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Posts tagged as “Thomas Nilsen”

These go to 89: Local band Advent Bay Poolboys to play first rock concerts at Barneo ice camp during five-day stay

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Read Time:3 Minute, 7 Second

Some people spend years planning and hundreds of thousands of kroner for expeditions to the top of the world. Thomas Nilsen sent a Facebook message on a whim and got an invite to hang out there free with four of his friends for five days.

Unlike others at the Barneo ice camp at roughly 89 degrees latitude north, they aren’t renowned polar explorers, Earth-shaking scientists or soldiers receiving extreme-weather training. Instead, it’s about putting rock on ice as the local quintet known as the Advent Bay Poolboys is scheduled to perform what are billed as the first-ever rock concerts at the camp.

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Mark Sabbatini

I'm a professional transient living on a tiny Norwegian island next door to the North Pole, where once a week (or thereabouts) I pollute our extreme and pristine environment with paper fishwrappers decorated with seemingly random letters that would cause a thousand monkeys with a thousand typewriters to die of humiliation. Such is the wisdom one acquires after more than 25 years in the world's second-least-respected occupation, much of it roaming the seven continents in search of jazz, unrecognizable street food and escorts I f****d with by insisting they give me the platonic tours of their cities promised in their ads. But it turns out this tiny group of islands known as Svalbard is my True Love and, generous contributions from you willing, I'll keep littering until they dig my body out when my climate-change-deformed apartment collapses or they exile my penniless ass because I'm not even worthy of washing your dirty dishes.
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Full of scat: Visitors inspire locals to be extra expressive – on stage and off – during this year’s Polarjazz fest

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Read Time:20 Minute, 3 Second

Which is worse: being a local who’s totally owned by an intruder during an on-stage jam or being an intruder who’s drowned out by the locals?

Both…neither…actually, it’s not really an answerable question given the nature of the world’s northernmost jazz festival.

The notable lack of jazz at a festival supposedly featuring the genre is hardly unique here, but over the years Polarjazz has become as much a social gathering as a musical one. Longyearbyen residents found themselves extra expressive at this year’s five-day festival that ended Sunday, although at times that wasn’t necessarily a good thing.

About Post Author

Mark Sabbatini

I'm a professional transient living on a tiny Norwegian island next door to the North Pole, where once a week (or thereabouts) I pollute our extreme and pristine environment with paper fishwrappers decorated with seemingly random letters that would cause a thousand monkeys with a thousand typewriters to die of humiliation. Such is the wisdom one acquires after more than 25 years in the world's second-least-respected occupation, much of it roaming the seven continents in search of jazz, unrecognizable street food and escorts I f****d with by insisting they give me the platonic tours of their cities promised in their ads. But it turns out this tiny group of islands known as Svalbard is my True Love and, generous contributions from you willing, I'll keep littering until they dig my body out when my climate-change-deformed apartment collapses or they exile my penniless ass because I'm not even worthy of washing your dirty dishes.
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Rant: Some government people in Norway did a stupid thing and we’ll all be stupider for it

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Read Time:2 Minute, 41 Second

BarentsObserver, one of the best English-language news sites in the polar regions, apparently is taking its final steps toward becoming a government propaganda rag as longtime editor Thomas Nilsen was fired Monday.

For everyone interested in Svalbard, especially those not fluent in Norwegian and wanting information about Russian activities here, this is a very bad thing.

About Post Author

Mark Sabbatini

I'm a professional transient living on a tiny Norwegian island next door to the North Pole, where once a week (or thereabouts) I pollute our extreme and pristine environment with paper fishwrappers decorated with seemingly random letters that would cause a thousand monkeys with a thousand typewriters to die of humiliation. Such is the wisdom one acquires after more than 25 years in the world's second-least-respected occupation, much of it roaming the seven continents in search of jazz, unrecognizable street food and escorts I f****d with by insisting they give me the platonic tours of their cities promised in their ads. But it turns out this tiny group of islands known as Svalbard is my True Love and, generous contributions from you willing, I'll keep littering until they dig my body out when my climate-change-deformed apartment collapses or they exile my penniless ass because I'm not even worthy of washing your dirty dishes.
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