Three years after being taken on the wonderful journey of Berdreyminn, Solstafir are back with their seventh full-length album. If you are anticipating a trip through the harsh weather and nature of Iceland though you are possibly going to find things here a little different. The moods and emotions are inward looking and at times quite heart-breaking on an album which deals with mental disorder and the grief of depression and alcoholism that men at times feel is a taboo subject and one that is oft kept to themselves to suffer in silence. It is we are told something all band members have suffered with and that they have helped combat it by giving up alcohol collectively, a difficult move to make especially when touring the world. There are clues about things here but they are not so easy to decipher as although the album title is in English most of the lyrical output by Aðalbjörn “Addi” Tryggvason is sung in its native tongue. However, it is as always so damn expressive interpretation is not so hard to determine. Also, one is drawn to the striking artwork which depicts a rare colour rendition of Johann Baptist Zwecker Lady Of The Mountain an 1864 watercolour well known and loved by Icelanders depicting the female personification of their land. Yes, it has been pointed out just how Mellon Collie it is making the Infinite Sadness of the album an at times difficult listen especially if you are going through a bad patch whilst listening; something that at time of release we all are right now.

Leaving attempts of further interpretation and clumsy translation aside to focus on the music we start with the first track, the ten-minute Akkeri. Classic proto rock guitar drenches with a maudlin atmosphere, the lyrics expressed with a weariness perhaps at the world and all its current trials. Suddenly it hits powerfully and swaggers off on one of the albums most rugged movements. Hallgrímur Jón Hallgrímsson’s drumming here deserves mention as it pounds away and along with the angsty rise in vocals really reflects the pain but in a somewhat uplifting and jubilant fashion. The album is full of such paradoxes but I have found over repeated listens that it is far more sombre than life-affirming overall so you may well want to make the most of this part as it is not long before doom and gloom are again a central focus. Still the band keep things flowing, every instrument here focussed upon, Svavar Austmann’s bass parts particularly bearing the moribund coffin you can imagine each of the four players holding a corner of carrying towards a final resting place. The guitar melody should not be forgotten either here, Sæþór Maríus Sæþórsson parts weep away and enforce it all perfectly. Whatever is being laid to rest is done so with plenty of passion and beauty. The upbeat parts the remembrance and the wake. They flow into Drýsill and perhaps the best thing you can do with that is watch the animated video. The song sounds like an elegy, glum, self-reflected and painful. As I said it’s not an easy or particularly cheerful listening experience; the best way to deal with songs like this is definitely not grabbing a bottle of spirits and downing isolated sorrows whilst listening to it. The post-rock canvas however does reflect some gorgeous expansiveness and one can listen and no doubt hear The Lady Of The Mountains herself swooning away in the background. The neo-classical fragility of Rökkur with what sounds like violin and xylophone are not a pick up in the slightest either. Stripped back with raw emotion the vocals are tough in the more spoken rendition and at first you may just find them a bit too on the “emo” side to cope with. It’s certainly a track that one needs to look at more in context with the overall themes and narrative. Musically the stripped back nature giving them even greater weight. We get some English and plenty of rack and ruin on Her Fall From Grace. Again, the video tells it all a tale of the destructive nature of alcoholic addiction, far from cheerful as it contemplates a slow route to losing everything.

Dionysus takes us into the album’s rage and fury, it sounds like Tryggvason is throwing a temper tantrum and at first I had the same problem with this as Rökkur but it is again all about the context and who hasn’t let the demons in and smashed up the place in the grip of madness? This strikes as the soundtrack to doing so and even if you are not grasping the situation you can definitely rock out and headbang for 5 minutes or so. Stylistically there is plenty going on here, we get sorrowful, almost pop-like numbers such as Til Moldar and a compulsive signature rock riff central to Alda Syndanna which could indeed have escaped from a Smashing Pumpkins or RHCP song and there’s even a spot of lounge laden jazz on Or Is it an album that reflects hope or is it just too pessimistic, are demons battled and laid to rest? Well there’s no definite answers to that and like mental duress it is something that never truly goes away, coping mechanisms can be utilised and perhaps this album is one such way that Solstafir have partially dealt with their trials? One thing is for certain, this is a tough album and it may well move the listener to tears so don’t go into it without being prepared for that eventuality and you may well come out the other side feeling somewhat rewarded by the experience.

(7.5/10 Pete Woods)

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https://solstafir.bandcamp.com/album/endless-twilight-of-codependent-love