For the longest time I’ve been listening to this score without knowing anything about the short film it was composed for ( Studio AKA‘s Varmints). It could just as well be an original composition of contemporary classical or ambient music.Īnd in the Endless Pause There Came the Sound of Bees (#9 to #11) is one of those cases. Thus many times, if you wouldn’t know it better, you’d never guess you’re listening to film music. ![]() Many of Jóhann Jóhannsson’s releases look like they’re already using a custom cover, often times omitting official film poster art and instead coming with a sleeve design of their own, which makes them feel more like original albums rather than soundtracks. I can not recommend this album enough and strongly advise everyone to give it a listen, preferably in bed while taking a nap.Ģ0, A User’s Manual / The Sun’s Gone Dim and the Sky’s Turned BlackĢ009 And in the Endless Pause There Came the Sound of Bees It was a mesmerizing experience that captured my whole body and put me into deep state of relaxation. I feel a near unwavering anticipation take hold during these low rumbling sections, knowing full well that those luminescent horns will soon cut through again like a beacon of light. As the music rolls onward, the quiet sections get longer, to the point where minutes will go by before the familiar phrase is heard again. ![]() This recurring cluster is the album’s mainstay, ascending triumphantly from a bed of smouldering drones at varying intervals. Virðulegu forsetar is split into four parts and immediately opens with a cluster of notes for organ and brass. Just like that, peaceful slumber had come over me in waves as I was drifting in and out of sleep in sync with the music. Nestled in a warm drone sound that vibrates in strange, soothing frequencies, Jóhann lets his brass ensemble come forth ever so briefly looping the same touching motive over and over again. But its musical effect caught me from the first beat. My escape route was Virðulegu Forsetar, which I had never heard before. And quite recently I’ve had a particularly wonderful experience revolving around it…īattered by a rough day, I retreated myself into bed and escaped the real world for a good hour. It is meandering, hypnotic and thoroughly fascinating. With his second album Virðulegu Forsetar (#3) Jóhannsson was stirring in the same waters as William Basinski’s famous Disintegration Loops. Almost as if the dying technology he was so fond of, is now the one that remains mourning. Because with the recent re-release of Englabörn & Variations (#2), just one month after his death, Odi Et Amo has sort of became a (self-written) requiem for the composer himself. And as tragic as it might seem, the same can now be said about his whole career. Jóhannsson bookends the album with that track. Its elegiac opener Odi Et Amo gives voice to a humanized computer being that mourns for love. With his debut album Englabörn (#1) Jóhann Jóhannsson was off to a silent start. A unique voice was lost and I just can’t think of anyone living up to his legacy as of right now.įollowing below is a by no means complete retrospective on Jóhann Jóhannsson. ![]() There was just so much more for him to give to the world. It was kind of devastating then and I still find it hard to accept even these days, especially when I’m listening to one of his albums. I still remember the morning of February 11th… my birthday, when I woke up to the news of his untimely death. ![]() He kind of became my favourite living composer out there. All of these things resonated deeply with me and the sonic world I live in. There’s something about the projects Jóhann Jóhannsson has signed on to, the distinctive artworks that he selected for his album releases and of course his approach and methodology to work within the boundaries of music… or the lack thereof.
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