Ólafur Arnalds - ...and they have escaped the weight of darkness

If you're planning on not being moved by Ólafur Arnalds second album of orchestral compositions, well then you'd better go find yourself a thick skin. ...and they have escaped the weight of darkness, the Icelandic prodigy's follow up to 2007's Eulogy For Evolution - itself made at the intimidatingly young age of 20 - should really come with a will-reduce-you-to-tears guarantee. It's beautiful. Undeniably so. A piece of work that gets immediately inside you with gently brushed piano keys that head straight for your heart and the most mournful of violins which make a beeline for your gut. It's an album that demands to be listened to alone, on headphones and with zero distraction. However therein too lies its only and regretfully, it's occasionally game-breaking flaw. ...and they have escaped the weight of darkness begs that you sit down and take in its artistry but rarely does it force you out of your way to find a seat.

Making instrumental music in the land of airspace closing volcanoes, Arnalds must get very sick of reading the words 'Sigur' and 'Ros' in his reviews but his fellow Icelanders are worth a mention on this very point. With perhaps only Godspeed You Black Emperor and early Mogwai for company, Sigur Ros have that most enviable of instrumental skills, being able to compel a listener to stop what they're doing and give themselves completely to the music. Of course the aforementioned bands have the distinct post rock advantage of swelling a song at the drop of a hat but Arnalds can't quite halt you in your tracks on even his most "Sigur Ros-y" of moments like 'Tunglið' or 'Hægt, kemur ljósið'. Seeing as this writer has to put his laptop down for the entire five minutes of 'Undan hulu', it seems Arnalds has only really cracked that particular nut on the album's Hauschka-like penultimate track.

But when you do find that moment or are in the prescribed kind of mood, ...and they have escaped the weight of darkness is essential listening. You can then fully take in the skillful and seamless transition between opener 'Þú Ert Sólin' and second track 'Þú Ert Jörðin' before later basking in the uplifting instrumentation of closer 'Þau hafa sloppið undan þunga myrkursins'. Just wait for those horns. This is the kind of album that will be given the horrible tag of 'perfect hangover music', the kind of description that would likely cause the composer to vomit just as violently as the indisposed listener did the night before. Rather, in a time of hanging on to jobs for dear life or scraping together mortgage payments, this is an album that can allow you a much needed 40 minutes completely divorced from these stressful times.