Änglagård
Viljans Öga

Just over two decades ago, a neoprogressive album destined to become a classic was released: Hybris. The musical mastermind of the highly skilled Swedish group Änglagård offered music that was largely retrospective in terms of vintage instrumentation and basic concepts, combined with a refined technique (and above all a touch, I would say) and Nordic atmospheres that made Hybris's offering unique. Shortly after, the album Epilog was released, with which the group intended to conclude their brief career (only to be later re-evaluated as one of the most important bands of the '90s prog revival). With the vocals removed, what remained was music with elaborate and varied sound textures, very organic and inspired, which managed to fittingly conclude the Änglagård chapter (excluding a live album called Buried Alive released in '95 that truly marked the end of the group).

I think it was the end of 2010 when I happened to read with great astonishment the news just announced by the drummer Mattias Olsson about the imminent release of a new full-length album which the group, recently reformed (not for the first time, as they had already performed some live shows in the early 2000s presenting a couple of new tracks), was working on recording. From that moment, I consistently followed the evolution of the new album by that band I considered essential and never expected to see back on track, thanks also to the studio video reports regularly posted by the drummer. When, in 2012, "Viljans Öga" (this is the album's name) was released, I didn't hesitate to dive into it immediately. Let's see together what I wrote at the time while listening to it (if you don't like analyses, I recommend skipping to the conclusion with the finale).

The album, consisting of only 4 rather lengthy tracks, begins with Ur Vilande: the first track opens the album with atmospheres that perfectly pick up the path where it was unfortunately closed almost two decades earlier with the wonderful Epilog. A sweet flute melody accompanied by acoustic guitars, a distinctive bass sound, and a good dose of legendary keyboards, followed by an acoustic section that quickly flows into a typical powerful section, characterized by distorted bass, unsettling tones, and plenty of mellotron or Hammond organ, depending on the case. The only real difference compared to Epilog and Hybris seems to be, apart from the production quality, the massive presence of Anna Holmgren's flute, more active than ever. Between one section and another, always between harmonious and at times sinister or moody atmospheres, the first 8 minutes of the track pass by in no time. It then moves on to a very interesting section from a rhythmic point of view, with a radiant Mattias Olsson and consistently perfect arrangements crowned by an absolutely irresistible choice of vintage sounds. A new simple yet effective rhythmic cell is introduced, and the variations interspersed with unprecedented sections follow each other in an instrumental delight that takes your breath away. At the 10-minute mark, the tones suddenly soften, leaving an entirely unusual exotic sound to reign for a few seconds before resuming with a typical mellotron gallop with Johan Brand's unmistakable bass constantly in the mix's forefront. Not to forget the guitar that doesn't miss the opportunity even in these last moments to perform intricate solos that are never excessive and always very atmospheric. With a final section that reprises one of the main phrases from the track's second part, the piece begins to fade out, leaving a few gentle strokes of mellotron and acoustic guitars, then accompanied by solo piano and hints of bass to close the track. At this point, as the last guitar note resonates, one thing is clear: Änglagård is finally back, and we can't wait to continue listening to this Viljans Öga!

Next up is Sorgmantel. Once again, Holmgren's delicate melodies open this piece, later joined by clarinet and piano, for a very interesting chamber-like section, gradually complemented by acoustic guitars, mellotron, cello, and so on. In this way, within a couple of minutes, you find yourself in very different atmospheres, even unusual for Änglagård themselves, given the presence of a synth lead sound crowning a mainly bass-oriented section. What follows is no less interesting, with various rhythmic ideas and excellent work by all musicians. The guitar solo just before the fourth minute and the original arrangement of what follows, with exciting mellotron strings and a beautiful flute solo, are also noteworthy. But it would be pointless to describe every single instrumental gem present in a 12-minute track of this kind. Once again remarkable is the ability to transition from convincing chamber or melodically tense or relaxing and cautious sections to equally convincing wild and unsettling, impetuous, technically impressive sections without any problem and without breaking the piece's flow. After an impressive series of diverse situations around the tenth minute, the tones soften to return to a previous arrangement, with clean guitars and flute in the foreground, the omnipresent bass transformed into a perfect accompaniment and an inevitable sprinkling of mellotron here and there to fill it all in. At the eleventh minute, the mellotron decides to delay the finale with a very nice bridge using several registers effectively on display, before once again leaving the final word to the guitar.

With the following Snårdom, the album reaches its peaks. This track (the longest of the work) opens with a bang, with a jubilation of instruments competing to be heard the most over frantic riffs and masterful rhythmic work. Once again, a synthesizer appears, an instrument hardly heard before this album, and amid the lively rhythmic backdrop, solos of all kinds take their place. When the tones calm down, it is the flute that takes the lead for a moment, until something very similar to the track's opening kicks back in, revisited in parts in an incredibly sinister version. Even when the bass steps aside and the drums calm down, the tones stay dark, the flute's sweet melodic work doesn't manage to feel reassuring, leading into a terrifying drumming section. When the bass returns to activity, it demonstrates its impressive ability, soaring above Olsson's intense drumming. Between one breakdown and another, you arrive halfway through the track with a rather melancholic electric guitar solo, later accompanied by a flute in a harmonic role, which will instead take the guitar's place in the succeeding section. The whole thing spills into an acoustic section, among dreamy (but this time tending towards melancholy) flutes and guitars in delicate atmospheres directly from the Swedish forests, as tradition dictates. The piano soon makes its appearance before morphing into an organ: in this warm section, organ chords are marked by a nearly funeral-esque drumbeat, followed by guitar arpeggios and bass patterns in a crescendo of absolute wonder. Then, more or less, it returns without you almost even realizing it to tighter rhythms and less essential arrangements. A guitar solo leads the track to its coda and finally, on masterful mellotron accompaniments to epicize everything (without forgetting an electronically hinted conclusion), closes these sixteen minutes rich with remarkable music.

The final track is the initially intimate and eventually mad Längtans Klocka, which picks up the atmospheric sounds left hanging by the previous piece without interruption. This piece begins to evolve with great pathos, thanks to an initially minimalist but very engaging pianistic section. The flute soon joins in, and as the piano accompaniment becomes increasingly fuller, it outlines melodies of great emotional depth. Everything is left hanging on one last chord of tension before a guitar accompaniment replaces the piano and begins to lead back to the group's more typical sounds, with some appearances of mellotron and a beautiful interplay of guitar and flute. At the fourth minute, the track restarts with a bang, a more frantic rhythmic section breathes new life into the action, and the complex and vibrant section accompanying the nimble flute surprises once more. Suddenly, only the piano remains, marking the beginning of an intriguing section of all sorts of variations, unusual sounds, unexpected pauses, and dynamics of all kinds. A more typical driving section follows, with a vehement unison by flute and guitar. The tones then aim again at softening with even a brief saxophonic cameo, before returning to the matter left hanging shortly before. As only some strange solo sound remains, some filtered and pitch-manipulated decadent circus atmosphere filtered and brought to madness begins to be heard in the background. The unhealthy sequence somewhat recalls Ifrån Klarhet Till Klarhet from the first album Hybris, but in this case, everything is taken to its extreme, much longer and solemn, eventually spilling into pure madness bordering on noise. Even when the group's typical sounds manage to emerge, they remain healthy for a short time because the album's finale itself is not this time characterized by a solemn and powerful cadence but by a disintegration of the sonic fabric into a series of almost disconnected and unhealthy mood sounds. This unexpected finale, which given the mass it occupies on the entire piece's duration, can be decisive on the piece's judgment: if the outro is liked, this track is elevated; otherwise, it is relegated to the role of the album's overall less astonishing track.

And so here's the great return of a band thought to be defunct for nearly 20 years, who paradoxically return to the scene after an album called "Epilog" and continue to surprise (even live, incidentally, having seen them in Loreley, I can assure you they are truly mind-blowing, one of the best bands I've ever seen live): the creativity is still at its peak and its tendency for great intelligent technicality, never tipping into excess, is an integral part of this album as well, in this case, once again completely instrumental and composed of only four tracks ranging in length from 12 to 16 minutes each. Even more present than in the previous albums are Holmgren's winds, Brand's bass does not disappoint, once again proving formidable in the most energetic sections and essential to creating the group's typical sound, part of which is also the massive presence of mellotron on all keyboards, and this is not lacking. Olsson also gives grand performances of his percussion skills, if possible even superior compared to the previous albums, and a greater presence of acoustic sections also provides the guitars the opportunity to express themselves in many different, always convincing, and well-played ways. In conclusion, it undoubtedly is one of the best albums of 2012, a comeback we had been waiting for a long, too long time, and that fortunately, is unlikely to disappoint fans of the Swedish band, as it does not shatter its depth but rather makes it even more substantial.