SIN FANG - Summer Echoes

"Being Sindri Már Sigfússon", this is what the Icelandic musician's career boils down to: a constant quest for and exposure of himself, through which listeners can piece together that "anthropology of the mind" shaping the different expressive modes emerging in the two separate projects he leads (in this case, entirely on his own). In this synaptic archipelago, two tribes coexist: the settled, harmless Seabear and, not far off, the clan of nomads and hunters led by Sin Fang (Bous).

What's summed up in Sin Fang, an alias now significantly stripped of the unpredictable "Bous" (while "Sin" stands for Sindri and "Fang" refers to his apparently fang-like teeth), is a rapacious, colourful people, who look down on the mild fishing and foraging ways of their reflective neighbours. And yet, over time, it seems the gene pools have become irreversibly mixed, with nomadism disowned by evolution itself.

Gone, then, is the "clangour" of the debut: all that's left are the ashes, the "summer echoes" of a spell breaking apart; Sindri's ornaments are no longer hunting trophies, bird-of-paradise feathers and shark teeth, but lace and trimmings. Less electronic, but above all far less expressionistic and erratic (much of the previous album was built on improvisation), "Summer Echoes" unfolds under an all-Icelandic blanket of woodland drafts (Múm), only formally evoking the tribal choral quality ("Always Everything" and all the variations on the theme running through the record) that was instead ingrained in "Clangour"'s predatory instinct.

Only occasionally roused by a rounded, Devendorf-like beat ("Bruises", "Fall Down Slow"), it's only natural that the Sin Fang project should have lost the creative spark that came from the novelty of being in a recording studio, playing with instruments, alone with one's own stream of consciousness. The result, however, is an album that has little to add, musically or expressively, to the already fortunate and successful experience with Seabear: that much seems to be said by the nocturnal, meditative alt-rock of "Fall Down Slow" and the pale rush of "Because Of The Blood", with its ramshackle vocal line à la Alec Ounsworth (CYHSY).

Despite some interesting flourishes, such as the lovely arabesque (first electric guitar, then banjo) of "Rituals," the overall impression is of a washed-out, enervated record, in which Sindri never really managed to draw on that "voice," that caged and tamed part of himself dozing at the back of his mind.

"Summer Echoes" is, ultimately, a good product for the market: not too outlandish, but just enough (see the dreamy hip-hop of "Sing From Dream") to hook a few little fish, though not quite enough to go hunting half-naked in the forest.

Discuss the album on the forum

Ride the wave of great music

Add OndaRock to your favorite sources on Google Discover. Don't miss our reviews, milestones and latest news straight in your feed.

Follow on Google

21/03/2011