ALBUM REVIEW: Anna Thorvaldsdottir’s ‘AEQUA’

by Gabriela Tedeschi

Photo by Saga Sigurdardottir.

Anna Thorvaldsdottir treats each of her works as an ecosystem. Musical materials—motifs, harmonies, textures—are passed from performer to performer through her pieces, constantly developing and transforming. Like different species in an ecosystem, these elements sometimes coexist peacefully and sometimes compete or clash.

In her new album AEQUA, Thorvaldsdottir works with performers from the renowned International Contemporary Ensemble (ICE) to create a variety of musical ecosystems of different sizes, featuring both large and small chamber ensembles. The album captures the beautiful chaos of the natural world, the individual voices evolving and intertwining across each piece.

AEQUA’s small ensemble works—“Spectra,” “Sequences,” “Reflections,” and “Fields”—are characterized by the integration of slow, lyrical string melodies into dense, unwieldy sound worlds. As the materials are passed around the ecosystem of instruments, the melodies—calm and plaintive—rise to prominence in some moments and at others descend into the eerie whirl of sound created by sustained, clashing harmonies, percussive bursts, and darker permutations of the melody itself.

There is a constant ebb and flow throughout the chamber works as the performers crescendo, then decrescendo, join in energetically all at once to form an intricate texture, then fade away to leave only a gentle melody or quiet sustained tone. This consistent pattern of rising and falling intensity gives a cyclic quality to the pieces, as though the musical ecosystem is transforming across life cycles and seasons.

The circle effect is also used in Thorvaldsdottir’s large ensemble works, “Aequilibria” and “Illumine.” Running chromatic motifs create wild spirals of sound, the cyclic rise and fall unfolding rapidly and with greater intensity. There are moments of calm when the chaotic texture gives way to lyrical melodies and gentle sustained tones, but forceful percussion and chromatic outbursts quickly interrupt the peace.

The album’s only solo piece, “Scrape,” performed by ICE pianist Cory Smythe, manages to capture this complex interplay of different species in an ecosystem with just one instrument. While the piece is largely situated in the lower register of the piano with heavy, thudding rhythms and a rich, dark timbre, there are clear, piercing runs in the higher register that interrupt and play off of the low sounds. Moments of silence are incorporated, building anticipation for the looming rise in intensity and playing into the cyclical nature of AEQUA.

In its own way, each piece on the album feels as though you’re walking through the forest or staring into the depths of the ocean, observing the peaceful and violent ways creatures and plants coexist. The complex interplay of melodies, harmonies, and rhythms as they develop—both working together and clashing—creates a kind of beauty that, like the natural world, is at times unsettling and overwhelming, but endlessly captivating.

VIDEO PREMIERE: ‘Spirals’ by Maria Huld Markan Sigfusdottir

Nordic Affect (Left to right: Hanna Loftsdóttir, Guðrún Hrund Harðardóttir, Halla Steinunn Stefánsdóttir, and Guðrún Óskarsdóttir.)  Photo by David Oldfield.

by Maggie Molloy

“Hér” is the Icelandic word for here. That idea of being present—of listening, of connecting here and now through music is at the heart of Nordic Affect’s new album He(a)r. Out now on Sono Luminus, the album is a collection of seven world premiere recordings penned by women composers and performed by women musicians.

He(a)r is an ode to hear, here, hér, and her,” writes Halla Steinunn Stefánsdóttir, the ensemble’s artistic director and violinist. Wide-ranging sound worlds from Stefánsdóttir, Anna Thorvaldsdottir, María Huld Markan Sigfúsdóttir, Mirjam Tally, and Hildur Guðnadóttir comprise the album, each offering a distinct perspective on the ways in which we hear and create sound—our individual voices and the ways in which they interact.

“Spirals,” one of two works contributed by María Huld Markan Sigfúsdóttir, circles around these themes and expands outward: dense chords, hazy melodies, and fragmented sounds from an old music box echo and grow into an immersive meditation on time itself.

We are thrilled to premiere a brand new video for Sigfúsdóttir’s composition “Spirals,” performed by Nordic Affect.


Nordic Affect’s He(a)r is out now on Sono Luminus. Click here to listen to the full album.

Sneak Peek Audio Leak: Daníel Bjarnason’s ‘Collider’

by Maggie Molloy

Photo by Börkur Sigthorsson.

Daníel Bjarnason’s music is at its most potent when he’s writing for symphony orchestra. He has a masterful way of balancing the cavernous depths of a large ensemble against moments of shimmering near-silence, often within a matter of seconds. 

His luminous orchestrations are on full display in his forthcoming album Collider, a collection of three works that glisten with timbral detail. Bjarnason conducts the Iceland Symphony Orchestra in the lively, interlocking textures of “Blow Bright” before transitioning to the haunting three-part work “The Isle is Full of Noises,” a setting of three monologues from Shakespeare’s The Tempest featuring the ethereal vocals of the Hamrahlid Choir.

“Collider” unwinds a bit more slowly, moments of eerie stillness gradually building into an eruption of restless energy that pulls the listener deeper and deeper into a shifting sound maze. We’re thrilled to premiere the title track from the brand new album ahead of its October 26 release date. Click below to hear Bjarnason’s “Collider.”


Daníel Bjarnason’s Collider comes out October 26 on Bedroom Community. Click here to pre-order the album.

ALBUM REVIEW: Recurrence by Iceland Symphony Orchestra with Daníel Bjarnason

by Maggie Molloy

Iceland is the most sparsely populated country in all of Europe—with a population just half the size of Seattle’s—and yet somehow, it has cultivated one of the biggest, boldest, and most iconic new music scenes of the 21st century.

Exhibit A: the Iceland Symphony Orchestra’s newest album.

Recurrence is a collection of five utterly ethereal works written by a handful of emerging and established Icelandic artists: Anna Thorvaldsdottir, Thurídur Jónsdóttir, Hlynur A. Vilmarsson, María Huld Markan Sigfúsdóttir, and Daníel Bjarnason, who also serves as the orchestra’s conductor and Artist-in-Residence on the album.

It’s a lineup that is emblematic of Iceland’s radiant new music scene, known for its massive, slow-moving sound sculptures illuminated with delicate instrumental details. Each piece on the album is a gorgeously abstracted soundscape in itself, showcasing the small Nordic island’s all but unparalleled explorations of texture, timbre, and immersive, atmospheric colors in music.

The album begins with Thurídur Jónsdóttir’s surging “Flow & Fusion,” a sparkling sound mass for orchestra and electronics—but here’s the twist: the electronics are all derived from recordings of the actual instruments of the orchestra, creating a kaleidoscopic aural effect that plays off the concert hall’s acoustics. The sonic seascape ebbs and flows across the entire orchestra, swelling in glorious waves of sound and evaporating back into near-silence.

It’s followed by Hlynur A. Vilmarsson’s sprawling “BD,” which gradually transforms from an amorphous blur of low-pitched vibrations into a rhythmic, tightly-constructed sound off of nearly every distinctive timbre and extended playing technique in the orchestra. Muliphonics, glissandos, prepared piano, vertical bowing, harmonic overtones, and nontraditional percussion instruments all make an appearance in this playfully orchestrated exploration of the symphonic outer limits.

An entire ocean of sound comes alive in María Huld Markan Sigfúsdóttir’s “Aequora,” which takes its name from the Latin word for the calm surface of the sea. Sigfúsdóttir takes the image a step further, emulating the majestic beauty of the sea both under softly glistening sunlight but also under the exquisite lightning of an ominous storm: soft strings and whispering winds evoke the sustained surface of the sea amidst swelling percussion motives and brilliantly colored washes of deep brass.

The theatrical climax of the album comes with Daníel Bjarnason’s cinematic three-movement “Emergence,” an aurally arresting exploration of darkness and light. The piece traces the arc of existence from the vast expanse of total darkness to the life-giving warmth of breath, touch, and worldly textures—and all the way out into the luminous, incandescent light of outer space.

The album closes with Anna Thorvaldsdottir’s “Dreaming,” an icy and ethereal illumination of the beauty of utter stillness. Enormous sound masses sparkle with delicate orchestrational nuance in a sound world so stunning that it almost seems to halt time itself.

It’s a reminder, like so many of the works on this album, to be still, to listen—and to dream in shimmering detail.

ALBUM REVIEW: Olafur Arnalds’ Island Songs

by Rachele Hales

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There is a tourism boom in Iceland, but those of us who cannot make it there in person should be glad for Ólafur Arnalds’ Island Songs project, which is designed to offer an aural journey through the lesser travelled landscapes with guidance from the locals who live there.

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Arnalds starts us off in a church on a hillside in Hvammstangi, a remote town on the shore of an inlet. This is where poet & collaborator Einar Georg Einarsson comes to escape his everyday worries and explore creativity through writing. Einarsson begins “Árbakkinn” with a recitation of one of his own poems; a poem about the landscape he painted his childhood against. As Arnalds joins him with a tranquil piano and the strings eventually drift in it’s easy to imagine a restful day in Hvammstangi, with the easy flow of the nearby stream and a handful of small fishing boats bobbing in the nearby fjord.

He packs up his bags and heads five hours northwest to Önundarfjörður, a town surrounded by mountains and valleys where the winters are harsh. In 1995, a disastrous avalanche killed many people in a small village nearby. “1995” was recorded in a church with a memorial stone outside in remembrance of the villagers whose lives were lost. Here, Arnalds collaborates with his cousin, Dagny Arnalds. She plays the organ in a looping, funereal piece.

Arnalds spent week 3 in ”The Church of Sailors,” a small stave church situated on an isolated landscape near the ocean. “Raddir” is the first of two island songs that uses vocals.  Arnalds has teamed up with conductor Hilmar Örn Agnarsson and composer Georg Kári Hilmarsson to create a celestial work for choir. I have not mentioned the accompanying videos to the Island Songs project until this point. I do it now to prove that I don’t use the word “celestial” carelessly.  In Baldvin Z’s video, the camera pans a circle around the church and catches the sun filtering through the church windows, projecting dozens of tiny rainbows onto the walls. This, accompanied by the choir’s otherworldly harmonies, definitely left this viewer with the feeling of transcendence.

Week five. We’re in Mosfellsdalur now. I will point you again toward Baldvin’s companion video, this time to “Dalur” — the look on Arnalds’ face at the very end of the song says more than I could put into words.

Is it the lamp of Garður’s’ lighthouse that lured Arnalds to his sixth destination in as many weeks or the siren call of Nanna Bryndís Hilmarsdóttir, lead vocalist for Of Monsters and Men? Spoiler alert: Nanna Bryndís Hilmarsdóttir. One hundred percent. It’s inside a lighthouse on Garður’s’ wind-battered waterfront where Arnalds records his penultimate island song, “Particles.” No surprise it’s as tender and vulnerable as the first five.  Hilmarsdóttir’s voice carries a quiet power and is joined by violin, cello, and of course Arnalds on piano. “Particles” captures the same mood as the rest of the album but Hilmarsdóttir’s vocals perk up the ears and make this composition a little extra special.

In Baldvin’s video, many of the friends Arnalds made during his road trip gather to hear him play the last piece of this project, “Doria,” in Arnalds’ own hometown of Reykjavik. It’s week 7, and they form a half moon around the pianist on the floor of a concert hall in the only video in which he is center stage. Encompassed by the people who have inspired him along the way, he closes out Island Songs with pleasant piano loops. His perfect goodnight kiss.

In every Island Songs composition it’s clear this was a passion project for Arnalds. By choosing to honor the sacred relationship between people and their communities he has illustrated a versatile portrait of Iceland and the stories it has to tell. He doesn’t introduce us to rock stars or Iceland’s tourist attractions, but offers instead the chance to meet the people who serve their communities and treats us to sparse, serene music that mirrors the terrain he set out to explore. Island Songs is beauty, focus, and hushed Icelandic panoramas. It is superb.

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