Halli’s stage name is Önnu Jónu Son, another tribute to his mother. He will release
The Radio Won’t Let Me Sleep in the spring and will perform throughout Iceland.
His music is not the vanity of a rich man. He really can sing. The single
“Take These Bones” is about the never-ending march into darkness and the hope for light. It begins with a plea: “I’m lost / Away from home / Away from love / Come take these bones.” The haunting song repeats its title numerous times and closes with, “It’s time / I’ve fought now lost / I can't go on / Come take these bones.”
As I listened to it for the first time, I was hopeful Halli had actually found a healthy outlet for his pain. One he doesn’t have to avoid or bury under heaps of work. One that allows him to tell his story on his own terms.
Who is Halli? He is strong but vulnerable. Empathetic but radically candid. Imperfect yet unforgettable. A human, not a superhero.
With his music, his full force is concentrated and the results are powerful. It is one of the few places where it seems his body is working with his mind. His songs are a fusion of his creative spirit and his physical challenges. They are not an outlet away from his body. They are a window back into it. And as sad as the songs are, they sound like a man who still has hope. “I can’t change what is happening to my body, but I can change how I feel about it, which is the most important part,” he says.
Halli knows his most personal creative act will last beyond him. “When I started recording my album, I wasn’t sure if I would release it,” he says. “I wanted to create it so my kids could have it. I had the songs for many years, so it felt like a waste if I didn’t hand it over to them.”
That is the beauty of creating something. At some point, you will no longer be here, yet the work will remain. And if you never stop pursuing the next project, then you don’t have to think about that moment when you will no longer be here. We can all understand that.