All Melody - Nils Frahm

Track list:

1. The Whole Universe Wants to Be Touched
2. Sunson
3. A Place
4. My Friend the Forest
5. Human Range
6. Forever Changeless
7. All Melody
8. #2
9. Momentum
10. Fundamental Values
11. Kaleidoscope
12. Harm Hymn

Running time: 73 minutes
Released: 2018

So another insert here, as I decided I did want to follow up on investigating Nils Frahm after the collaboration with Ólafur Arnalds. The first disc sold me, even though I was disappointed by the second.

The first, short, intro tune starts with ~10 seconds of silence. In a sub-2 minute track that's a significant chunk of time. I can see how and why silence might be used in structuring pieces, but I do wonder about tacking it on to the start or end of the track. In a live performance it might set tone and expectation, but on record? Not so sure.

This is a long disc and I have got up early on a Sunday to make time for it. I failed to find the right energy to do it last night (wash out all round, alas) and am trying to set that right. Soon I have to go off to do a huge shop (for two separate households) and then play dutiful son for a while. Yesterday was cleaning mold from windows that hadn't seen a cleanse in too long. Life's full of fun, eh?

It takes a little while to kick in, but Sunson has the pulsing staccato electronics that endeared the first disc of the Frahm/Arnalds collaboration to me. These kind of rhythms and patterns appeal to me a lot, I wonder why? A constant reference point, perhaps, or a subconscious connection to the heartbeat? I don't think "pulse" is a bad term for it at all. Over the top of this there are wandering pipes. I am reminded a little of Vangelis of all people. There is a little bit of a throwback vibe here. Then, about two thirds of the way through the track just stops. This is better use of silence, a reset, reformulate. The theme that comes back after the break is immediately relevant to what went before but framed very differently, so the quick enforced quiet between the two presentations allows for that relationship without the change being jarring or lost.

I find this hard to place. There's more going on in the pieces than perhaps I expected there would be so it's less immediately relaxing than I anticipated. Finding the words to describe where it would sit is tough. 

Vangelis probably is my best touchstone or reference point, despite this being less synth heavy, because of the variety. There are similarities in the structuring of the tracks and themes moreso than the actual sounds. Even the use of space, such as in the nice keyboard melody on My Friend the Forest, has echoes of the Greek. Actually here I feel there are actual melodic reflections of Vangelis tracks too, albeit with a more stripped down sound. The next track then veers off in a different direction, with taught trumpets that remind me of Scandinavian jazz, but with a slow tempo that, in combination, is really quite disturbing and hard to listen to.

By contrast, when Frahm brings out the keyboard, he has a nice, light touch, surprisingly so.

Is the title meant to be ironic? All Melody starts with anything but. Sure, a tune emerges from the electronics as it moves forward but it is not immediately melodic. My point of reference here dives to Ben Prunty's soundtrack for sci-fi roguelike FTL, a frustrating little game scored perfectly to enhance its tension.  Here the track builds a similar sense of edginess, the sound rounds out over time and the crescendo this involves is effective at subtly ratcheting up that dial further too. The track evolves as it goes, whilst always maintaining that tense aspect. 

You know, I totally missed a change of track there. The electronic rhythm seemed to continue right through with no break, and when you're talking two back-to-back 9 minute tunes...I am liking this mid section of the album though. Pulse, tempo, and tension. Ambient or electronica can be waffly and vague, purposeless. These three elements give it form and structure, give something to get your teeth into, something to lose yourself in, rather than simply losing track of the tune. 

I am losing track of this though... my mind has checked out, seeking refuge in nothingness as an antidote to the day ahead. I look forward to the day when I don't feel put upon, but I don't know if my mind will ever let me get there. We're almost through the album now, Kaleidoscope and its messy approximation of wind chimes and devotional singing is a but jarring. The low vocals on their own are nicely curated but the sounds layered over them are less appealing. It seemed as though the track got better in the latter stages of its 8 minute timeframe but to be honest I think I blocked out the bits that were less immediately accessible to me and concentrated on the part that I enjoyed

Overall this has been a strange listen for a number of reasons. The music itself is certainly one, but the timing (starting before 9am on a Sunday) is probably the key one, along with cutting away between tracks to get things done. It's not ideal, but then neither is finding a 73 minute block to dedicate when life continues on. I need my space and time, but for my own wellbeing I need to find a way to continue things like this, too... if I am not, it means my energy levels are down and I'm probably in a rut. 

The final track ends with silence, more than 10 seconds worth, but still a noticeable mirror to how it began. Overall I think there are some wonderful moments in this disc but it struggles to maintain the peak quality throughout.

Collaborative Works, Disc 2 - Ólafur Arnalds and Nils Frahm

Track list:

1. 20:17
2. 21:05
3. 23:17
4. 23:52
5. 00:26
6. 01:41
7. 03:06
8. Untitled

Running time: 40 minutes
Released: 2015

After the first disc of this collection was largely a hit, what does round two have to offer?

If the track titles for the first half of this set were odd, these are just as inscrutable. I can only assume that the titles are timestamps as the liner notes suggest these tunes were put together in a single sitting. 

The soft piano that opens us up is clear, unadorned by any electronics this time around, its melody is sweet and simple, but not really a midday kind of sound. Then, in truth, it rather meanders to a conclusion, and a very unclear track changeover. Thus far it lacks the urgency and demanding features of the companion disc. For all the beauty in the notes there is something missing here. Vibrancy, points of difference. In another mood, where I was looking for laid back light melody, I think I would value this highly, but right now - this listen being a way of kickstarting my day, far later than it should have been - it falls a little flat.

Isn't it funny how our sense of self can completely realign how we view things? It's not just appreciation of music that depends wildly on mood, I've noticed it with books too of late. One evening I read a passage and thought it was dross, that I'd jack the book in there and then. I went back to it the next night and ended up with a more charitable view. The last time I picked up that book, a couple of days ago now, I ended up back in the first camp. Now, clearly that suggests it isn't a great read, but it is also interesting the degree to which my impressions of it shifted. I think I might be done with it now but... I kinda feel like I have to give it one more chance?

Why the digression? Because thinking about that is to think, too, about this project. When I started I was itchy on the trigger finger, cutting quite a lot. I have dialed back on that some of late (I didn't excise B1 from disc 1 for example). Does that mean another chance to appreciate things, or does it mean more dross in the mix? Probably both, to different degrees.

Meanwhile the lonely piano has been joined by some other sounds. The aural tapestry is better for it, but I still don't feel that this disc is living up to yesterday's standards. It was the whirs and clicks, the obfuscation of the melodies and tunes, those subtle electronic highlights that Arnalds made a name with that made those first pieces sing. Here they are either absent or applied with more force than is required. As we approach midnight (assuming timestamps) things are darker, edgier, but rather than a coherent aesthetic evoking in me memories or thoughts of references to other mediums, 23:52 ends up presenting me with a wall of wails, not song. It's not bad but it's not what I had hoped for on the basis of yesterday evening.

Ah, now. Into the new day and there we have it. Those staccato statics, and a pulsing sound to the main instrumentation. It's more sparse than anything preceding it on this disc, but also more vital, more immediate - all because of some sonic disruption that provides a constant nagging rhythm. It reminds me a bit of Boards of Canada's Tomorrow's Harvest, which is a good thing. There is still a more urgent edge to the following piece too, though it seems to be a solo xylaphone or similar, the pace is kept up. 

Until it morphs into a recording of people moving around the studio anyway, then it mellows out and loses the urgency. Sigh.

It recovers a little in the end, through presentation of a nice central theme, but my disappointment with the piece as a whole stands, and at the moment that disappointment reflects my overall feeling on this album. As the last titled track begins, another nice key-led tune, I wonder how much today's disappointment was setup by last night's enjoyment. This is nice, but doesn't have the same wow factor, doesn't draw me in and demand my attention. It's like there's no real sell here, just a meander through some notes and sounds for the sake of it. Some of those notes and sounds are gorgeous, some less so, but on its own that isn't enough somehow. They spoiled me before.

Collaborative Works, Disc 1 - Ólafur Arnalds and Nils Frahm

Track list:

1. Four
2. Three
3. Wide Open
4. W
5. M
6. A1
7. A2
8. B1
9. Life Story
10. Love And Glory

Running time: 61 minutes
Released: 2015

OK, so another impulse purchase makes its way in before I can close out the Wedding Present box set of Peel. This time it is a collaboration between Ólafur Arnalds, of whom I am a fan, and Nils Frahm, who I don't know from Adam, but might find myself interested in after this...

These tracks are named... oddly. For the most part they say absolutely nothing about what they might contain. I find the opening notes of Four to be almost brilliantly enticing. I like the tune they play but the buzzing electro edge to them is annoying in the same way a wasp or fly in the room can be. When the tune dies out and we are left with just chimes if feels empty, unfulfilling. 

Fulfillment is something I am craving right now. April was a difficult month in a number of ways and whilst I am starting May on holiday (well, not working this week; I'm at home) I am yet to get back to a baseline where I feel truly myself, or truly human. A combination of work stress and family matters, and a growing dissatisfaction with my solitary life. I am hoping that somewhere in these swirling sounds there might be some gold dust, the touchstone to reignite my velocity on this project (I'd like to get a listen in every day between now and when I go back to work on the 8th, but...). 

Three is also very mellow and feels more complete somehow, whilst Wide Open has punching static, needle scratches, giving a staccato, radio-signal loss effect. I think this is really effective. It sounds like the tune behind these breaks would work as a fluid number but the ticks shake it up, making it sound more dense with notes than it actually is. I feel like the closest thing to this I've heard before is Jon Hopkins, not Arnalds' solo work. In places it hints at a much deeper web of sounds, but they are all inaccessible, held back behind the barrier built by the static. It could be massively frustrating and a let down, but it ends up being highly satisfying. 

W sounds like videogame music... rising tension, peaks and troughs, right out of cyberpunk. I don't mean that in a pejorative sense at all, by the by. Even listening on a sunny spring evening this piece is very effective at generating an oppressive atmosphere of dark intrigue. There isn't really that much going on in the track, and yet it is gripping for most of its length. By the end the trick has grown old, and the relaxing tension leaves me cold. 

It seems that this double-disc collection was originally 4 releases, three of which make up the one album I am listening to tonight. There has definitely been a shift in tone from the laid back sounds of that first trio of tunes to this next couple, all edgy. There is a nice rhythm to this though, more staccato, pulsing, evoking sci-fi and space. 

On the surface level this is quite a bleak sound but beneath the distant beeps and clicks and whirs there is real heart, and I find myself tapping out rhythms that aren't necessarily actually there as it plays. These two composers have created a space that invites you to hear things in it. Whether claustrophobic or wide open in tone their sounds push you to imagine others, faint echoes in their chambers, tapping time. These pieces work best when they are busy, the slower, sparser moments feel empty, if only by comparison to the main thrust of the work. 

As much as I am rather enjoying this, it is awfully samey in places, and when they hit on a theme or loop that doesn't jive with me the charm falls away fast.

I see that at the start of the 13 minute long epic, B1. A low warbling sound with a repeating pattern of odd sounds that I cannot put into words. It leaves me very cold and there is not enough variation in the first 3 minutes of the track to make the discomfiture abate. The track does evolve a bit over its run, but it never really breaks from the initial mould and I find it by far the weakest moment to date. There is just too much emphasis on repetition and those odd pattern-notes. I would argue the main meat of the track is the background, where the change really happens, but it is locked away behind these unpleasant blotchy sounds which simply make the piece too unapproachable for me. And then it ends in the most abrupt fashion... just odd.

Hopefully the last two numbers return to form... early signs are good, as Life Story is a nice piano melody that, whilst very different in tone from the early tracks does have the same base engagement, the underlying warmth of the sound, framed in a way as to draw you into the web. The rustling static that serves as percussion is so soft in places as to be almost imperceptible, but I guarantee you would miss it if it wasn't there... it adds a fuzz, a glow, to the sounds of the keys which otherwise might be too stark and cold.

With all that said, there is still a loneliness to the track, and it leaves me with a little lump in my throat as it closes and we tick over into Love and Glory, which has a similar structure. This piece is more hopeful, lighter. Uncertain but expected happiness, this feels much more a celebration, as befits its title.

Overall, then... a wonderful set of tunes, one outlier aside. It's a pity that outlier was almost 25% of the disc by time.

Broadchurch O.S.T - Ólafur Arnalds

Track list:

1. Main Theme
2. Danny
3. The Journey
4. So Close
5. Suspects
6. What Did They Ask You?
7. She's Your Mother
8. Excavating The Past
9. The Meeting
10. Broken
11. I'm Not The Guilty One
12. So Far
13. Beth's Theme

Running time: 52 minutes
Released: 2015

From a videogame soundtrack to a TV show one. This was meant to be next cab on the rank a long while back, but a raft of purchases that all fell before it alphabetically, and a low output rate of late, have delayed it several weeks.

I hear Broadchurch - season 1 anyway - was good TV. I wouldn't know as I didn't catch any of it and have never felt like going back to do so. However when I saw that the soundtrack music had been composed by Ólafur Arnalds I picked it up despite my unfamiliarity with the series. I like Arnalds' style. I expect this to be a little bitty without knowledge of the visuals it was to accompany but hope that it will be stirringly good stuff all the same.

The Main Theme starts darkly, distantly. A low rumbling sound may be approximating waves. Then a spooky, isolated but simple melody arrives and takes centre stage. I think the addition of the strings, giving depth to the bleakness, raises the theme another level as the percussion picks up a pace. This is the kind of atmospheric that I wanted to feel from The Banner Saga soundtrack last time out... a different atmosphere, of course - English mystery vs. Nordic fantasy - but a complete theme. I suppose as such it speaks to the fundamentally different nature of soundtracking the two media. TV (and film) tend to get longer themes that may not be used in their entirety but are composed as such. Videogames get made-to-measure pieces that fit exactly to a specific use, and likely made to loop in case the player takes too long.

I guess that Danny was the kid that died/went missing/provoked the central mystery of the show. I could guess that from the name alone, but the tune that bears the name also suggests this quite strongly. There is an inorganic edge to the sound here that typifies Arnalds' playing with less traditional elements, but the composition is very classic soundtrack in tone. I am left suspecting that the show was about loneliness, key people being driven apart by events and their responses to them, because there is something in the music here that breeds a sense of isolation, of being cut off. When the more modern, almost Vangelis-style futuristic, sounds appear in The Journey I think it was better before they did, but at the same time they are not entirely out of place. The composer is walking a fine line there, his inclination to modernise competing a little against the sense of place the tune was composed to evoke. This is a long theme though, and the latter stages of it have a tension and conflict to them. It reminds me a little in places of several different composers or musicians in passing, in snippets too short for me to identify and name them all.

I have often said I don't like crime fiction... police TV shows. It's one of the reasons I steered clear of Broadchurch when it aired (well, that and ITV). But that is a lie; I have lapped up Line of Duty (a soundtrack I want to get, if only for the main theme) on the BBC over three series and 4 years, for example. I think what I dislike is "villain of the week" shows, one and done crimes (always murder, because drama). Serialise it, give room for the characters to shine and suffer and suddenly it becomes a backdrop like any other subject. I think I probably should go back and watch this one, because I suspect it does what I would want it to.

So close is a song, with vocals. Was not expecting that. I find I don't think much of it, either... it rather flows past me without making an impression. Suspects is a dark, tense affair to follow it, but one that opens out into a nice melody and pacing structure (albeit of a form so generic to TV scores that it hurts). There is definitely something very common about the form this composition takes, right down to the sudden end to the piece. It works, because it is incredibly evocative. It also doesn't work absent the visual media because it's a trope that is so over-used. I know, I should name other instances to back that up, and no, I can't off the top of my head. All I can say is that I am sure I have heard the same conceits used a hundred times on TV and film, and that I think that as a composition Suspects suffers without recourse to the visuals.

A couple of terse, tense numbers pass by, erasing the memory of the overused trope by drowning me in the murky uncertainties. I don't know if this is biased by enjoying this disc more, but here the shorter pieces feel more rounded and complete, more tonally consistent and more like a tune in their own right than even the longer numbers on The Banner Saga soundtrack managed to. I really don't like disparaging that soundtrack so much, because I don't think that in context it was bad at all, so let me say instead that Arnalds clearly knows how to craft accompaniments that can stand alone. I think perhaps with TV we are all so familiar with the tropes and mores that it is easier to play upon them and for us to identify and relate to them without the specific context that the composer is working to, but certainly this is much more accessible. So much so that I feel like I have heard much of it before simply because it trades on those familiarities. I can't really blame the composer for drifting into sounds that could come from a hundred different shows. Really so much of our TV explores the same themes, so why wouldn't the music for the show follow suit? The soundtrack's job is to support and enhance the visuals and there is probably a reason the sort of dark-light shifts, driving strings, and wide lens feel have become staples in the first place.

I feel like I am tarring this undeservedly, so let me say that I am enjoying this quite a lot. It is making me think of things beyond the scope of the single album though, and I find it much easier to connect these sounds to soundtracks aplenty by other musicians than I do to reference Arnalds' other work. Just because something is familiar - or popular, come to that - does not mean it lacks artistic merit. Rather than seeing a slight on the present, see a nod to the masses.

I really like the strings on Broken. There's a lovely light touch to this piece which, whilst carrying a sad tune and quite clearly not accompanying an upbeat moment, gives a sense of relief... exactly the sort of thing I was crying out for in yesterday's listen. You would expect a tune with the title "I'm Not the Guilty One" to be difficult listening, and it is. I don't find it as overtly accusatory as the title itself, but it is not a pleasant tune, edginess abundant. One element that is used a lot in soundtracking it seems is the repeated note as pacing mechanism. A single sound hit over and over to give structure and tempo, the strength of the sound dictating  the urgency of the piece. So Far uses this, and it makes me think again of Vangelis though I can't bring a particular piece or even album to reference.

On to the last. Beth's Theme starts as a lonely, light piano. It feels like a classic resolution, a sober end. Gods, when he does this I love Ólafur Arnalds... so much emotion in such a simple package. I can feel myself getting goosebumps on what has been the warmest day of the year to date - simply amazing. I can only imagine how powerful this could be with a conclusive scene to sit alongside. It ends rather meekly, but such tender tunes rarely blow out hot. I find myself thinking I really should see what the fuss was about on some form where I can avoid any ads.

Another Happy Day - Ólafur Arnalds

Track list:

1. The Land of Nod
2. Through the Screen
3. Before the Calm
4. Lynn's Theme
5. Alice Enters
6. The Wait
7. A Family Stroll
8. Poland
9. Out to Sea
10. Autumn Day
11. Everything Must Change

Running time: 33 minutes
Released: 2012

Another soundtrack to a film I have not seen. A theme emerging strongly in the discs covered to date. We are back in Iceland again, though this time just for the music. Depending on how this is, I might buy some more of Arnalds' soundtracks but probably not. I expect to quite like this, but not be blown away - how right or wrong shall I be?

As I hit play, I am immediately struck by the tone. Much more sombre and downbeat than I would have expected given the title. The first track is named The Land of Nod, so I was not expecting anything bombastic and big but I was, perhaps naively, expecting a little more positivity. It is instead a dark track that devolves to static. The next tune clears the decks, a moving piano piece - slow and sad. And short. The majority of these tracks are short, and there are not a lot of them. Perhaps it is a very short movie. It is pretty much Arnalds doing what Arnalds does - and if you like his themes as I do there is a fair bit to like. The constant sad edge to things does run the risk of grating after a while, of wearing one down, but the tracks are beautiful in isolation.

Together they blur into much of a muchness, at least for my sleeplessness-addled brain after a late night yesterday and a long day today. I toyed with doing a post for the gig I was at, but shot it down as it would (sadly) ram home just how few I go to recently.

The Wait is the first track over 3 minutes. It is heavily string themed, mournful as ever with lots of pauses between the sighs of bow on hair. The theme is picked up by keys as the track rolls into the next one, a link that I quite like as I notice it for the first time. One thing I will say is that I love the way Arnalds uses those pauses - either brief silences or longer notes that hold pause-like before being let up and something else played instead. Those spaces, hesitations, are constructs that I have come to really appreciate as I have grown older, as I have learned to listen to what is not there, as well as what is and accept silences or inactivity as part of compositions.

Poland has a happier air, not actually happy, but not immediately sad either. Simple piano tune, warmer sounds, wrapped in the familiar strings like a blanket to ward off the cold and dark... until the keys stop and we are back to a very similar sound to those we have been hearing before. There is less bite to the notes though.

Drive. There is finally some drive injected. Out to Sea builds up in an urgent manner, building, threatening, delighting before receding. I was drifting away mentally when I suddenly cottoned on to what was happening and snapped back. Easily my favourite track so far, the change of pace being very welcome even if it is not sustained. The sounds have filled in a bit in the latter half of the disc, more depth, less stark, lonely strings and more melodic harmony. The pauses and the space given to each refrain are diminished or gone and the tracks, whilst longer, go by quicker as a result. I am glad, for as much as the pauses were delightful, the increase in depth and notation means there is more going on to listen in to and out for. It also means that the soundtrack manages to change tone at the right time to retain interest and avoid becoming too much of a one-tone affair as looked possible early on. I do not think I have consciously heard as much staccato playing of strings as on Everything Must Change, where they provide the core structure around which other movements wander. Of course, at the point I type that, they subside and the track melts away until only a haunting theme harking back to the first few tracks emerges, bringing the album to a close on a note similar to how it began.

Angels of the Universe - Hilmar Örn Hilmarsson & Sigur Rós

Track list:

1. Approach/Dream
2. Memory
3. The Black Dog and the Scottish Play
4. Degradation
5. Over the Bend
6. Colours
7. Journey to the Underworld
8. Shave
9. On the Road
10. Another Memory
11. Relapse
12. Coma
13. Schillar in China
14. Helpless
15. Te Morituri
16. Bíum Bíum Bambaló
17. Death Announcements and Funerals

Running time: 41 minutes
Released: 2001

I have the UK version of this, with English track listing. The album is 15 compositions by Hilmarsson and 2 numbers from Sigur Rós on the end. It is a soundtrack to a film I have not seen bought, predictably, because Sigur Rós are mentioned.

That said, I do have music by other Icelandic composers (Ólafur Arnalds has already come up in this project) so whilst I cannot claim familiarity with Hilmarsson there is a good chance I may be interested in his material too. The total time is very short for the number of tracks, with only a few going above 2 minutes... I wonder what magic can be woven in these short pieces.

The opening is fairly dark, not angelic at all, but it opens up after about a minute into a gentle guitar melody and supporting strings which between them craft a nice light space, if a sad one, the guitar sounding mournful and lonely. It closes by drawing in the dark again. Memory... it is as if we have lost ours. New track, very very similar guitar theme, same sort of effect and arrangement. The overall tones here are sombre, moody but touched with a light brush. The guitar of early tracks recedes in later ones in favour of string leads. There are hints of electronic or synth tones too, becoming major features in places; Over the Bend features clicks and percussive electronics quite strongly, meshing this with the string lament. I am not quite sure the combination really works as executed but it is a nice idea before the whole track melts away into weirdness.

This is a soundtrack album, which explains the number of tracks and their breakpoints which, as with Approach/Dream and Memory, do not always make sense or lead to strong similarities between different tracks. It also strengthens the thematic connection, the loneliness and the sombreness, but along with them the sense of a big wide sky and a whole lot of nothingness. I guess that is Iceland for you.

At times the strings get piercingly sharp (I dislike the end of Journey to the Underworld, for instance) but mostly they are rich and deep, enveloping and warm. None of these positive traits manages to oust that singular feeling of being alone in the middle of nowhere though. The visuals I imagine for each track are probably a million miles away from what they actually accompany in the film and I am sure if I had the context of the pictures they partner then the inferences and themes that I took away from listening would be different. How far removed though, I wonder?

Another Memory, a call back to the same theme we heard earlier. Generally I like call back as a technique - particularly in stand up comedy. Musically it is something that can only work when listening to a work in its intended order, so I suspect it will become rarer and rarer going forwards. Concept albums, discs designed to be listened to through and through in order, these things have less place in the modern "download what I like, shuffle everything" world. That is a bit of a pity, though I hold my hand up as being as guilty as anyone of shifting to the new model with regards to home listening. Every so often I will get a hankering for something specific, or endeavour to build a playlist for a certain themed use, but shuffle is far simpler and quicker to get to, even taking all the skipping into account.

I have reached Schillar in China now - through the middle section there have been a couple of tonic shifts, a little more percussion here and there, but it has largely kept the same themes and patterns. I expect a shift for the last two tracks (since Sigur Rós apparently handed over completed tracks for the soundtrack rather than composing songs anew), but the Hilmarsson material has been very consistent on the whole. I like it - though I cannot say I would listen to much of it by choice unless I was specifically in the mood. It does scratch an itch I have though: film scores are great for exposure to more classical composition, something I have never managed in satisfactory manner through other means, much to my own limitation.

According to Eighteen Seconds Before Sunrise Bíum Bíum Bambaló is a take on a traditional Icelandic lullaby. I am a little surprised at how well it fits into Hilmarsson's theme. I should not have been, really - it is pretty classic for the Sigur Rós of 2001 and could easily have come from Ágætis Byrjun. The final track is more of a departure, a rockier piece, their interpretation of a theme played to announce deaths and funerals on Icelandic radio. Quite a dark, brooding track this, more menacing than sombre. It is a harsh way to end a disc that really was not harsh at all.

Overall a pleasing album, better as a whole and approached when in the right spirit for it, but interesting to examine from time to time, too.

... And They Have Escaped the Weight of Darkness - Ólafur Arnalds

Track list:

1. Þú ert sólin 

2. Þú ert jörðin            
3. Tunglið             .
4. Loftið verður skyndilega kalt
5. Kjurrt
6. Gleypa okkur
7. Hægt, kemur ljósið
8. Undan hulu
9. Þau hafa sloppið undan þunga myrkursins

Runtime: 43 Minutes

Released: 2010

So this appears after ... Waltzing Alone because for some reason I had it in my library with no space after the ellipsis. I'm not playing with the order just yet!

I have not listened to this album in full in about the 4 years it has been since it released, and I cannot recall what turned me on to his work but even so I am supremely grateful that something did. Ólafur Arnalds is probably as close to classical music as I have in my library - not because I dislike classical music, but because I find identifying what I like, and more importantly which version played by whom to acquire to be almost impossible in the context of making acquisitions. 

Arnalds is contemporary and I like the "pop song" length of most tracks on this disc. I also imagine it to owe far more to the landscapes of his native Iceland than to any classical traditions. The music is full of space, which my mind's eye sees as big Icelandic skies. That space allows the notes to shine - listening now I have that sense that I can hear each note perfectly as if they were words in a conversation rather than the individual letters that composed those same.

I am excited to listen again. Þú ert sólin is emotional for me. Right around the time I picked this album up, my grandmother died after a battle with cancer and the melancholy yet melodic tune is forever associated with the feeling of bereavement from that. However it is not all sadness - the memory is tempered by the fact that she was ready to go, a day short of 90, and that she was better for no longer suffering. Somehow, this track manages to convey this feeling, too - so tightly wound is it with the immediate aftermath. I am certain that this is an interpretation brought by my mind and memories and I care not a whit if there was any such intent.

Of the album in general, it really is quite a sad work in tone. Strings and keys arranged to tug heartstrings and dampen eyes; the strings wailing, the keys lamenting. What I like about Arnalds though is that over, under or behind this you will find a treasure trove of other sounds... I swear I heard recordings of the sea just now... and was that recorded applause at the end of Kjurrt?

The formula for each track is much the same; a bit like beer: same ingredients in different mixes to get substantially different results. It's midday now, and I am off work sick, but otherwise that comparison would have me reaching for a Hook Norton ale... I have far too much in the house right now as a result of a birthday tour of the brewery 10 days ago. Fascinating place, still running with a lot of Victorian machinery and horse-labour to produce some very fine beers year round, and a stable of seasonals.

I am just starting to feel that the melancholy was getting a bit much to listen all the way through in one sitting when the inclusion of more obvious percussion lifts the timbre a touch to the benefit of my ears. Gleypa Okkur feels much more like a soundtrack piece as a result; not more modern, but more attentive to modern sensibilities, at least until the denouement. It is as this track ends that I realise each piece segues into the next cleanly. I wonder if the album is one work and the tracks just artifacts of convenience. I go to look this up, to stumble over a review pointing out that it was inspired by film - so soundtrack is not a million miles away from the point, then. I find another link that suggests that there is a "story" to the whole work, but that the songs are indeed separate and various in age. The transitions maybe planned later, or happy coincidences, then.

After a couple of welcome tracks with deeper arrangements that have blown by whilst I was off looking for that information I find myself back in the trench with the sparsity but the tone is definitely different now. Less melancholic. The string line is still lonely and the piano is still slow, but the sounds are warmer, maybe tinged with a slight smile. I buy into that story idea, and again linking it back to a film as inspiration that does not feel like a leap. I have enjoyed this a lot - and doing it in daylight rather than the darkening gloom of evening and whilst that little bit more awake has meant that the directions of my thoughts have been more purposeful, less lazy. Alas, that is not always an option.

The final track (an Icelandic translation of the title phrase, apparently) is just drawing to a close. The end refrains are pleasant. I think the muted brass interjection was a poor call, though.