It has been seven years since Building Instrument‘s previous album, not that the three members have been quiet in the downtime.
Mari Kvien Brunvoll was involved in last year’s Barefoot In Bryophyte, while Øyvind Hegg-Lunde has been involved with Erlend Apneseth and Electric Eye, among others; but when they and Åsmund Weltzien reconvene with their combination of glockenspiel, electronics, subdued beats, found sounds and dreamy vocals, you know that there is magic in the air.
The twelve disparate songs gathered here sound as if they have come from a dream, as if real life is being filtered through gauze; only those elements they feel benefit the mysterious confections constructed here are allowed in. The gentle patter of beats and Mari’s sweet, languid voice are the initial introduction; but interestingly, some of her phrasing shares space with the more abstract modern R’n’B pop flavours. This adds a further dimension to an already unusual sound, with the backdrops at times coming over like a blanket constructed of beats, skittering percussion and warm electronic sounds that bubble like bath water. There is a tranquillity that is helped by the judicious use of repetitive glockenspiel, with the hushed words a drifting daze. The found sounds of bicycle hubs conjure idyllic summers’ days, with the spatter of electronics like the flurry of a sudden shower. Snippets of sound and ambient electronica are whipped together for a brief moment and then it passes and on to the next thing, whether it is a car’s failed starter motor against sparse piano notes or the surprising introduction of actual pop beats as they construct something that would be grazing the charts in another world.I am reminded here and there of some of Stina Nordenstam‘s more esoteric moments, but they do tend to construct their own beat-enhanced cocoon from which they watch the outside world with interest. It is as if the shutters are drawn but the windows are open for a large proportion of the time; and then they steam outside for a moment of revelry where with the canny concoction of beats, glockenspiel and electronic tendrils they construct a beguiling pop confection that rubs shoulders with an experimental aggregation of sounds that feels like a natural continuation of the sort of things Les Baxter and Harry Revel were pioneering in the ’50s.
The sepulchral drone of keys, a stolen moment of withdrawn tranquillity then more skipping beats and the voice a thing of quiet beauty. Although impossible for me personally to decipher, you imagine the language is poetic and elemental touching on the human condition while entwining itself around the carefully placed sounds. From pop perfection to experimental abstraction in the blink of an eye, Månen, Armadillo offers something unexpected each time the album spins. It may have been along wait but it is well worth it.-Mr Olivetti-
