Erlend Apneseth – Fragmentarium
Hubro – Out Now
Oslo’s brilliant Hubro Records has been dedicated to releasing the finest, freest and freakiest Norwegian jazz for over a decade now, and their output keeps improving. Their remit is wide, encompassing everything from heavy drone (check out the recent Lumen Drones album) through the Sun Ra and John Coltrane-inspired spiritual jazz of Stein Urheim to exploratory and improvisational avant-folk. Erlend Apneseth is a real jewel in the label’s crown, and his work sits broadly on the folkier side of jazz, in that he predominantly uses traditional instruments – notably the Hardanger fiddle. But in reality, he is impossible to categorise. He has always taken a gregarious approach to collaboration: on last year’s Salika, Molika he worked with accordionist Frode Haltli while here he digs even deeper into the rich seam of the Scandinavian underground scene, enlisting the guitar skills of the aforementioned Urheim, as well as pianist Anja Lauvdal, Fredrik Luhr Dietrichson on double bass, Ida Løvli Hidle on accordion and percussion and multi-instrumentalist Hans Hulbækmo.
Fragmentarium’s appeal lies in how its distinct and complex parts are brought together and made to seem simple. Gangar opens with a series of bright rings that are soon overtaken by an almost danceable stomp. Its influences range from musique concrete to traditional social dance tunes, via a midsection that embraces prog and fusion. There are reflective moments too: the slow arc of Du Fallande Jord is serene and spacy, fleshed out with generous ladles of double bass and minimal piano, while Apneseth’s fiddle presides over it all, exploratory and assured.
The title track combines Lauvdal’s detached electronics with vocal samples handpicked from the audio archive at Norway’s Folkemusikksenteret to create an effect that seems to defy time. Gruvene is a busier proposition, full of mind-bending (and string-bending) improvisation which galvanises into something more focussed but no less imaginative, while the short No, Etterpå is a mournful and deceptively simple fiddle tune which acts as a kind of prelude to Det Mørknar, a brooding, soaring, synth-laden highlight of the album that owes as much to Funkadelic’s Bernie Worrell as it does to any notion of folk music.
Despite Fragmentarium’s disparate influences, there is a theme that runs throughout the album and manifests itself as a kind of flicker, a quick movement between light and dark. It is a way of saying, without words, that everything is included and everything is of importance, the accordion’s exhalation would be nothing without its initial intake of breath, the fiddle notes would not make sense without the space and silence that exists between them. This is an album that owes everything to the interconnectedness of things, and is well aware of that fact. The final track, Omkved, is the perfect example, an ensemble piece that rises and falls almost tidally, where swift musicianship creates the illusion of timelessness and endless repetition. It is elemental and challenging music, but such is the skill of Apneseth and his band it feels beautifully simple.