moves. Thule Records boss Thor later highlights why his label is enjoying so much success of late, transfixing the crowd with seminal dub techno records from its rich catalogue.

Elsewhere, Hidden People craft their live tinkerings outside the cave on the beach stage. The wide-open area is less conducive to trapping in atmosphere, but the sounds they construct are beautifully arranged. I’d left the duo at 6am that morning as they knuckled down to finish working on the set, and am impressed at how tight they’ve got it.

Rolling Ones, Tin Man and Jordan’s collaborative project, is the foreign headline act that closes out the night, drafted in at a day’s notice after K-Hand was forced to cancel in an impressive feat of crisis management from the organisers. As the sun dips and a chill sets in, dancers begin congregating around fires. Flames flicker, friends huddle in contented bliss, and strangers form connections and bond. The combination of music and setting makes the atmosphere otherworldly.

Tin Man and Jordan are vague figures in the distance, rolling out a banging soundtrack with selections like Motor City Drum Ensemble’s bassline dub of DJ Sprinkles’ ‘Grand Central, Part 1’. There are few people actively watching the pair at this point, but their set is enjoyed as it washes over the heads of blanket-wrapped campfire circles, ending the festival on a deeply intimate note.

Iceland has made news this year for its political elite's use of offshore tax havens, but on this day out in the wild Taktfakt constructed an onshore techno haven on the edge of Kleifarvatn, and proclaimed the artistic merit of the country's underground loud and clear in magical surroundings. If you think dance music should be exclusively heard in dark, sweaty basements, think again.

Patrick Hinton is Mixmag's Digital Intern, follow him on Twitter