Review Summary: immersed in light grey
When thinking of ‘pandemic albums’, JFDR’s
New Dreams is one of the first that comes to (my simple) mind. I remember precisely where I first heard its mesmerising opening notes (the ‘living room’ of that awful apartment I got stuck in for most of 2020); I remember precisely where and when I looped it over and over (on my miserable little government-permitted walks during 2020’s delightful spring season). While these many replays were for a clear reason (album good),
New Dreams ended up being explicitly entwined with the memories of a decidedly not-fun period in time. As such, it took me well over two years and one covid infection to realise how truly excellent the record is: pandemic or no pandemic, JFDR’s subtle songwriting holds up.
Moreover, the Icelandic artist’s 2020 record can be said to hint at a bright future as its highlights are equal parts rooted in sparkly folk-isms (‘Dive In’, ‘Shimmer’) and calm ambient pop (‘Taking a Part of Me’’, ‘Drifter’). Combined with her Ólafur Arnalds and Damien Rice collaborations as well as several excellent film scores, the brand new
Museum has a lot of potential avenues to explore - and a lot of expectations to live up to.
Thankfully, it is every bit as excellent as I could have hoped for.
Museum is a haunting affair, delicate and understated at all times yet bold enough to be decidedly impressive. This boldness primarily derives itself from JDFR’s magical voice: it is breathy and light, yet self assured and ultimately constitutes the glue that keeps the record focused and comprehensible. Rather than focusing on one aspect of the artist’s style, the album finds a compromise by shrouding a plethora of sounds in
Museum’s subdued, greyish aesthetics. While ‘Life Man’ is an oddly upbeat number, it is not guided by its relatively peppy beat: instead, the washed out ambience directs the song to a hazy conclusion underscored by gorgeous harmonies. Closing cut ‘Underneath the Sun’ might feel like a token folksy song at first, yet follows a similar path. Its acoustic guitars are undeniably pristine, however, the true driving force behind the song reveals itself to be JFDR’s vocals atop nearly indistinguishable ambience.
It is this beautifully washed out ambience that leaves the greatest mark on
Museum. Each song’s unique properties are shaped by their ability to interact with soft, atmospheric tones, regardless of what its first half may have you believe. Highlight ‘Air Unfolding’ presents itself as a soothing piano cut, yet evolves into a truly mystical piece as the keys become immersed in a framework of abstract beauty. Elsewhere, ‘February’ provides the record’s most ethereal moments as well as its most haunting lyrical content. Meditating on nostalgia and loss, the song reflects the concrete abstraction of
Museum by raising certain questions and answering the unasked ones - “
A face in the window across the street / I get shy as she is staring straight at me / An old man on his balcony flaunting the sunshine to his iPad / I used to be like this with my family back when I was away”.
In spite of this, the most poignant moment on
Museum somehow comes in the form of ‘Flower Bridge’. The brief instrumental piece bridging the record’s two halves is delicate, with sparkly synth tones reminiscent of
New Dreams. As I was getting ready to write it off as a pointless interlude, I looked out the window to see nothing but grey skies and downpour. While this never fails to bring me anything but sadness, JFDR’s calming tones made me realise that this miserable weather was the only thing keeping me inside - and that feels good.
