:Of the Wand & the Moon:
Nighttime Nightrhymes

Kim Larsen is a damn mediocre, there's no doubt about it, but he remains an artist deserving of some attention from anyone who considers themselves a true enthusiast of the genre, if only for this good debut work, dated 1999.

Our bearded/bald little Dane (former Saturnus), in fact, over four albums and an EP, will demonstrate not a few limitations in his solo career regarding compositional and especially performative abilities, but “:Nighttime Nightrhymes:” is, after all, a good album of apocalyptic folk, honest, heartfelt, passionate: an album that, while not exactly shining for originality, certainly stands out for inspiration and conviction.

The folk marked :Of the Wand & the Moon: certainly pays a huge homage to the music of the illustrious Douglas P., but it still represents interesting facets within the genre: sung in English and Norse, strongly rooted in Norse mythology, “:Nighttime Nightrhymes:” tells of the year one thousand, the advent of Christianity in Scandinavian lands, looking back nostalgically (akin to self-flagellation) at an irretrievable past; investigating, among runes and a brazenly Viking iconography, the end of a millennia-old tradition.

Permeated by an enveloping nocturnal epicness (which has nothing warlike but makes intimacy and introspection its cornerstones), “:Nighttime Nightrhymes:” is a heartfelt variation of what might have been, both stylistically and conceptually, a staple of the genre like “But, What Ends When the Symbols Shatter?”. An intimate walk in the woods, a handful of ballads illuminated only by moonlight and warmed by the crackling bonfire lit in a reassuring clearing of a dark forest. A whispered folk, carried by inspired acoustic guitar chords and few other instruments (a melting organ, an eccentric flute, soft yet sporadic percussion, the roar of a string ensemble that gradually breaks a fundamentally singer-songwriter flow forged in the guitar/voice binomial).

Over the years, Our Hero will slowly slide into a shameless flattening on the coordinates laid by Death in June on an album like “Rose Clouds of Holocaust”, but in this debut, a (though timid) will to carve out his own path emerges, characterized not only by the lyrics (as mentioned, strongly oriented towards Nordic-themed beliefs), but also by a folk still all in all virgin, which almost entirely renounces the proverbial industrial samples, and which willingly abandons itself to archaic, deeply descriptive sounds. Here, after all, the distinctive traits of the :Of the Wand and the Moon: sound emerge, starting from the sparse recitation (almost a whisper), passing through the electric guitar embellishments, called to underscore the fundamental passages of certain tracks, up to the indispensable chamber music parentheses evoking a folklore lost in the night of time.

Ten episodes (net of the short intro and outro) capable of succeeding without boring, even if not presenting significant variations in theme and mood. And so the opener “I Crave for You” is the best Our Hero can offer in his admittedly brief career: a guitar tremendously on point from its first phrases, an oblique folk made magical by the simple descents of a mystic organ, a refrain that will imprint itself in your head after only a few listens. Followed by “Lion Serpent Sun”, strengthened by electric arpeggios called to round off its desolate progress with sombre epicness; followed by “Sòl ek Sà”, for strings and (non) voice alone.

Among the most evocative moments, I mention the evocative “VargOld”, which ends up paradoxically recalling the Velvet Underground's “Venus in Furs”: a “Venus in Furs” revisited at the mournful pace of solemn drums, screeching strings, and a distorted guitar that cloaks in its black pitch an album that indeed sees very little electricity. “She with whom Compar'd the Alpes are Vallies” rediscovers instead the most classic singer-songwriter tradition, a singer-songwriter style finally devoid of tedious apocalyptic atmospheres and more oriented towards the directions of the folk-singers of the sixties.

Reflective pauses and sudden restarts characterize this album that doesn't seem to have real moments of collapse (aided also by its brevity), as if everything is exactly where it should be. A fragile balance typical of small-great works that don’t offer great thrills but manage to fascinate in every aspect.

Nothing sensational, of course, the listening remains the prerogative of true genre enthusiasts, especially those who do not fear sinking into a pleasant and everlasting déjà vu. As for me, Larsen's (descending) artistic trajectory doesn't disturb much: his path will continue with the equally good “:Emptiness:Emptiness:Emptiness” and the less good “Lucifer”, called to close a phantom trilogy begun with the debut just described. With the EP “Midnight Will” and particularly with the latest “Sonnenheim” (from 2005), Larsen will attempt (in his small way) to give a twist to his (small) career, seeking to enrich and contaminate a sound that will gradually become more composite and choral than in the past.

There are many reservations, we’ll see what the future holds for us.