This gem almost went amiss. Its subtleties slithered to a silence, a withdrawn instrumental softness letting this listener go by. Lacking gusto, bite or immediacy, only the striking resemblance to fellow Nordic queen Aurora held me in. If not another charmed, utterly gorgeous voice, the likeness would border plagiarism. Timbre, temperament, flow and inflections all swoon like a deja-vu. Its why I stuck around. With each listen I felt further from the words I initially wanted to share in this space.
The Line is a record of awe inducing landscapes, the resonance of which expressed aptly through its album art. Crimson skies lurch, whispering clouds part, the sunlight aches in to bless the primal earth beneath. We experience tits wonders as heathen inhabitants, devoid of technology and gods alike. Clearly a part of the growing Nordic Folk movement, Kalandra's strings pull on an endearing warmness. Unlike fellow contemporaries Wardruna and Heilung, they peer not into the northern darkness.
One could pen them as Soft Prog, gentle foragers of atmospheres with felicitous moments of Post Rock swelling and Etheral dreaminess. Tranquil, soothing and calm in nature, its rare flashes of hurried pacing, harmless brooding and climactic roars seem perfectly architectured, as if a force of nature. On its weathered journey outpacing the storm, occasions of rest incur with folkish tunes and tales. It all speaks to the ancestral human, married to mother earth, one that rumbles deep within us all.
And so with every passing listen, my initial foolishness, a deluded disappointment, fortunately grew distant. Somehow I was rustled by these "over indulged" instruments. Keen for vibrant melodies, a punchy baseline or tribal percussive groove, I was aloof to the atmospheric magic unfolding. Quiet is a strength, one that passed me by. The instrumental craft, a careful curation. Licks, grooves, riffs are subtly snug, every inch of aesthetic measured, fit together under a masterplan where nothing overpowers.
There are no particulars that leap of the page. Every song is a journey blossoming from a perpetual mellow flow. The record thus becomes river. Drop in, let its coolness wash over you and chill out. With at least a bakers dozen of spins under the belt now, it still grows on me. No doubts here, this could be honey that sticks for time to come.
Rating: 8/10