First, I wish I had gotten the name of the badass AF gentleman in charge of the museum, because as we left, both my teen daughter and I agreed he was the absolute coolest Icelander we met during our entire stay (and we met a lot of cool Icelanders). He's like the Icelandic Henry Rollins, somehow embodying the essence of punk while still being warm and making you feel completely welcome (no easy feat). The museum is small but immersive. I walked away with a solid primer on Icelandic punk. I had known nothing of the music scene there prior to the Sugarcubes, but I still learned more than I knew about them too, and what Bjork's journey was after that. I am definitely going back the next time I am there, both to experience it again and to thank Icelandic Henry Rollins (I hope you read this, my friend) for catching my daughter covertly Shazaming what he was playing and turning her on to Slade. Tak!