My eighth album from this veteran Norwegian crew, coming on the heels of the tasty ‘Shelter’ album from 2024, the core trio of multi-instrumentalists (all playing also keyboards) of Jan Mikael Sorensen, Jan-Erik Kirkevold Nilsen and Havard Enge, with the added vocal aura of returning guest vocalist Tim Bowness on the third piece “Not Today”. Trumpet is played by Terje Johannesen. The most alluring feature of this band is their staunch defence of their style, unwillingness to bend to trend, exploring the space between darkness and beauty, a highly cinematographic keyboard centric rendering of meaningful melancholia, anchored in obscurity. Their elegant music is often moody, romantic and pensive, never dull of boring but can only be truly appreciated if taken into context and not expectations.
Brief narration on “A Dream Within a Dream” easily sets the mood for another deep-dive into psychedelic melancholia, instantly shattered by the sonic pungency of the bruising “Summer’s End” , a mechanical aural bludgeoning of the senses, layered with coughing and rasping guitars, spurting bass and battering ram percussion. Yet these Norse artists know how to balance soft and dark to perfection, turning on a dime to plunge deeply into kaleidoscopic melodies, where the synths battle the clanging guitars and choir work serve to highlight the temporary ennui. Yes, the spewing of venom and bile returns with a vengeance, broiling organs ablaze and another slip into cloudy serenity. Well played!
Here comes the Tim Bowness cameo, a pouting voice that is surely the most instantly recognizable in music today. “Not Today” sounds like a pool of breaking mirrors, an undulating lament glorified by keyboard interplay, a playful acoustic guitar and undulating bass burst, heavily laden with a certain laissez-faire attitude. Works perfectly.
“The House “ rekindles images of early the Church, a blushing vocal amid slivers of quarrelling acoustic and electric guitars, an understated yet perpetuating organ undertow and sudden argumentative aural effects exuding a drowsy sequence, before ratcheting up the bass as it leads into a severe psychedelic storm. Depressingly orchestral as if marching in a funeral procession “All the Strength” oozes unfeigned pain, a melancholic confusion of contending feelings, all somehow ‘faraway’, likes scattering gales blowing away any adhesive memories, recalling the reverie within the nightmare. Or is it the other way around on the carousel of life?
Spanning nearly 7 minutes, “The Fire” initially blazes with an internal rage of despondence that flirts with doom, before plunging into ambient quietude, poetry narrated in hushed tutelage, a heated guitar turbulence confusing the issue. A sense of maudlin acceptance, echoing bass and shattering cymbal work permeates the barely shouted agony, finally exploding into a ball of molten fury. An excellent track and the album’s definite acme.
Oblique piano, sonic echoes and a drowsy voice unite as “We Look at The River”, a vacillating piece that rekindles memories of late period Talk Talk, especially when the trumpet signals its revealing anguish, highly moody and austere. It hurts.
A final 7 minute+ epic “From the Shadows”, combines soporific intensity with a surprisingly unexpected snarling voice, I though for a second we plunged into growling Opeth mode, not a trait I find easily endearing. It’s a turbulent affair with minimalistic pounding that shifts into contemplative self-analysis, a lissome electric guitar as it emerges swaying testily from the darkened corners of the psyche.
Not as straightaway attractive as Shelter (a magnificent album really) but this at times dour and grim effort fits nevertheless well into their discography, the cover artwork being quite attractive.
3.5 versions of uncomfortable numbness