Amiina - 'Kurr' (Ever) Released 18/06/07

Of all the European countries that regularly feature on the radar of music fans, Iceland is perhaps the one place above all whose unmistakable, breathtakingly poised musical aesthetic is inexorably linked to the reputed beauty and remoteness of the surrounding environment. It’s hard to imagine the likes of Sigur Ros and Bjork emerging from any other place, their challenging and often otherwordly music a direct result of isolated borders and perpetually bright days.

Following firmly in these hallowed footsteps are Reykjavik’s female quartet Amiina. The comparison with Sigur Ros is in fact not purely down to journalistic laziness, but a result of tangible association: Amiina (working at the time as a string quartet) collaborated with the group on both 2002’s ‘()’ and the BBC-friendly soundscapes of ‘Takk’. ‘Kurr’ however is the first time the group has recorded an album of their own, and the minimal, barely-there tracks here betray a clear sense of tentative steps being taken in a bid to establish an identity for themselves. Frustratingly, though the record is on the verge of greatness, you’re left with the feeling that there’s more to the group, and that the twelve tracks here paint only half the picture.

To illustrate the point, a friend of this reviewer saw Amiina last month and described to me with an almost reverent hush how the venue was pin-drop silent even as the band tuned their instruments, creating the image of music so powerful and literally awesome that even the quietest whisper would kill the mood. And listening to this album it’s clear that live Amiina would be nothing short of transcendent. But lacking the communal atmosphere of a few hundered other acolytes, the factor of watching humans actually create these sounds in front of you, and the hair-raising volume of a brittle crescendo, elements of ‘Kurr’ feel unfairly flat.

The opening sparse tones of ‘Sogg’ quickly give way to the record’s first highlight, ‘Rugla’. One of the few tracks that elaborate into ever increasing heights of beauty, its interweaving guitar and piano lines are effectively complemented by the strings introducing themselves a minute in; pitched slightly higher than the rest of the instruments, they add a sense of poignancy to the whole affair. By the time it’s over you’ll think you’ve heard one of the best pieces of music all year. However from the following ‘Glamur’ onwards the music begins to follow a strictly minimal formula, taking one note or one instrument and letting it slowly unfurl with all the attendant rises and slight shifts this entails. Highlights include the vocal-assisted picked-guitar serenity of ‘Hilli’, ‘Sexfaldur’ (which follows Joanna Newsome in attempting to reinstate the harp as an instrument of some force) and the baroque stylings of ‘Lori’, which reminds us of the recent Dungen record (though just not as heavy).

Those looking for the relatively conventional structures of the aforementioned Sigur Ros will be disappointed, although conversely fans of the group (as well as those who love the likes of Four Tet, Explosions In The Sky and Colleen) absolutely need to hear this record. Slightly too one-dimensional to appreciate as an album, as opposed to a collection of individual tracks, ‘Kurr’ will nevertheless be one of the year’s deserved word of mouth sensations. After all, it’s not often can you say a country’s musical identity is perfectly represented by an hour long exercise in ambient, glacial sound pieces.