Home Musical score Anja Lauvdal: From a History Now Lost Album Review

Anja Lauvdal: From a History Now Lost Album Review


The album begins with a slowly unfolding chord whose provenance is unclear; in the background there is a faint metallic clink, like the lid banging on a boiling pot. A subliminal hint of melody stirs just below the surface of the long, languid synth tones. Things rarely get much more final than this, and each time they do, entropy quickly reasserts itself. In “The Dreamer,” a boldly declarative theme suggests half-remembered film music before sinking back into darkness, shrouded in birdsong, crickets, and what might be the clanking of cowbells in the pasture. . Much of the album, in fact, feels like it’s happening behind a canvas of white noise and an August vibe.

There’s a worn, wrinkled feel to the texture of the music, as if the tape had been pulled from its spools, wadded up, and left in a damp basement for a season or two before being smoothed out and returned to the machine. . Repetition is at the heart of many of these pieces – the skippings of “Fantasie for Agathe Backer Grøndahl” vaguely recall oval Where John Jelinek– even though Lauvdal’s loops tend to morph over time, mutating with each jerky repetition. Even in the absence of obvious melodies, Lauvdal’s meditative, gently rounded tones have a way of soaking up your spirit. The stained pipe organs of “Darkkantate” evoke dusty beams of light illuminating the mossy pews of a ruined abbey. The ruminative piano of “Clara” recalls Consolidator but without such an intense feeling of depression, it’s less gloomy than simply lost in thought.

At the end of the day, Of a story now lostThe emotions of are as ambiguous as its amorphous forms. In “Xerxesdrops”, which draws on an affective register similar to Harold Bud and the Cocteau twinsThe moon and the melodies, a flowing, wandering piano melody circles over slow, detuned synths; it can come across as sad if you wish, but in another mood it can also pass as airy, hopeful, or simply distracted, reflecting the movement of an absent mind. Of a story now lost offers a provocative update to Brian EnoThe old maxim of mood music: Forget the balance between the ignorant and the interesting – perhaps the mood should also be as deadpan as it is infused with feeling.

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Anja Lauvdal: from a now lost story