VENUE AND EVENT INFO
Doors open at 7:00PM. Show starts at 8:00PM. This is an All Ages Event. Scheduled Acts: Of Monsters and Men
This show is General Admission. All areas are first come first served until they reach capacity. Fans will then be directed to the next available section.
For VIP table seating, please contact FranciscoRamirez@LiveNation.com
To purchase tickets on the day of the event, please visit The Fillmore Miami Beach box office at 1700 Washington Avenue, Miami Beach, FL 33139. All sales are subject to availability at the time of purchase.
Scheduled acts are subject to change without notice. All tickets are subject to all applicable facility fees and service charges. No refunds, exchanges, or cancellations
OF MONSTERS AND MEN by Eve BarlowYou think you know the Icelandic band Of Monsters and Men, but you have no idea. Within thefirst minute of their new single 'Alligator' you'll be wondering if this huge anthem is the brainchildof the Yeah Yeah Yeahs fronting Arcade Fire–all thumping drums, brimming guitars and a call-to-arms chorus about taking control. During a day of final mixing at the LA studio of their co-producerRich Costey (MUSE, Vampire Weekend, Chvrches), the five-piece gather in stages. Thefirst to walkin are joint vocalists/guitarists Nanna BryndisHilmarsdóttir, RagnarÞorhallsson and bassist KristjanPall Kristjansson. They're here to put the band's forthcoming third album 'FEVER DREAM' to bed.It's been in the offing for three years but–finally–it's soon to be out of their hands. Shortlybehind them like a pair of mischievous school stragglers are the remaining members: drummerArnar Rosenkranz Hilmarsson and youngest of the pack–guitarist Brynjar Leifsson.To dub the story of this band a “fairytale” does a disservice to the amount of determination andgrit it's required to get them to where they are in 2019. When reminded that it's almost ten yearssince the beginnings of the band (from the ashes of Nanna's solo project), they exclaim: “JesusChrist!” The past decade has been a whirlwind completely beyond their collective imaginations. Itstarted when a radio staton in Philadelphia–Radio 104.5–began playing a demo of the song'Little Talks' in 2011. OMAM were very freshly formed, but suddenly they were on the tip of everyindustry person's tongue. They signed with Republic, went to SXSW in a van and left in a fully-fledged tour bus. Their debut album–which by everyone's admission was essentially scrappilymade in one weekend–followed swiftly, titled 'My Head Is An Animal'. It went multi-platinum.Thereafter the band toured, developing a live reputation all over in huge venues and at massivefestivals. Their plaudits were on a par with rock bands three albums deeper.The juggernaut didn't let up from there. After those explosive first years in which they touredrelentlessly, conquered many festivals, wowed TV audiences most significantly with an SNLperformance in May 2013, the band retreated to Iceland, their studio and their instruments tomake a follow-up 'Beneath The Skin’. That second album catapulted them around the world evenmore, contributed to OMAM being the first Icelandic band ever to hit 1 billion streams on Spotifyand even earned them a cameo appearance on season six of Gameof Thrones in 2016. None ofthis, of course, is regrettable. And yet it hasn't been until recent months that the fivesome havereally begun to realize that their trajectory has been relentless ever since 'Little Talks'–a mega hitthat wasnever really intended to bethe song. Everything up until 2017 had somewhat existed toserve that initial momentum. The past two years have allowed them to re-posture, re-group andstep away from a reaction stance. They've learned not just who they are asmusicians but how tofall in love with music again.First, let's consider the music. There's a preconceived notion about the typical Of Monsters andMen sound: stadium folk flourishes, choruses of “hey! ho!”s and metaphors about extremelandscapes. But there hasneverbeen a typical Of Monsters and Men sound. Their back catalogueoutside of their signature singles has showcased a diverse palette of balladry, danceable belters,and weirder synth moments. On their third album, that will be a fact too frontand centre toignore. They began working on it in the Spring of 2017, after they stopped touring in winter of2016. It's the longest gestation period they've ever experienced while making an album.“We immediately started to do it differently,” says Nannaof their process this time around. OMAMoperate as a democracy. In the past that manifested as the five of them being in the rehearsalspace, working on one idea until everyone had their own instrumental stamp on a song.It was arduous, it was stressfuland it was very difficult. This album has been hard work too: it'sbeen a long winding road, and required a lot of patience. However, in so many respects it's themore satisfying version. The pressure within the democracy required a different type of vulnerability among them. Rather than being forced to show themselves to one another on thespot in that previous rehearsal space, this time they all spent an extensive period apart, and eachcontributed ideas they'd produced at home on laptops. This was completely novel to them and afar vaster challenge.At first there wasn't a clear-cut direction, just diverse ideas informed by five people with verydifferent tastes. Ragnar, for instance, is always influenced by the staying power and sonic identityof a band like The National. Nanna, on the other hand, took her maverick inspirations from artistsequally as integrity driven: Solange and Childish Gambino. “The driving force for this album wascuriosity,” says Nanna. “Curiosity to do things in a new way–not using a guitar to write, findingsomething else that excites me.” Even Ragnar put down his guitar, no longer feeling like he neededto justify his presence in the band via one instrument. “I would play acoustic guitar on everyfucking song on the album,” hesays. “Now I havenoidea what I'll be doing live, what instrumentsI'll be holding, or if I'll be holding any!” Nanna smiles. “We eliminated the roles we had in the bandand not in a bad way. It's more open. It gives you more space to explore yourself asa musician.” It'sgrown the trust they have in one another too. “Having everyone's fingers in everything can flattenthings,” says Ragnar. “If you mix every color together you just get brown.”The songs themselves are certainly not brown. They're also not couched in one style. Arnar: “If onesong wanted to be a full-blown 80s track, we'd allow it to be that. If another wanted to be a rocktrack we'd allow it to be that.” It is reflective of the landscape of big rock acts now too that genrehas become lessdebilitating and doesn't stipulate that bands need to perform within a certainframework. “We've always been drawn to that,” nods Nanna. “When a lot of people hear our namethey think of us as a folky acoustic band. We've never been one thing. These days,we feel free togo to extremes.” Brynjar agrees. “We wanted to explore everybody's palettes and do what wewanted to do: just try everything.”Lyrically the album is more personal than ever, which makes sense when Nanna and Ragnar revealthat this is thefirst album they've written lyrics for apart from one another. In conversation it'shard for them to get too specific on details. “For me, they're about personal struggles.” The wayRagnar has written his lines has been inspired by gut emotions. He'll take a thought and run with itto its completion and no longer hides from his feelings. In the past they'd workshop lyrics as a jointexercise until they were masked enough to apply to everyone. For Nanna, her lyrics' meaningsreveal themselves to her over time. “You sing something and you think it's gibberish, then weekslater listen and think it's the most spot-on thing you've ever said. This time we only came togetherat the end to help each other where we could.”That co-counselling speaks volumes to their friendship, and the power of music within their mostintimate dialogue. Despite the struggles, the band wanted the songs to contain more light and joy–a catharsis to push through the anxieties they're expressing. The way in which Nanna's voicerelatesthat dialogue to the world is the most evolved of anything here. It's almost beyondrecognition. Her voice growls like there's something between her teeth. It's a confidence thing,admits Nanna. “I'm at the point where I know what works for me and what I want.” 'Alligator' is thefirst indication of that.“We could have just gone on for years and never made any decisions,” laughs Ragnar of doingthese final stages with Costey. Of Monsters and Men are a band who are in it for the long haul andhave taken the time to craft their sound, culture and universe. “We don't want to repeat whatwe've done,” says Nanna. “It's important for us to have a long career, make albums we're proud ofand take our time.” It's a statement that's comfortably at odds with the fast-paced music scene oftoday. In the end it'll be all that matters. Most of all, the band are itching to get back out into thelive arena–and to learn how to celebrate and let loose more. They bought an inflatable lifeboat years ago for Nanna to use forcrowdsurfing. It never got used. “I wouldloveto crowd-surf with theboat!” she exclaims at the reminder. Anchors aweigh, Of Monsters and Men are ready to set sail