EINAR SOLBERG

Einar solberg. Yes his voice is far beyond amazing with a set of lungs to match. This collection of live acoustic performances takes my breath away as I give up that inner desire to sing along, I wouldn't do that to mr. Solberg. But, but, it's not only the voice. His delivery and the emotion with which his vocals fall through and beyond the music of his piano playing simply demands singular attention. He has a great talent for leaving both space and feeling within these acoustic versions of songs from Leprous. Amazingly these renditions feel full and heavy with intention, magically nothing is lost in the pared down versions. Stunning. Heartfelt. Painful. Beautiful.

I don't quite know what is in the water in Norway, but I know from studying history that the Norsk Hydro plant made heavy water and was sabotaged during WW2 by commandos thus preventing the Nazis to move forward with an A-bomb. Then seeing Morten Harkett (of Aha) sing in a live setting in the 90s really got me wondering about Norse vocal talent, because we all knew that the Leprous lead lung had quite a wallop to his delivery too. But on his debut solo album, Einar Solberg displays a voice so overpowering that it made my hair stand up more than a dozen times, as I was going through this album the very FIRST TIME! Stunningly eloquent, crystalline clear, at times verging on vertiginous and intrepid, this is one hell of a vocalist. He also happens to be quite proficient on the various electronic keyboards at his disposal. And yes, I know that he has a day job as leader of Leprous, a heavier band that veers towards more muscular musical horizons . This is a solo album that points at a more personal musical universe, unrestrained from stylistic obligations. Truth be told, the Covid pandemic did provide the perfect laboratory (through force majeure) for such profound inner ruminations, exposing all the inner spleen within our solitude. Thus, in the typical introspective fashion the Scandinavians are known for, Einar delves into issues that confront each living human at some point in their lives: anxiety, self worth, depression (according to may sources, the number one killer, way ahead of cancer and heart attack) and many other variations on tragedy and despair. The instrumentation is mostly kept minimalist, really focusing the spotlight on that most expressive of voices, as witnessed on the introductory title track, the sweet sixteen of his/our youth. The sound is appropriately macrobiotic, as innocence is defined in its purity.

Things get mightily electronic as well as gaspingly deep on the reflective "Remember Me", a pleading anthem that suavely navigates the impressions of moments and persons past, the voice angelic, serene, and passionate. As the arcane drum shuffle offers a sense of chaos and loss, the strings pushing back with a smile, creating this endlessly contrasting piece, suddenly torn to shreds by a violent guitar that only elevates the rise and the range of his lament. Xylophone ending tucks this one under the blanket. Reprieve with a pop ballad, "A Beautiful Life" a theme about failure of feelings, as those 2 words are intertwined and recurrent, the anger contrasting with brightness in the future, a perfect example of how extreme life can often be within the routine of living a "normal" existence. Yes, the morass of routine can kill you, just read some Albert Camus. Change of direction, a piano-led neo-classical etude "Where All the Twigs Broke" stuns by its initially simple complexity, the choppy vocal describing dizzying confusion and distress, the electronic orchestrations ominous and doom-laden, the binary drum beat concussing, courtesy of Keli Gudjonsson. As if turtling under the threat, the arrangement reverts to the piano's relative calm, though still very much troubled by all the drama. An excellent piece of music.

Could not help being influenced by the classic movie Minority Report with a title such as "Metacognitive", as the composition is highly futuristic and oddly hesitantly mechanical, underlying angst and incomprehension, as if jagged images constantly flutter in and out of one's exhausted mind. The electronica is first-rate, though understated as he yells 'get me out of here' recurring ad infinitum. Not too fond of the mumbo-jumbo funky opening to "Home" but it mercifully veers to a more comfortable plane with some fascinating vocals from Einar, then it reverts to a rap section that again does nothing for me. Though the harmony vocal work is worthy of the greats (Hello, Freddie).

Back to sparser universes, which suits this artist fine, as his command of singing is beyond reproach, with the soothing, almost after midnight feel of "Blue Light", a doleful cello as the perfect companion to the soulful voice (think Jimmy Somerville) and an uncluttered electro context that keeps the seven-minute candle from being blown out. Overarching splendour. The chosen single "Grotto" is ear-candy, possibly the most direct, radio-friendly marketing tool to deliver this album to the masses and as such is perfectly done though not really groundbreaking in comparison with the more "progressive" pieces on the menu. To prove the point, "Splitting the Soul" is highly creative with dabs of electronica, hints of Gregorian chanting and superlative singing that is seemingly fueled by helium, here is the proof. When he gets down to a lower register, he sounds spooky and frantic as if imbued with a recent Gary Numan-like mixture of coldness with tempestuous angst. In fact, it veers almost into growl mode, which suits 'the winds of Valhalla' background perfectly. Gruesome at times but I love the doomsday feel. The funereal magnificence of "Over the Top" is as bare as it gets, silky voice and resonant piano notes with fluttering vocalizations, superb violins coalesce in a loving embrace, and is the exact opposite of over the top. Perhaps under the bottom, as it certainly hits a nadir of exasperation as delivered by the bombastic finale. Exceptional track, perhaps my favourite here.

"The Glass is Empty" is an 11-minute epic farewell, a sublimely constructed edifice of sound and fury, combining all the previous elements into one giant mosaic of progressive bliss. Gigantic swaths of mellotron winds, thrashing drums and unhinged guitar slashes push all the overdrive buttons, alternating melody and sharpness, a massive snowplough chorus clearing the white carpeted road ahead. A mid-section offers a resonating piano lilt, as if counting the ticks and tocks on the clocks, begging to know that it's only half-empty or half-full and not a bone-dry glass of despair. Forget my fantasy preamble and hunt this dense tornado down, 11 master tracks, with only one that is not my cup of akvavit, my bad I guess but I am not sixteen anymore.

4.5 Nordic teenagers