Østerlide

Norwegian trio 0sterlide cannot be accused of overstatement. This album of folk vignettes is so subtle as to at times be barely there. The opening tracks deploy ambient guitar swells and percussive suggestions, creating a mysterious atmosphere that Liv Ulvik’s voice shines through like a beam of light in fog. It is not until ‘Nykkjen’, five tracks in, that something approaching a groove emerges. This marks a shift from a primeval to an industrial sound world, a transformation that begins with sparse percussive splats and climaxes as Andreas Haddeland lets rip on a grimey noise rock guitar solo.

The album’s unique sonic imprint owes much to percussionist Ulrik Ibsen Thorsrud, who consistently wrong-foots the listener with off-kilter interventions and timbres. On the mournful waltz of ‘Farvel Min Venn’ he conjures an unsettling moan from the bowed saw, using it to double the simple theme plucked by Haddeland on the rubab (Afghan lute). 0sterlide may be understated, but over its hour-long run time it supplies a transformative listening experience. You emerge unsettled, unsure if you wish to return. The brave will find beauty in these musical mists.