Review Summary: In a musical cosmology obsessed with the paisley patterned, sepia toned nostalgia of the ‘60s and ‘70s, Allas Sak firmly reinstates Dungen's reputation as the most accomplished of psychedelic wizards.
There is something unique and powerful about listening to music sung in a foreign tongue. It’s an experience that straddles the liminal zone between instrumental and traditional, language-centric songwriting. Remove the lyrical content of a song and the human voice is newly emblazoned in glorious technicolour - every rasp, rattle and groan is seemingly heard afresh when no longer confounded by the cerebral distraction of linguistics. While the Swedish lyrics penned by frontman Gustav Ejstes - who masterminds the songwriting and recording process - by no means define the sound of Dungen, they have always contributed to the band’s unique and enigmatic aesthetic. Here, however, this language barrier helps position
Allas Sak as their most powerful and emotive effort yet.
Allas Sak further refines and builds upon many of the elements introduced by its predecessor,
4. Here the raucous virtuosity of
Ta Det Lugnt - the band’s much-lauded 2004 breakout - is toned back in favour of a more considered approach to songwriting, wherein melody and atmospherics take precedence over technicality. Where Dungen’s trademark blend of psychedelia and pop has recently inspired the success of bands like
Tame Impala and
Unknown Mortal Orchestra,
Allas Sak seeks to reinstate their dominion over the genre.
The album’s eponymous opener is a wonderful statement of intent in this regard: a bouncing rhythm section grounds Ejstes’ restless vocal melody, while meandering reverb-soaked guitars provide heady atmospherics on the peripheries. The wandering bassline and harmonised vocals of ‘Sista Festen’ - perhaps the album’s most accessible track - nod to mid-‘60s era Beatles, as do the duelling guitars and meandering drum grooves that follow on ‘Sisten Gästen’. As always, the eclectic array of instrumentation on show here is overwhelming: melodies are reinforced with flutes and horns; rhythms with bongoes and auxiliary percussion; each layer always complementing but never diluting the vivacity of the song at hand.
Where the first half of
Allas Sak embraces pop sensibilities, the second travels a decidedly more progressive path. ‘En Dag Pa° Sjo¨n’ is a tantalising throwback to the improvisational realm Dungen once inhabited, affording guitarist Reine Fiske the opportunity to showcase his mastership of tone and feel. ’Flickor Och Pojkar’ is the album’s first real stumble: the dreary, downtempo Rhodes melody and hiphop-inspired beat are - while promising - marred by obnoxious production choices that fail to further the song. The monolithic ‘Sova’ is a satisfying conclusion however, limping through downcast verses and oppressive choruses before petering out in a magnificent deluge of pedal oscillation and cymbal swells.
Dungen’s eighth album is undoubtedly their most homogenous, elucidating the type of overarching vision their back catalogue lacks. Longterm listeners may miss the rambunctious instrumentation of earlier material, but will find renewed passion in Ejstes’ singing; his indecipherable wailing - often the focal point here - has never sounded so inspired. Contrarily, the record’s vocal-centricity, pop sensibility and short runtime positions it as a fantastic entry point for the unacquainted. In a musical cosmology obsessed with the paisley patterned, sepia toned nostalgia of the ‘60s and ‘70s,
Allas Sak firmly reinstates Dungen's reputation as the most accomplished of psychedelic wizards.
