Kim Myhr – Sympathetic Magic

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Kim Myhr is such an avid collaborator, releasing an album a year since the dawn of time, that when something comes out under his own name, it is definitely time to sit up and take notice.

Recruiting some fellow travellers and long-time recording artists like Hans Hulbækmo and Ingar Zach amongst others, this latest album takes the premise of 2017’s You/Me and seems to expand it, pushing some of the ideas into new directions, and introducing new textures and sensations into a series of symphonic soundscapes that stretch themselves outward and compress themselves inward, seemingly at will.

Gentle undulations usher wave-like imagery as electronic specks dapple and guitars glimmer on the surface of the swell. Kim’s beloved Yamaha glows over the top, its warm tones creating an oceanic vista that slows the heart and relaxes the mind. It pulses, with each element seemingly moving in and out of focus, creating an intoxicating and slightly distancing effect.

The Yamaha stands out and where applied is the foundation around which the rest of the group construct their dream houseboat. “Gifting Senselessly In Endless Lavishness” is all soft focus and rootless which, considering there are three percussionists and one drum machine involved in the construction of Sympathetic Magic, means judicious use of the willing players; when a rhythm does appear, it is gentle and almost hidden, as if unwilling to intrude.

You can almost feel the collective breathing, a rise and fall of relaxed proportions, a warm heartbeat with all the players seemingly careful of the others, with plenty of space for Kim’s vocals on “Move The Rolling Sky” to unfold at a languid pace. Faint guitars echo in the background as the sing-speak balm puts a welcoming arm around your shoulders, meandering like he has just awoken. These songs streeeetch, with the seven pieces coming in at well over an hour; and that length enables them to shift their shape in an organic and meaningful way, extravaganzas that unfold like the retina burned image of an entire day.

Half-sleepy, the single tone opening of “Up To The Sun Shall Go Your Heartache” is allowed to unfold entirely at its leisure. It slides into simmering drones, a cosmic development that moves into muscular bass-led territory with drums beating out an unexpected message, this mini-symphony gently evolving, seemingly drawing something out of all involved. It feels like such a progression from You/Me, yet the essence is still there. “I Wonder If I Shall Fall Right Through The Earth” starts in a more dynamic way, its compulsive synth at odds with the deft drone; but it drops to a haunted sigh as the piece progresses as if preparing the listener for breathtakingly understated “Heart Streams”.

Here there is so much time to breathe and build as the synth takes us in a truly cosmic direction, space echoing all around us. It feels as though we are gradually drifting away, weightless, seemingly lost until the bass kicks in and brings in some sort of gravity. Do we need it? It is hard to say, but as the drums softly tumble, a drama begins to unfold which we would have missed if gravity hadn’t kicked in. Guitars wheel and a complicated rhythm emerges that drives us onward until the horizon darkens and around us the day falls silent, drifting gently to a padded halt.

It is a slow pan of an ending to an album that places Kim at the forefront of this kind of shimmering, cosmic ambience. Sympathetic Magic is a welcome return after five years and one which needs to be taken in one sitting like some sort of audio therapy. You can’t fail to be lifted by this.

-Mr Olivetti-