Sigur Rós - Ný batterí

When I was young my mother would sing German lullabies to me; not all the time, mostly just when I was sick or upset, but those are memories that stay with you as you grow older. And while I never understood what she was singing (having been brought up in an English-speaking household) the words were strangely comforting. Their foreignness engrossed me more than anything else, that alien quality to language you are unfamiliar with captivating me to such an extent that my eyes would eventually just shut and I would drift off into a peaceful sleep.

Those moments of weakness, of frailty, are the moments when we need guidance and support most. As nothing but a helpless child, this came in the form of my mother’s singing. Twenty-odd years later, my attention turned to lullabies of a different kind. Sigur Rós’ dark, emotional rendition of traditional Icelandic lullaby “Bíum bíum bambaló” would mesmerize me in a way very few songs have before or since. Jónsi was the mother of my haunted soul, gently singing me to sleep as I struggled to come to terms with a period of change in my life. Lying there in the darkness night after night, staring at the ceiling and thinking too much, Sigur Rós changed my perception of what music could be and what it could do for someone. This humble EP meant more to me than a lot of other music at the time and it still holds a special place in my heart for its incomparable sincerity.

And while “Bíum bíum bambaló” was really at the crux of the Ný batterí EP, I couldn’t imagine hearing it without “Dánarfregnir og jarðarfarir” coming afterwards. The latter is Sigur Rós’ version of a song played on Icelandic radio as a theme for death and funeral announcements and it provided a fitting epilogue to my misery. And of course there’s the title track. One of the band’s most majestic pieces, and even more so when combined with the extended introduction of “Rafmagnið búið,” “Ný batterí” builds slowly towards its epic climax featuring the famous bent cymbal the band found on a street in Reykjavík. This is among the bleakest and most desperate Sigur Rós songs, although in a way that was very unique to the Ágætis byrjun album as a whole. It maintains the mystical aura that made that album such a classic, yet a simple translation of the lyrics reveals a much more human side than one might have thought possible of the group’s otherworldly music.

It’s not often that music speaks in the same way this relatively overlooked release does and perhaps it is entirely due to my own personal experience with it. For that, I am forced to admit that it is probably not perfect. But I can’t see it any other way and so all I can say is thank you Sigur Rós. Thank you for saving my life.  

Rating: 9/10

(Originally posted on Sputnikmusic.com: http://www.sputnikmusic.com/review/56589/Sigur-Ros-Ny-Batteri/)

Amia Venera Landscape - The Long Procession

For critics, placing music into genres is often seen as a necessary evil. Everything has to sound like something before it so that they can all fit neatly into the same labelled folder together. For the most part this system works and any kind of music can be fairly accurately described with just one genre tag. But every now and again a band or musician comes along and just messes with the whole system. Amia Venera Landscape is one of those bands.

While they may not be able to claim complete originality, Amia Venera Landscape draw from so many different influences that it’s nigh impossible to pin them down to just one style. Perhaps the most immediate sound that comes to mind is that of post-hardcore, and there are certainly enough Define the Great Line-era Underoath-sounding riffs and vocal stylings for them to be classified as such. But what about that speed and technicality in “Empire” that sounds like it could have been taken straight from a Dillinger Escape Plan record? Or the atmospheric post-metal sections akin to bands such as Isis and Rosetta? There is even a lengthy ambient passage that constitutes much of the album’s midsection.

Music as diverse as this always has the potential to sound over-the-top but Amia Venera Landscape generally avoid falling into this trap. The songs are lengthy and progressive but rarely does anything sound out of place. When the band delve head-first into ambience with “Ascending,” it comes at just the right time; the previous three tracks all revolve around the post-hardcore sound mentioned earlier and “Ascending” is the perfect breather. Elsewhere, “Marasm” is perhaps the best track on The Long Procession (tied with “Empire”). A sprawling, near 15-minute instrumental based around epic post-metal soundscapes, “Marasm” sees the band exploring a slightly longer route to kicking your face in and the result is simply stunning. The song is allowed to expand and build slowly and it reaps massive benefits from this. “Nicholas” is the final piece of the puzzle and it really should have been the closer. Instead, the album continues for another 10 minutes with a couple of somewhat less impressive tracks. While they may not be bad songs per say, they aren’t quite able to match up to the intensity of the previous eight compositions and the added length just drags the album a little too far over a comfortable running time. This is ultimately a minor complaint, however, for an otherwise brilliant record.

I really couldn’t tell you which genre Amia Venera Landscape falls under, but what I can tell you is that this is one hell of an album that, if approached with an open-mind, you certainly won’t regret listening to. 

Rating: 8/10

(Originally posted on Sputnikmusic.com: http://www.sputnikmusic.com/review/56414/Amia-Venera-Landscape-The-Long-Procession/)

Sigur Rós - Brennisteinn

Ever since Sigur Rós took their breathtakingly beautiful, otherworldly-sounding compositions to an international stage in 1999, they have been heading towards a sound governed less by their Icelandic roots and more by their innate ability to create songs that resonate on an emotional level. Whereas Ágætis Byrjun and (  ) made strong use of the band’s foreign sensibilities, subsequent albums began to rely less on this aspect, with the songwriting taking precedence. Yet Sigur Rós have not often dared to venture too far out of their comfort zone, with last year’s ambient-leaning Valtari honing in on the more minimalist elements of their signature sound.

If Brennisteinn is any indication, all that is about to change. With the upcoming release of their seventh studio album Kveikur later this year, Brennisteinn points towards an overall darker and sludgier sound that the band has not channelled since the second half of 2002’s untitled masterpiece. The title track, which is also due to appear as the opener on the new album, sees Sigur Rós experimenting with harsher, more abrasive electronic elements grating over the top of Jónsi’s trademark vocals. Conflicting aspects such as these have only been used sparingly in the past but here Jónsi’s falsetto shines through the haze like a ray of light and it works brilliantly. The same can be said of “Hryggjarsúla” which sounds more like the kind of droning nightmare Michael Gira would conjure up rather than anything from the band’s back catalogue. Finally, instrumental track “Ofbirta” hearkens back to the dark ambient style of Von, perhaps the most ominous Sigur Rós had sounded prior to this.

Although no two albums of theirs sound exactly alike, this is the first time we are really hearing something of a reinvention from the group. As just a small taste of what’s to come, Brennisteinn certainly achieves its goal of whetting the appetite and fans will have to wait another few months before getting to hear the final product.       

Rating: 7/10

(Originally posted on sputnikmusic.com: http://www.sputnikmusic.com/review/55952/Sigur-Ros-Brennisteinn/)

Ólafur Arnalds - For Now I Am Winter

For Now I Am Winter is a bold step forward for Ólafur, adding an impressive amount of variety into an otherwise well-established formula.

Over the course of the past 5 years, Ólafur Arnalds has established himself as one of the most promising musicians in the Icelandic music scene. His sorrowful neoclassical pieces evoked the stark minimalism of Sigur Rós, combined with the simple ambience explored by Brian Eno. Through these influences and others, Arnalds was able to create a simple, short-form take on modern classical music that had enough crossover appeal to be enjoyed by fans of post-rock, ambient, and even pop music genres.

For Now I Am Winter is Ólafur Arnald’s latest effort and major label debut. First track “Sudden Throw” gets things underway with a typical Ólafur sound, much like that heard on 2010’s successful ...And They Escaped the Weight of Darkness. However, this doesn’t last long before bouncy violins and a glitchy electronic beat join the fray in “Brim,” a song that sounds very different to anything else previously attempted by the Icelander. The song undergoes multiple mood and atmosphere changes, eventually settling down into the slow and mournful sound we’ve come to know and love from the man. But perhaps the most radical departure comes in the form of vocal embellishments from singer Arnor Dan in the title track. His tender voice is used sparingly, appearing in only four of the album’s twelve tracks, and it certainly isn’t the kind of jarring voice that detracts from the music. Nevertheless, it will certainly be one of the release’s biggest talking points and could be a potential turn-off for some fans.

Other highlights include “Reclaim,” which combines the newfound electronic influences with the addition of vocals, and the gorgeous post-rock inspired build-up in “Only the Winds.” The strongest vocal performance from Dan can be heard in what is perhaps the record’s most surprising song, “Old Skin.” His voice is stronger and more confident here, providing a much-needed lift from the more traditional-sounding mid-section of the album. Electronic instrumentation again comes to the fore and percussive beats provide the backbone for “This Place Was a Shelter,” before being rounded-off by the charming ambience of “Carry Me Anew.”    

For Now I Am Winter is a bold step forward for Ólafur, adding an impressive amount of variety into an otherwise well-established formula. The only question will be whether he manages to take this exciting momentum on to much greater heights in future. 

Rating: 8/10

(Originally posted on sputnikmusic.com: http://www.sputnikmusic.com/review/55351/Olafur-Arnalds-For-Now-I-am-Winter/)

Harold Budd and Brian Eno - Ambient 2: The Plateaux of Mirror

An album cover seldom sets the scene as well as this one does; this is the musical backdrop to pure pastoral ecstasy.  

You find yourself immersed in a rural terrain, the vast landscape stretching as far as your eyes can see. Looking around, you realise that the daybreak is upon you. You stand up and hear the faint tinkling of a piano as the sun rises over the hilltops. The first light reaches you and you embrace the warmth, keeping yourself safe from the cool morning breeze. You watch as the world grows brighter, characterised by the background humming of a synthesiser as the piano becomes more prominent. The sun is in full view; the breeze stops and life begins to emerge from its shell.

The sound of running water is heard as you walk through the trees and you find yourself at the edge of a lake. The water reflects a radiant glare, shining toward the skies like a mirror to the sun. Water-filtered ambience fills the air. You are unable to face the glow and turn away, but can hear the sounds of birds arriving to take their morning drink. You walk away back into the shade of the trees. Eventually you come to a clear, open area filled with nothing but soft grass. You sweep the ground with your hand and feel the spongy earth beneath you. Looking up, you see that the sky is a brilliant shade of blue, empty but for an arc of doves that is silhouetted on the horizon. The sun now sits at its peak, the heat emanating an enveloping warm tone and the birds singing a resonant chiming that drifts towards you through the heavens.

You close your eyes and consider the memory you are creating, not yet remembered. By the time you open them again, the sky is growing darker and your day is coming to an end. You head back through the trees, the chill air following you as clouds begin to appear overhead. The clearing on the other side reveals a path alongside a few open fields. The clouds are now dark and the sun is almost completely hidden from view. A light rain begins to fall and the water settles on the grass of the meadows beside you, from a distance looking like tiny crystals shining in the last rays of sunlight making their way through the clouds.

The path finally leads to a fence. A series of bells hang on the wires, ringing in the afternoon breeze. The clouds have now blown over, revealing a brilliant red and orange skyline. The wind is growing in intensity and the trees are swaying from side to side. You climb through the fence, cautious not to get hooked on any sharp knots of wire and walk over the hill on the other side. As your eyes grow accustomed to the dimness of the grey evening, you realise that you are back where you started, the open land stretching for miles in every direction. You see the trees you first went through that morning and become aware of the fact that you have gone full circle. But as the last light begins to fade away and the stars begin to show, you decide you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. You sit down and listen to the piano play the final notes of your day as you close your eyes and drift off into a state of peaceful bliss.             

Rating: 7/10

(Originally posted on sputnikmusic.com: http://www.sputnikmusic.com/review/46083/Harold-Budd-and-Brian-Eno-Ambient-2---The-Plateaux-of-Mirror/ )