SUSANNE SUNDFØR - Revelations Of Divine Love

In the age of the mad scramble for algorithm-smashing featuring credits, Susanne Sundfør has found fertile ground for her songwriting by entering into dialogue with Julian of Norwich, an anchoress who, from the last decade of the 1300s until her death sometime after 1416, lived shut away in a cell next to St. Julian's Church (the woman's real name remains unknown to this day). It's perhaps a collaboration no one could have predicted — and certainly not one engineered to please the most fervent Christian audience. And yet it's not such an inexplicable move for anyone who has followed the singular artistic path of the Norwegian musician, who has always been inclined toward experimentation and who, for almost a decade now, has turned away from a road that, with the gorgeous "Ten Love Songs", once seemed destined to win her a much wider international audience.

Her co-author on the lyrics, then, is a mystic who lived at the turn between the 14th and 15th centuries and who witnessed firsthand the plague, war and the peasants' revolt in the England of her time. Having survived an illness that brought her to the brink of death, she experienced in her moments of agony divine visions — or revelations — to the commentary of which she then devoted much of her life of prayer and seclusion. "Revelations Of Divine Love" is in fact the title of the work she wrote in Middle English, and it also stands as the oldest known text written in English by a woman.

For this modern reinterpretation, the thirteen compositions were recorded live in a Norwegian church, where Sundfør's voice is accompanied solely by the pipe organ played by British musician Kit Downes (co-author of the arrangements). Despite a handful of short instrumental tracks that serve as interludes, the beating heart of "Revelations" is undoubtedly Sundfør's vocal performance, impeccable throughout. And this is no mere exercise in style or display of virtuosity: her singing envelops and caresses the listener, forming a bridge between the present day and the medieval mysticism of Julian of Norwich. The choices made in the recording process are also extremely effective in conveying a sense of intimate closeness and contemplation, so that one always has the impression of sitting in church, on a pew bathed in half-light, as the sound of organ and voice reverberates through the neo-Gothic naves. The sonic flow is, moreover, highly evocative, reaching moments of sublime transcendence in the second half of the record with "The Blessed Wounds" and the truly goosebump-inducing crescendo of "All Shall Be Well".

Granted, the lyrics don't land with much force — and may even feel alienating — for those who aren't of Christian faith, or who approach them today as non-believers. So why, then, this strange "collaboration" with Julian of Norwich? Sundfør recently stated in an interview with Clash that she became interested in the anchoress from a feminist perspective. Now, being the first woman to have written a text in the English language, or having embraced a radical way of life, isn't in itself enough to automatically make someone a feminist. But the Norwegian musician knows this perfectly well too, and perhaps it is precisely the paratextual elements she has added that help us in interpreting the message of divine, unconditional love that Julian of Norwich meditated on at such length.

Both the photograph chosen for the cover and the accompanying art video reference the act of giving birth and the realm of motherhood. Conception, labour and birth in the flesh are themes symbolically interwoven into Christian theology, but here they are instead represented as an act of love not necessarily tethered to a religious message (although, let's be honest, the video wouldn't have suffered from the presence of at least one queer couple, given that, at least within Catholic circles, we are still a long way from full acceptance of a non-heteronormative family and parenting model).

In a broader sense, such an act of love might also be read as an act of care and solidarity; and it is precisely the concept of care that sits at the heart of numerous feminist practices and politics. But perhaps it is also a love that presupposes an awareness of difference, and of the need to accept ways of life diametrically opposed to our own — such as, for instance, that of our anchoress. Seen in this light, when all is said and done, "Revelations Of Divine Love" doesn't seem so far removed from "Music For People In Trouble", and continues to embody its same intense embrace of hope.

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08/10/2026