Since The Knife’s 2006 offering “Silent Shout”‘s avalanche of critical acclaim, the brother-and-sister duo took the surprising step of putting their musical collaboration on hiatus. One-half of the duo, Karin Dreijer Andersson, returns as Fever Ray with this eponymously-titled solo album. In the interim years, Dreijer Andersson has given birth to a second child. The sleepless nights that come with a newborn are audibly apparent on “Fever Ray”. But do not be deterred, although this compilation was inspired by new parenthood, there is nothing trite or feebly sentimental about this album’s origins. Karin Dreijer Andersson’s post-natal restlessness provides an audioscape which is definitely located in the small-hours of the morning betwixt darkness and dawn. As electronic music goes, this is not your typical fare. It’s a project stripped down to its bones. It’s stark and it’s gothic but all the while the dissonant beats and primal vocals which characterise The Knife are readily apparent—in fact, in “When I Grow Up”, you can practically visualise yourself running along the misty moor under a full moon.

In “Concrete Walls”, the somnambulant chanting of “I live between concrete walls. In my arms, she felt so small” indicates a languid maternal contentment. On “Now’s The Only Time I Know” the subtle 80s gothic theme which permeates the rest of the album is more obviously audible, as are the multifarious synth-motifs sprinkled throughout the sparse landscape of this album. Dreijer Andersson shakes off some of that drowsying insomnia in the ultimate “Coconut”, in which the dull-thud heartbeat keeping time throughout the preceding tracks is supplanted with a more rapturous tempo akin to that of rolling ocean waves.

This album is daring, and not afraid to be minimalist to the point where some will find it monotonous and repetitive, while others will find it raw and mesmerising.

Tracks to download: Triangle Walks; Now’s The Only Time I Know

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