A cellist, and Icelandic, she’s appeared on at least 18 albums, some solo, most in collaboration with others. This is one of the solos. It was recorded in one take, say the album notes. No messing with it afterwards. And the sound is ambient, humming, and claustrophobic, as though the studio was a small room and purposeful bees lived there, in woolly scarves. This is an album in a definite space, and the cello sets out to cram that space. There’s singing too, hers, not a lot, and electronics. Hildur Guðnadóttir is possibly most recognisable from her time with múm but she’s also done a little compositional arranging for Throbbing Gristle and it’s Gristle she’s closer to here, on this album, pounding, as she does, if cellos can pound—sawing then—getting louder and firmer through the 35-minute track that takes up almost all of Leyfðu Ljósinu. At first I wasn’t convinced. Was it too minimal? Then decided: not if your object is ambient cramming. She ambiently crams.
- Multiple songs MySpace
We all know how critical it is to keep independent voices alive and strong on the Internet. Please consider a donation to support our work as an independent publisher devoted to the arts and humanities. Your donation will help PopMatters stay viable through these changing and challenging times where advertising no longer covers our costs. We need your help to keep PopMatters publishing. Thank you.
// Sound Affects
"Sharon Jones and Woodie Guthrie knew: great songs belong to everybody.READ the article