After lending her versatile skills on stringed instruments (guitar, charango, violin, koto, etc.) to the alternative music scene of Iceland for some time, Olof Arnalds released her first solo album, the spare, delicate, and maybe a little magical Vidh og Vidh, in 2007. Over the next seven years, the elfin singer/songwriter delivered three more albums that were increasingly expansive, with electronics, electric guitars, and drums contributing to the fanciful, part-acoustic alt-pop of 2014s Palme. A decade-long break from recording followed during which time, among other endeavors, Arnalds worked as a copywriter, raised her kids, started an artist-led cultural space in Reykjavik (Mengi), and married frequent collaborator Skuli Sverrisson. When she finally returned to the studio, it was with only Sverrisson (production, bass, guitar) and Davidh Thor Jonsson (piano, guitar) for her most stripped-down set since her acoustic debut. A personal record titled Spira ("Sprout"), the album looks back upon her life with mostly gratitude, including songs about family and friends as well as struggles.
Sung entirely in Icelandic, Spira begins with a love song, "Heimurinn nuna" ("Our World Now"), a tender, fingerstyle track with a brittle, lilting melody and lyrics that translate to "I give you roots/You know what I mean/Their fine threads connect us." There are no drums on the album, but she adds bass and piano to songs like "Von um mild," a fable about forgiveness between a mother and daughter, and "Stein fyrir stein," both of which evoke the wistful melodicism of medieval troubadours. Elsewhere, the title tracks light pizzicatos underscore lyrics about sharing custody of her son with her ex-husband, including moments of anticipation and awkwardness, and she considers spirituality on the plaintive "Tar i morgunsaridh" ("Tear at the Break of Dawn"). The lean "Vorkoma" ("The Coming of Spring") is an appreciation of her friend, the writer Gudhrun Eva Minervudottir. Spira closes on the more uptempo, greed-themed "Afl thitt og hus" ("Houses and Power") and the openhearted "Lifandi" ("Alive"), a slightly more assertive track with tolling piano interjections and flitting strings that sounds something like the inner workings of a small musical clock. Throughout, Spiras soft, intricate arrangements, earnest vocals, and frequent minor modes give it a quality thats exquisite and haunting at once, making it an excellent entry point to an artist due for rediscovery. ~ Marcy Donelson
Rovi