Storsveit Nix Noltes play ethnic jams that thankfully sound nothing like the tunes you get ferociously blasted with inside an Epcot gift shop. Although their name suggests they might be the Nordic fan base of this American heart-throb, they’re actually Iceland’s newest(only) Balkan-tinged 11-piece ensemble to sign with FatCat Records. The band was formed in 2004 by classmates at the Iceland Academy of the Arts, and features a few noted players, including Múm veterans like Kría Brekken, and Sigur Rós’ horn section.
Royal Family-Divorce (an interesting title seeing that this is sort of a super-group by indie rock standards) is realized in three movements. “Wedding Rachenitsa” comes out swinging in a gloriously claustrophobic frenzy of malnourished instruments struggling to rise in the pecking order. Momentum continues like a chase scene through some Bulgarian market place, kicking up dust and muscling down side streets. The stampeding drums of “Pajdusko” tirelessly pursue the tangled overdriven guitars, violins, and trombones all climbing towards ecstatic dissonance.
“Atmadja Duma Strachilu (Revolution Song)” is a refreshing downshift, comforting the scare of monotony just before I feel like I’m listening to the Trans-Siberian Orchestra reinvent holiday classics on my Grandma’s radio for the fifth Christmas Eve in a row. This brings us to the real meat of the album. “Elenska Rachenitsa” chisels out an occult post-rock jam á la Silver Mount Zion to shape the second movement, winding tighter and tighter and eventually releasing into the album’s first danceable segment. Next up is “Kopanitsa”, a festive counterpart launched by a spastic math guitar and jazz drum duet. The rest of the band then steps in to mediate the tension with a warm homebound flourish of horns, strings, and accordion. This song is the clincher.
The third movement begins with “Cetvorno Horo”. Ah-so that’s where you’ve been hiding, Múm! This scraping ambient track, with a large emphasis on accordion, sound manipulation, with dying woodwinds dragged behind, is the first one that really reminds me of the band member’s resumes. Not in a bad way, and certainly not in a copyright-infringing way. Rather, it proves to be a brief expressionist sketch that doesn’t overstay it’s welcome (and ends with a sample that sounds suspiciously like a horse eating an apple).
Stórsveit Nix Noltes, make note that Royal Family was recorded during an exceptionally sunny August in 2006, but the album scarcely reflects this feeling. Maybe it’s some deep seeded American tendency to withdraw a sense of unease from an instrument palette such as this, but the tone is generally more apocalyptic than cheerful. “Winding Horo” features a raw guitar lick that stalks the trombone and double bass, as the cymbal crashes whip at the heels of the squealing horns falling down a staircase. However, the album also offers a tasteful slice of voyeurism. Like the field recordings of Jeff Magnum’s European wanderings on his Orange Twin project, it coaxes out a willing suspense of disbelief that allows you to immerse yourself in the listening experience.
The album closes with “Nevestinko Horo”, a nice contemplative epilogue boasting a very romantic structure, which reminds us that this is an interpretation of Balkan music, nothing by the books. I can’t help but applaud the patience shown on this album, especially with such a hefty roster; their democratic use of sound space pays off in the end. It will be hard for Stórsveit Nix Noltes to side step the legends of their better-known musical ventures, but shit, I’m rootin’ for em. Really, once you figure out a way to block out the persisting Borat imagery in your head, this album’s pretty engrossing.
Royal Family Divorce is out on FatCat on April 13. You can get it here when it’s ready to drop.
Fagen-Becker Rating for Quality:
MP3 :::
Storsveit Nix Noltes – Elenska Rachenitsa
Storsveit Nix Noltes – Kopanitsa
