Kvazar
A Giant's Lullaby

There are days when I feel the need to disconnect from the noise of life. Even if just for a moment. To shut the door on the frenzy of our days. And, when possible, to forget, if only for a while, the anxieties and irritations that echo within. Often the best medicine can be a glance or a smile from a loved one.

There are other times, however, when I feel the need to be alone with myself, with my thoughts, and to plug into another source. The stereo. To surrender myself to the poetry of sound, the warm embrace of melody, the adrenaline rush of rhythm. Certain music has a quite effective therapeutic and relaxing capability. And ironically, it's the lands of the cold that have been bringing me this warmth lately.

"A Giant’s Lullaby", by the Norwegians Kvazar, is one of those albums that digs deep. Slowly and incessantly.

An album with rarefied contours and multiple shades, that evaporates into intoxicating aromas. Music that speaks a universal language, touching on the shores of the most disparate genres, but relentlessly continuing its journey to discover emotion. We sail the seas of progressive, but these are waters in constant motion, where every wave hides an unexpected turn. Kvazar knows how to surprise, with their creativity without bounds and especially with their ability to make even the most intricate arrangements easily digestible. They seamlessly transition from the hypnotic suggestions of the opener "Flight of Shamash", garnished with Gregorian-style vocals, to the hints of Celtic folk in "Choir of Life". A true vintage fair, where a transverse flute alternates with a plucked mandolin, while first the mellotron and then a typically seventies synth compete to create dreamy and evocative atmospheres. 

"Dreams of Butterflies" is probably the most fascinating track on the album, with its innumerable moods. And perhaps the one that most closely approaches traditional Scandinavian progressive, in its inscrutable flight that even delves into jazz territories. But in Kvazar's kaleidoscopic universe, there's also space for psychedelia, from the Pink Floyd-inspired space-rock of "Spirit of Time" to the Arabic-inflected discourses of "Desert Blues". In no time at all, we switch to the soft jazz of "Sometimes", which includes a fun nod to R.E.M.'s "Shiny Happy People". Closing the album are two songs that highlight, if there was ever any doubt, this band's eclecticism. The title track is a piece of poignant beauty, enriched by an introduction that playfully riffs on the melody of "Summertime", before navigating through romantic moments and more dynamic ones, occasionally tinged with Mediterranean rhythms (!).

"Dark Horizons" finally brings the curtain down, returning to the most romantic and dreamy progressive territories, with the flute seeking delicate inlays that lead us to a finale filled with ethnic-influenced percussion and choirs.
It has been a while since I have come across an album of this caliber. If you have gotten the impression from this brief description of a work with exaggerated variety or complexity, let me reassure you. This is a modern and immediate work, despite its overflowing expressive freedom. Recommended for all lovers of music without borders.