:Of The Wand & The Moon:
Sonnenheim

Full stop.

Apocalyptic folk. The usual indispensable runic symbol rising glorious in the skies. Nothing new under the runes. Or perhaps yes? Little Kim Larsen tries again: after the downward trajectory of the trilogy originated by the good “Nighttime Nightrhymes”, continued with the less good “:Emptiness:Emptiness:Emptiness” and concluded by the very bland “Lucifer”, here Kim Larsen reshuffles the (usual) cards to give a slight (but necessary) turn to his path. “Sonnenheim” lives on new inspiration and some newness that regenerates the sound of the Danish songwriter, pushing him above a mediocrity that threatened to leave him bogged down in the swamp of quotation and self-quotation.

Not that this 2006 release shines with great innovative drive, but in the end, it is appreciated for the effort of infusing new colors into a landscape tending towards lunar aridity. The contributions of various special (and less special) guests do not go unnoticed, among them friend Andreas Ritter of the cousins Forseti, who lends his voice and accordion to more than one episode of this fourth work (excluding the EP "Midnight Will") branded :Of the Wand and the Moon:. Aware that Ritter owes much of his popularity in the scene for having collaborated with Pearce in the mediocre “All Pigs Must Die”, we understand how the music of Death in June continues to be the main source of inspiration for Larsen's pen. It is sad, however, to note how a relatively good work of Our Man does not stray far from the qualitative level of just-sufficient work by the unrivaled master. But “Sonnenheim” may still find resonance among the most nostalgic lovers of apocalyptic folk and will likely give some extra thrill to fans of the project, whose music still maintains its own charm. Always a passionate devotee of North-European traditions, with many affinities and few divergences from what the genre has been offering us for years, loyal to the line, Kim Larsen reconfirms himself as the most ardent defender of traditional values, crushed by the much-reviled modern world of Evolian (and Wakefordian) memory, with the Central European variants suggested by his native land. But he does it with candor and sobriety, avoiding assuming excessively obnoxious poses. And if Larsen remains likable in the end, it is because his art is not the notorious mountain bringing forth a mouse but a much more modest hill that manages to produce at least a marmot. And so Larsen's neo-folk settles into a dimension made of small ballads for small misanthropes, managing most of the time to be convincing, but above all avoiding boring the listener with long, pretentious compositions. And so, “Sonnenheim” does not overly disappoint, constituting a smooth and sufficiently varied listen. The more typical acoustic sound of this world, garnished with the proverbial whiny whisper that characterized previous episodes, is this time contaminated by industrial samples, hallucinogenic synthesizers, and ethnic instruments (the percussive aspect being predominant) that make the sound more composite and full of nuances.

In short, if along the way the sense of existential weariness and the arcane charm that had distinguished Larsen's work until the day before are lost, in his new path little Larsen broadens his horizons not merely copying “Rose Clouds of Holocaust” but a bit “All Pigs Must Die” too, incorporating among the colors of his palette certain more serene moods that have characterized the proposal of his putative father Douglas Pearce in recent times. The gloomy opener “Black Moth” (a nocturnal exploration based on misty industrial loops with a vague martial scent and subdued sighs) and the leaden “Nighttime in Sonnenheim” (shackled in the twilight rigor that had weighed down Larsen’s past to obsession) are a false alarm: the festive opening for acoustic guitar and accordion of the splendid “Summer Solstice” is enough to make us understand that with this new album, Larsen has arrived at the light, perhaps even the glow that is still able to emanate from an untainted past made of pagan feasts and popular rites, still looked upon with ecstatic nostalgia. And precisely between the poignant nostalgia towards a decayed world that still dwells in the spirit of a few, selected sensitive souls, and the gaze clouded by the bleak visions of an distressing present, move the fourteen pieces of which “Sonnenheim” is composed, a manifesto of anti-modernity in a pocket-size version. As if Larsen, after voicing his disappointment, had somehow managed to overcome the trauma of the present by building himself a tailor-made fairytale world, a world thickened by the mists of the past, as if lying inside a glass coffin, awaiting a prodigious kiss to awaken him from the nightmare into which we have plunged. Thus prevails the multicolor of ballads that are indeed apocalyptic but illuminated by the cold winter sun, epic ballads like “My Black Faith”, pagan-like ballads like “Wonderful Wonderful Sun”, tragic ballads like “Hollow upon Hollow” (pierced by the looping cry of a crazed preacher, my favorite), and yet belligerent ballads like “Hail Hail Hail II”, decadent ballads like “Here's an Ode” (complete with organ and bells), laid-back and scenic ballads like “Like Wolves”.

The industrial nightmare survives in episodes like “Lieblos hin zur Dunkelheit”, where the forested and dark atmospheres of the past once again make an appearance in environmental visions that confer the right dose of atmosphere to the whole, as well as provide the ideal device to interrupt the discourse and resume with yet another ballad. Despite the simplicity of the songwriting, the sound is hyper-produced, a choice that gives the work more depth in the arrangement, so much so that electric guitars (always arpeggiated) often accompany the acoustic ones (ever predominant), noises, dissonances, reverberations, industrial sequences, and sampled voices infest the purity of our little former Saturnus' passionate singer-songwriter mission.

Nothing phenomenal under the runes, but this album is listenable, and given that today's landscape does not seem to offer anything much better, fans of the genre would do well not to ignore the work of this little craftsman, whose music will certainly not turn lives upside down, but will certainly be appreciated for the underlying honesty that seems to animate it.