Erlend Apneseth has had quite the run of albums. One of Norway’s finest, and certainly most interesting, exponents of the Hardanger fiddle, he has graced the exceptional Hubro label with a flurry of increasingly potent releases. Whether as a solo artist, the leader of a trio or a larger ensemble, or in direct collaboration, he has consistently found new ways to present the sound of a traditional instrument. His approach is admirably broad-minded, and his range is eclectic, often wandering towards the wilder edges of improvised jazz and contemporary music without ever losing sight of the Hardanger fiddle’s history or the Norwegian landscapes that are entwined with that history.
Song over Støv (Song over Dust) sees Apneseth in large-scale mode, backed by a full ensemble of eleven other musicians, including three other fiddle players as well as sax, flute, double bass, synth, accordion and percussion. The inspiration for this more maximalist format came after a stint in Frode Haltli’s band, and Haltli returns the favour here, contributing his reliably brilliant accordion. Stylistically, the album is a continuation of Apneseth’s 2017 work Nattsongar, which combined elements of world music, folk and even funk, and blew away any notion that experimental fiddle music was in any way austere.
But despite the sheer number of musicians on show, Song over Støv begins delicately. Straumen Forbi has a meditative, almost far-eastern quality. Its plucked strings and flutes pick out melodies (or almost-melodies) that are as inscrutable and full of glimmering light as the water that flows through an ornamental rock garden. But deep into the track, a rush of bowed strings introduces a layer of tension, which then recedes in the final minute, leaving the listener feeling washed over and somehow changed. Apneseth has always had a knack for building narrative elements into pieces that feel largely improvised, particularly longer tracks, but to do so with such a large group shows a rare level of creative control and confidence.
Variation is another key to Apneseth’s success: I natt’s fluttering flute has a neoclassical feel to it, and its tune feels like a private, almost secret thing. Spring is brisk, jumpy and celebratory, with passages of quiet intensity and a kind of controlled chaos. It moves from impish to imperious without a stutter. The short, sweet Trø arrays abstract strings over a droning background, and closing track, Samdrøm, begins with light and airy fiddles before twisting into lyrical, dreamlike territory. Nothing here feels overworked; even at the densest moments there is always clarity, and the different musical layers are always allowed the space to reveal themselves.
Most impressive is the epic title track begins with an almost industrial lurch of percussion and bass. The sax is almost vocal in its warbling, the accordion is stretched to its limits, and the various fiddles pull each other in different directions. At times, it sounds cacophonous, but subtle threads emerge, and hints of melody repeat themselves in minutely changed forms. Three-quarters of the way through, the instruments drop out, and the melody is taken up by hushed voices. The effect is vaguely ritualistic but also calming, perhaps even nostalgic. There are elements of the progressive acid-folk of Comus, but the theatrics are dialled down, and the atmosphere is cranked right up.
Apneseth has spoken of his wish ‘to compose more for musical personalities than for instruments’, and this absolutely shines through on Song over Støv, where every element exists as a unique voice, worthy of its own space but always serving the collaborative whole. It’s an album without a hint of excess, masterfully crafted and brilliantly performed.
Song over støv (April 4th, 2025) Hubro
