It’s no secret that I haven’t fully connected with the past few Airbag and Bjørn Riis albums. I mean, they always make good music, but it hasn’t stayed with me of late. When Bjørn announced a new record, I wasn’t entirely sure I’d take a listen, but I’m glad I did. His new solo record Fimbulvinter releases today, April 11th, and is one of my favorite things he’s done in years.
Bjørn is the guitarist for progressive rock band Airbag, but he’s released five solo records, too. I would say his 2014 debut Lullabies in a Car Crash is a bona fide masterpiece, honestly. On this new record, he handles vocals, bass, and keys, and brings with him Henrik Bergan Fossum, Arild Brøter, and Kai Christoffersen on drums.
Fimbulvinter is apparently the name for the long, harsh winter that proceeds Ragnarök in Norse mythology. I think it’s an appropriate title, and the cover, too, because of the melancholy music and relatable lyrics. The music deviates significantly away from the Floydian soundscapes for which Bjørn is known, and towards a darker, somewhat heavier progressive rock sound. The reserved, introspective tone is still there much of the time (which is my favorite part of his music), but the guitars have more edge and less time is spent on Floydian guitar soloing. In a way, this sounds more classic rock than progressive.
The lyrics, too, seem appropriate for the time of cold insecurity in which the world finds itself. The album explores our fears, both the deeply seated kind, and the type that hit us squarely in the jaw when we least expect it.
The album has only six songs, but lasts about 45 minutes. The opener “Illhug” is a two-minute acoustic intro, so the bulk occurs across five tracks. I really like “Gone”, which has the steady drive that some Airbag songs have, and I love the chorus and guitar musings in the second half. From there, we get my favorite track, “Panic Attack”, an eleven-minute piece that is considerably dark and thoughtful with moments of punctuated edge; I love the shadowy interlude that leads us into the raging instrumental near the end.
The final three tracks are all just as good. “She” is a floating, flitting piece that seems grainy, like an old memory; I love how it exists in its own space and there aren’t many lyrics, as if the pain is too great for words. The title track arrives next and is a nine-minute instrumental piece with great contrast between darkness and light; I love how it goes alternative here and there, but also some Floydian emotion rises at times. The rhythms and guitar licks are a little odd, almost unnerving, which seems to be the point. I love it.
The closer “Fear of Abandonment” is another favorite. It feels vulnerable; the vocals are hushed and uncertain. I love how it muses upon this before slowly transitioning into an emotional guitar solo, the kind Bjørn is so good at both composing and performing. The end of the album can feel a little hopeless, just like a long winter before the end of the world, and I think Bjørn wants it that way.
Bjørn Riis has created what is probably is best solo album since his debut. This album is flooded with emotion and feels as cold and exposed as the title implies. I love how frigid some songs can seem until Bjørn sweeps in with his signature, expressive guitars. It’s a wonderful contrast, and one I have been returning to often.
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The PROG Mind 