Jósef Zachariassen: A musical journey to the remote churches of the Faroe Islands
Music, perhaps more so than any other art form, is universal. From the remote indigenous tribes of the rainforest to the youth clubs of the United Kingdom, music can be found in every corner of our world. For me, living in a vibrant city like Leeds, it is far too easy to become blinkered by a local music scene; you almost forget that there is an entirely different musical landscape out there, just waiting to be discovered. So, in search of something slightly different, I boarded a flight heading north to the remote and picturesque archipelago of the Faroe Islands.
My musical obsession has taken me to countless different places over the course of my life. I have spent many an evening standing in the backroom of a pub listening to some cookie-cutter post-punk band moan about modern life. Until now, though, my love of live music had never taken me overseas. As I sat on the plane, with the Scottish highlands thousands of feet below me, I could not help but feel that this trip was pretty bizarre, even for me. Ultimately, though, when a record label contacts you and asks if you want to go and see a man called Jósef Zachariassen play in an ancient church on a remote island, it is difficult to refuse.
Zachariassen was born and bred in the Faroe Islands before relocating to nearby Norway to study in Oslo. However, the budding young pianist and composer soon grew tired of the intensity of life in the city. So, back in 2022, Zachariassen abandoned his life in Norway, escaping to the remote Faroese island of Fugloy – the northernmost island in the archipelago – and shutting himself away in an ancient church building. As is inevitable for an artist as prolific as Zachariassen, this strange setting quickly provided a wealth of artistic inspiration and eventually culminated in an entire album, Fugloy, to be released via the Faroese independent label Tutl Records.
The Faroe Islands have had a solid connection to music going back hundreds of years to the ‘Kvæð’ ballads of the Middle Ages. Since 1977, though, Tutl has been keeping that legacy alive by fostering local artists of all different genres. Prior to heading to Zachariassen’s gig – which would prove more difficult than expected – I thought it only fitting to make a stop at Tutl, where I was introduced to its founder, Kristian Blak. Upon talking, Blak revealed that Tutl had formed a jazz club on the island, which he had set up. “I didn’t want to live on an island without a jazz club,” he told me. I felt as though I was in safe hands.
Fugloy, the island which first inspired Zachariassen, was chosen as the venue for this elaborate album launch show. Unfortunately, though, the rough seas of the Faroe Islands meant that the one boat that makes the journey to the island could not sail. Instead, a small church in the village of Hvannasund was chosen.
Although I was disappointed not to be travelling to a gig via a boat, Hvannasund was still suitably remote. In fact, the journey there featured an extensive single-track tunnel through a mountain, and I was very nearly late to the concert as the mountain road was blocked by some particularly mardy sheep, who seemed to view my rental Nissan as some kind of threat to their idyllic countryside life. I could see it in their eyes: “This is a local road for local people. There’s nothing for you here.”
After some admittedly very skilled driving, I eventually made it to the venue. The churches I am used to in West Yorkshire are usually dark, gothic, and made of stone that has since been stained with soot. As a result, this beautiful wooden building, located on the ocean between two mountains and finished in a red and white colour scheme, felt otherworldly—as if I had travelled to another universe in which the devastating effects of industrialisation never happened.
Zacaharisassen was at the head of the building, alongside a cast of three other musicians and a crowd composed of Faroese music fans and the local residents of Hvannasund. A concert in a church is an intimate yet fairly intense affair, particularly when the church is as isolated as this one. However, these emotions were amplified tenfold by the very fact that Zacahariassen’s music often tackles his childhood and upbringing in a staunchly Christian family, exploring how those experiences shaped his later life.
Over the course of the show, the pianist played through the entirety of the Fugloy album, with the acoustics of the church helping to add another layer of sonic intensity and emotion to his playing style. Zachariassen is among the most talented pianists I have ever witnessed in the flesh, and that was clear even while playing an electronic keyboard with limited amplification.
At this point, you probably think that a concert in a remote church on the Faroe Islands, played by a classically trained pianist, sounds like a pretty high-brow affair. While there is undoubtedly some truth in this, it became abundantly clear throughout the performance that the musician, along with his band, was very unpretentious. It was so much so that the viola player revealed partway through the set that his instrument was being held together by gaffa tape, which I’m not sure you would ever see at the Proms.
Moving seamlessly from jazz influences to electronica and even hymnal music, Zachariassen effectively entranced the modest audience in Hvannasund, so much so that even I found myself forgetting the stunning setting outside the wooden walls of the church. In between songs, the composer told the story of his stay in Fugloy and the inspiration behind each track.
Due to the fact that I do not speak Faroese, I did not manage to pick up much of this inter-song patter, although I did catch the odd word for which there clearly is not a Faroese translation – such as “gaffa tape”, “Mega-creepy”, and “Gotham City” – although I missed most of the context in which they were used.
A particular highlight of the set came with Zachariassen’s performance of the single ‘Lying Cow’ – which, incidentally, means something entirely different in the north of England. The song itself takes inspiration from a letter once written by Vincent Van Gogh, which the composer uses within the lyrics. “I am happiest when I live a simple life,” the pianist sang, and the nature of those words stuck with me, largely as a result of the incredibly quiet and picturesque surroundings of the Faroe Islands. I realised, then, that the pianist’s music is inseparably linked to these surroundings, and that gives his compositions a certain quality that few other musicians could hope to recapture.
The concert in Hvannasund was unlike anything I had witnessed before and probably unlike anything I will ever experience again. To feel so connected and in touch with music composed and invariably linked to a setting which feels so alien to me was a truly special experience. Nevertheless, the gig experience finished like so many others have done: with me, sitting in bed, eating takeaway chips, and thinking about how lucky i am to live in a world populated by so many incredible musicians.
