Redefinition
Yesterday Alison, Cynthia and I took receipt of our Amiina EPs. AnimaminA is the only official recording released so far from the all-female Icelandic quartet. Edda Rún Ólafsdóttir, Hildur Ársælsdóttir, Maria Huld Markan Sigfúsdóttir and Sólrún Sumarliðadóttir are known for their collaborations with Sigur Rós since 2000, contributing the string sections to their pieces on ( ) and Takk... Of course, more people are coming to discover Amiina (formerly Amina) as they tour the world in support of Sigur Rós, including recently New Zealanders.
The EP is a pristinely-produced musical marvel of just over eighteen minutes, featuring four of Amiina's own pieces that they performed in concert at the Saint James. The bowed saw, which was one of my favourite aspects of the live experience, does not seem anywhere to be heard on AnimaminA but this does not prevent it from being a very solid creation. The EP opens with Skakka, a hauntingly beautiful piece in which masterfully tuned wine glasses layer over the top of one another, set to a delicate rhythm provided by the xylophone, and underlaid with the unintrusive and atmospheric sound of a roaring fireplace. The crackling flames waft over into the second composition on AnimaminA -- Hemipode -- with a sublimely catchy melodic element that ascends swiftly into a dramatic, uplifting climax as the strings come in in support of the office bells, classical guitar, and the Apple computer providing the bass.
Fjarskanistan is the longest piece on the EP. Rounding out at six minutes and twenty-nine seconds, it is a more solemn piece than those previous, and certainly the most straightforwardly classical, seeing the violins and cello take pride of place. The closing track Bláskjár is founded on a misty classical guitar progression that gives the impression of a musical box, with conservatively-played keyboards and mournful strings adding texture to the proceedings. With that, AnimaminA concludes as wondrously as it began and you find yourself reaching over to spin the mini-album again.
This is in no way rock music. This is modern avant-garde classical music at its most adventurous. AnimanimA is a tantalising experience that leaves you itching for more. At the same time, it is a nicely bite-sized piece of surreality that is not as emotionally intense as a Sigur Rós album, but is plainly beautiful music. It would undoubtedly make a welcome listen when you feel like listening to this kind of music but do not feel up to listening to a whole Sigur Rós album. But Amiina are in a class of their own. Having been signed to a new label, it is recent news that they will be releasing another EP in September, with an album coming at an unspecified time after that. AnimaminA is an absolutely necessary purchase for anyone who has been lucky enough to experience these girls performing live -- I believe that having that experience greatly enhances the enjoyability of these studio recordings -- and indeed anyone with an appreciation for Sigur Rós, avant-garde classical music, and other forms of progressive art. Amiina need to be experienced to be done justice.
The EP is a pristinely-produced musical marvel of just over eighteen minutes, featuring four of Amiina's own pieces that they performed in concert at the Saint James. The bowed saw, which was one of my favourite aspects of the live experience, does not seem anywhere to be heard on AnimaminA but this does not prevent it from being a very solid creation. The EP opens with Skakka, a hauntingly beautiful piece in which masterfully tuned wine glasses layer over the top of one another, set to a delicate rhythm provided by the xylophone, and underlaid with the unintrusive and atmospheric sound of a roaring fireplace. The crackling flames waft over into the second composition on AnimaminA -- Hemipode -- with a sublimely catchy melodic element that ascends swiftly into a dramatic, uplifting climax as the strings come in in support of the office bells, classical guitar, and the Apple computer providing the bass.
Fjarskanistan is the longest piece on the EP. Rounding out at six minutes and twenty-nine seconds, it is a more solemn piece than those previous, and certainly the most straightforwardly classical, seeing the violins and cello take pride of place. The closing track Bláskjár is founded on a misty classical guitar progression that gives the impression of a musical box, with conservatively-played keyboards and mournful strings adding texture to the proceedings. With that, AnimaminA concludes as wondrously as it began and you find yourself reaching over to spin the mini-album again.
This is in no way rock music. This is modern avant-garde classical music at its most adventurous. AnimanimA is a tantalising experience that leaves you itching for more. At the same time, it is a nicely bite-sized piece of surreality that is not as emotionally intense as a Sigur Rós album, but is plainly beautiful music. It would undoubtedly make a welcome listen when you feel like listening to this kind of music but do not feel up to listening to a whole Sigur Rós album. But Amiina are in a class of their own. Having been signed to a new label, it is recent news that they will be releasing another EP in September, with an album coming at an unspecified time after that. AnimaminA is an absolutely necessary purchase for anyone who has been lucky enough to experience these girls performing live -- I believe that having that experience greatly enhances the enjoyability of these studio recordings -- and indeed anyone with an appreciation for Sigur Rós, avant-garde classical music, and other forms of progressive art. Amiina need to be experienced to be done justice.
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