Review Summary: The musical equivalent of Caspar the friendly ghost.
It takes a lot of charm for an album to make you feel as if it's slow-dancing with you, and even more for you to admit that on the internet. Fredrik have made such an album.
Trilogi, so named because it's a collection of three EP's, sees North-European folk balanced very delicately with a subtle, but substantial, electronic edge. The focus here is on creating an ethereal atmosphere though heavily layered instruments and effects, with the vocals taking on a support role.
This relationship between the vocals and the rest of the band isn't too unfamiliar, though rarely is it done quite as drastically as in
Trilogi. On top of many of the 12 songs being purely instrumental, the vocals are usually confined to humming or "oh's" and other nonsensical sounds. This decision is certainly understandable form Fredrik's perspective: internationally understood noises probably come easier than English lyrics. When lyrics are used, however, there's no inherent weakness with them. What they lose in virtuosity they make up for by setting scenes fitting to the warm, welcoming atmosphere. Hultin's (frontman) voice adds to this by being soft and quiet in such a way as to blend in to the music surrounding it.
The music itself is where
Trilogi shines, however. Despite totaling only three members, Fredrik use a vast array of instruments: from your standard band affair of guitars and percussion to the more adventurous horns, bells and strings... though it's what they
do with these instruments that really matters. The music is nostalgic in a beautiful,
Boards of Canada-esque way. It paints a picture of a clear skies childhood, it's soft, it's fuzzy, it's gentle it's... hang on, there's something else going on here.
As
Trilogi progresses, it gets steadily more disturbing. By the time
Ner roles around the electronics are distorting this picture-perfect image - the charm goes on but suddenly we have this quite creepy undertone. In fact, it progresses to the point where the closing track
Omberg is a deeply unsettling, instrumental epic which wouldn't look out of place in a horror movie trailer: at first listen it's welcoming, but soon joined a sense of foreboding. It's a display of the sheer amount of charm in
Trilogi that this underlying edge only serves to further entice the listener into the atmosphere, instead of pushing them out of it.
It takes a few listens for the entirety of
Trilogi to hit you, but those who're willing to loose themselves in dreamy electro-folk then there isn't much better out there.
