In the increasingly crowded landscape of physical and digital output, Norwegian artist Nils Bech doesn't seem to have carved out enough room to escape anonymity: the British press has greeted his previous albums with little enthusiasm, perhaps offended and unsettled by Bech's forays into that pop-electronic territory of which the Brits consider themselves the sole custodians of truth.
Nils Bech's earliest musical experiences saw him working as an opera singer and classical music scholar, a background that shows through in his excellent vocal command and in the bold, enveloping timbre of his voice; in the same way, his sonic creations are refined and mature, pleasantly rich with avant-garde temptations.
His third work, "One Year", is the album of maturity: here all his artistic aspirations finally find the right balance between exploration and accessibility, with electronics taking the lead in a kaleidoscopic sound.
It's a compact, intriguing album, capable of rekindling the magic of Jens Lekman, but also of evoking the underrated and forgotten It's Immaterial, not only for its care in sound design, but above all for that unusual knack for electronic pop and folk roots.
Nils Bech's music draws its sonic identity from the electronics of Arthur Russell and the melodramatic poetics of Blue Nile, using it to tell of modern man's conflicting emotions: he does so through the odd time signatures of "That I", countered by an alienating neo-romantic rigor, or with the nervous electro-pop textures of "I Punish U", another lyrical outing for the artist, who turns his own emotional vulnerability into creative strength.
Human relationships sit at the heart of the lyrics, in particular the first year living with his current partner, and the resulting difficulties of navigating a relationship outside the norm. These elements become the central core of the album and of the electro-dark catharsis of "That Girl": where the protagonist is his partner's ex-girlfriend, and the psychological struggle that follows a decision to break with a cumbersome past, all underscored by a melancholy rich with charm.
Nils manages to astonish by frequently reshaping the sonic framework of his creations, as when a cascade of percussion (preceded by 45 seconds of improvised jazz drumming), synth loops, and vocals that turn from strident to angelic give shape to the splendid "Jealousy", a track rich in theatricality and neoclassicism that drags everything, with an alien allure, into a vortex of dark, seductive tones. A perfect pop song that asserts itself by breaking every structural rule.
Blue Nile, Antony Hegarty and It's Immaterial remain the most fitting reference points for describing the excellent harmonic and rhythmic progressions of "Trip Abroad", or the melancholy flow of the closing "Back Home"; but the peculiarities of his style are hidden within the unpredictable rhythmic and harmonic variations of "Shame" and "Carry Me", that is, in a theatricality attentive to the fusion of music and dance, with nods to Eastern culture and contamination with adjacent arts such as painting and sculpture (in 2011 he performed at the Venice Biennale).
The term art-pop ultimately fits "One Year" best, though it's also reductive for an artist who tends to every aspect of his music: just look at the videos accompanying "Trip Abroad" and "I Punish You", or the album's striking graphic art. A few minor naive touches and a slightly retro use of electronics may throw some listeners off, but that won't stop them from grasping the most innovative aspects of an album that opens up new horizons for Norwegian music. An unexpected year-end cameo.
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10/12/2014
This article is an English translation of the original Italian text by Gianfranco Marmoro, published on OndaRock.it. It was translated with the help of artificial intelligence, under the editorial responsibility of OndaRock's editor-in-chief, Claudio Fabretti.