Ulver’s 1996 album ‘Kveldsanger’ has a lot to answer for if you ask me. By the mid-nineties, the concept of black metal bands adding delicate acoustic interludes or introductions to their albums was nothing new, artists quickly cottoning onto the fact that the juxtaposition of frozen, furious aggression and quieter atmospherics made for an intriguing dynamic contrast. However, with Kveldssanger, Ulver took this approach one step further by creating an almost entirely acoustic album. At the time, it was a bold move but one that stylistically made sense – their sense of cold, fireside ambience and bleak vocal approach resulted in a uniquely atmospheric record.
Unfortunately, it has also served to green-light the idea that any musician vaguely associated with the black metal scene who has an element of skill with a nylon-stringed classical guitar can essentially put together 40 minutes of noodling and present it as (to quote from Vali’s press release)‘timeless simplicity and elegance… fragile compositions for acoustic guitars… augmented by yearning string arrangements’. Hmmm.
So, is Skogslandskap a heartfelt opus of haunting fragility or an exercise in meandering unplugged banality?
It is certainly well-executed – ‘Nordavindens Klagesang’ starts promisingly, the guitars plucked with skill – but when the second piece ‘I Skumringstimen’ commences with more or less the same sounds, pacing and dynamics, alarm bells start to ring. The whole album is too clean, too polished, too twee. Flutes pop up to lend a dash of campfire melody and the sombre string sections that underscore many of the songs add a sense of texture and urgency to the melodies but if I’m honest, nothing here really ELEVATES the pieces on offer. Each segment is done and dusted within three minutes without leaving a lasting impression. Yes, it’s certainly pretty but that’s it – genuine compositional depth is in short supply here.
For a record that makes a point of delivering ambience, it is remarkably lacking in this also – it’s a pretty dry sound and the rather whimsical, contrived nature of the neo-classical tinkling of the guitar robs it of any real atmosphere. The aforementioned Ulver record drips with a nocturnal, arboreal force – bands like Lonndom who also occupy similar territory in their more pastoral moments manage to imbue their material with a genuine sense of place, time and conviction. Skogslandskap at many points just sounds like a generic ‘Nature-themed music for lifts -Volume 1’ compilation CD. It really does lack that much by way of character.
Harsh, yes – but given the heights reached by acts such as Tenhi, Syven and a host of other neofolk artists, far more is expected of this sort of material. In amongst the beige soup of homogenous folk-whimsy, there are moments of inspiration – the flute-led intro of ‘Gjemt Under Grener’ or sombre start of ‘El Teppe Av Mose’ – but these are staunchly under-developed, a mere flirtation with a deeper, darker sense of reflection before we are plunged back into never-ending jaunty-acoustic soundscape.
Even more frustrating is the underlying sense that Vali could produce something of genuine impact if they just abandoned the hackneyed pseudo-classical progressions and eschewed unrelenting prettiness in favour of something a little deeper. As it is, this record is a dull and sugary encounter which outstays its welcome long before it finishes.
(4/10 Frank Allain)
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