The unmistakable and immensely creative sound of Fuimadane returns in the form of a brand new album this month. Immediately reigniting those organic, tribal and somewhat raw musical layers, Rísa intrigues and appeals from the offset, and refuses to let go of your attention throughout.
Never Shall I Bow introduces things with an intense and captivating march to the crowd, a few simple elements making up the weight of the experience. As always, buckle-up for a fully cinematic audio experience – Fuimadane has all but crafted a movie soundtrack for this one.
Where there was a clear Celtic warmth and fullness to the last project, Rísa seems to lead with a more secure and intentional story-line. Vocal monologues set the scene in many cases, inspiring strength and reminding you of the ancestors and histories that came before us.
Arise follows on with this, but evolves to become a brilliantly energizing, almost EDM-like folk-rock stomp of a Celtic dance track. That raw sound is superb, taking you right out into the fields, proving to be a fully immersive and enveloping experience that’s stunning to embrace at volume.
Elsewhere on the album, those natural sounds return in full force – nature, voices, organic rhythms, echoes – darkness and light meet face to face, and meanwhile you fall under the spell of the artistry.
Jörð is quite magical, dark and intriguing, impossible to ignore. Sigyn follows with a similarly haunting yet addictive sense of progression and intimacy, later moving into weight and intensity. Then come as many moments that unsettle as that strangely inspire action and self-empowerment. Loki into The Wolf Prayer makes for a powerful few minutes of listening.
The rhythms on this project take hold of your own body’s natural beat, and meanwhile instances of delicate melody, up close and personal vocals, all work well to completely transport you to some other time and place. Stórmerki utilizes this in a sublime and fascinating manner.
Towards the latter half, a heavier hit of darkness and fear takes over, before the briefly calming resolve of Valhalla – a beautiful moment of optimism, light melodies and encouraging vocals unite. Sláttr Vera adds a hint of minimalism and purity afterwards. In every case, the musicianship is incredible, and Fuimadane’s creativity is out of this world. Every composition is a story or chapter in its own right, with new characters, unique points of interest, and a totally unpredictable aura in general.
Landet adds an influx of lyricism at the penultimate moment, whispering in a tired manner – Standing in the light, sensing only darkness, Nothing is visible, only the goddess of sorrow… Then Believe (Outro) sees things finish with a light acoustic guitar, the sound of nature, some hopeful strings, and a distant vocal choir, which all works to leave a sense of possibility at the final hurdle.
Powerful as ever, always a real treat to spend time with – Fuimadane’s music knows no limits, and this project in particular seems like a fully realized concept hard at work. Brilliant.