Brynilde Unbridles The Sound of the Winter Sun

By Deuce

You can just tell by a couple seconds of listening to the opening track, to say nothing of the rest of the album entitled The Sound of the Winter Sun, by the sheer reliance on the instrument, that Brynilde plays the piano. Well, at that.

You can also tell, by a quiet examination of the wording on this project, that she’s dealing with some pretty serious forces, too. A song called “Hecate”? Come on, have you any idea who that is? Another tune entitled “Priestess or Shieldmaiden”? Not to mention, the fact that the Long Player dropped just a few days before the vernal equinox (though depending on what the scientists have to say, it very well could have been the equinox this year).

However, all of that is relatively insignificant compared to the fact that no matter what the singer’s dealing with on this collection, she’s sequenced the songs so that the album gets better—and more cogent—with the passage of the tunes themselves.

That said, it’s hard to deny the fact that the work hits its zenith on “Thorns”, which is just a song or two before the end. She’s working a piano riff worthy of looping (it’s one bar, and likely is simply playing it over and over). It works so well there’s parts where she abandons the lyrics and simply humms along to it, which sounds nice.

And then, just as you were hoping she would, she comes out with a super clean, rim-shot inspired backing track on the drums to really put the thing in motion, courtesy of the cue sticks of Leo Margarit, who’s also responsible for producing the album.

Nonetheless, the album seems to become tenser, and ever refined in its purpose, the further along it goes. Some of the opening numbers seemingly transition between a multitude of drum patterns, bass lines, and tempos in an almost sort of desultory manner in which they appear to be finding their way. “The Decent” largely belies this phenomenon with its smooth pianos and lively drums.

But by the time the artist unveils “Echo de Tonnere”, which very well could contain a sitar, and “I See Beauty”, she’s singularly locked into her purpose, the atypical drum patterns beating against you, her vocals dancing somewhere around, if not over, your head.

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