Susanna - "Sonata Mix Dwarf Cosmos"

Susanna - People Living (Rune Grammofon 2007)

Susanna – Sonata Mix Dwarf Cosmos / Rune Grammofon

I am a hearty purveyor of all things instrumental, but recently I have found myself completely immersed in the human voice. Three artists in particular have crept their way into my consciousness and are refusing to let anyone else even approach my ears: Van Morrison, Scott Walker and Nina Simone. The way in which they emote each and every syllable with such sincere conviction twists my stomach in both voyeuristic embarrassment for listening during their most fragile moments and shared emotional resonance by suffering the impact of their fervor. It actually verges on being painful to listen. But this is exactly why we invest so much in music: the shared shouldering of emotions we would rather not have to face alone, having that encompassing voice (which can as easily be instrumental as vocal) travel down the beaten path of life along side you. When it taps into just the right frequency that your state of mind is currently residing within, words like “religious” are easily used to describe the feeling. Morrison, Walker and Simone have been revered for decades because of their ability to bear and express this emotional weight with such creativity; the way that they utilize their voice in such completely individual and expressive manners has become modern music’s definition of vocal prowess. It would be hyperbolic to go ahead and group Susanna Wallumrød with these monolithically respected singers, but as Sonata Mix Dwarf Cosmos shows us, she is certainly making a case for her application to be considered for this highly exclusive club.

Over the last few years, Susanna Karolina Wallmurød’s stock as an aspiring Norwegian artist has risen exponentially. Signed to Norway’s mecca of creative music, Rune Grammofon, under the name Susanna & the Magical Orchestra, Wallmurød joined almost exclusively by talented multi-instrumentalist Morten Qvenild (Jaga Jazzist, Shining, In the Country) pens highly romantic minimal chamber pop tunes that practically redefine the resonance of a torch song. Their elegant debut in 2004, List of Lights and Buoys received high international praise for their intimate explorations in the modern interpretation of vocal jazz, and 2006’s Melody Mountain found the pair really showing off their talents by producing and all-covers album in their own particular style. Never have AC/DC, Prince and Depeche Mode sounded so refined and elegant. For album number three though, the Magical Orchestra has been dropped making this Wallmurød’s solo debut. Her sound though is still very much the style established with Qvenlid: the Nico-meets-Joanna Newsom vocals supported by minimal arrangements of an assortment of keys and strings with just brief appearances from drums and electronics. Other notable session players involved in this project include members of The White Birch, Big Bang and In the Country along with a few other respected Norwegian musicians.

Like the album’s artwork, Wallmurød’s most defining characteristic is her ability to use only the most minimal amount of actual sound, but have it resonate with a vast amount of emotion. She kneads the negative space, letting each one of her enunciated, perfectly keyed syllables arc and fade; your ears yearn for her to break the enveloping silence, whose darkness continuously threatens to completely take Wallmurød away from you at what seems like your most dire state of need. On some tracks, “Hangout” and “Demon Dance” in particular, she refuses to settle into any discernable chorus-based structure, instead teasing you Simone-like over a tender harp or a lulling double bass with her bows of melody. When she does give you a chorus, “People Living” being the prime example, those moments of expectancy are withheld until the very last possible second and constricted to only the briefest of spaces. It tenses both the music and your ears, winding the apprehension and making the relief all that more tantalizing. Wallmurød herself never seems rushed, anxious or restless, instead coming off with the Madonna (not the pop star)-like patience only exemplified in the female spirit.

The session players accentuate Wallmurød with an equal amount of grace, keeping to tight, elliptical melodies that rarely approach the volume of Wallmurød’s voice. And the instrumentation typically matches the heavenly tone of her voice as well, the tenderly sighing theremin sweeping beneath “Intruder” for example, or the celesta brightly pattering during “Hangout.” Wallmurød flutters throughout Sonata Mix Dwarf Cosmos, evoking a stream of emotions with just the subtlest vocal tics. It is music for the most personal of moments, when you don’t need a physical presence to comfort you, but just a comforting voice to help shoulder the emotional load. Granted there are a few moments where she slips into almost a Fiona Apple-like gown, but for the most part, it harks back to names like Nico or Simone or Walker. She bows the words like a cello, slightly oscillating the pitch, dragging the tone with elegant glissando. And they hum with the same romantic resonance, filling in the negative space of your room, your ears and your mind with soothing assurance.