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about this album
Once you hear the plangent cry that swoons us into “Darkness Falls,” you know you’re in Rypdal territory... Although the album has been reissued on CD, the 24-minute Rolling Stone sadly did not survive the digital makeover. A gorgeous, organ-infused underwater symphony, it flows like a Robin Guthrie excursion with its tinny echoes and whammy bar ornaments before bringing on the album’s most rock-oriented developments. -- (It's available only the Vinyl version.) It is a place of intense clarity and emotive immediacy. The solid bass vamp of “Midnite” (courtesy of Sveinung Hovensjø), which presses on for the next 17 minutes, epitomizes the Rypdal of old with its progressive solitude. A carefully pedaled guitar and alluring soprano sax (played by Rypdal himself) careen through its nocturnal billows with a humble melodic ferocity as Torbjørn Sunde lights the sky with his muted trombone. The following “Adagio” is a classic in and of itself. Its Solina strings paint a dark but clearly discernible picture, into which Rypdal’s guitar spills its ether: a statement of autonomy in its coolest disguise. “Better Off Without You” walks in circles, only occasionally poking its head above the watery depths of its indecision. “Over Birkerot” transplants us into a punchier setting. The guitar is still firmly grounded here but rife with narrative fertility. Grumbling horn blasts (think Hans Zimmer’s soundtrack to Inception on a smaller scale) add deeper visceral impact. Midway through, Rypdal
