The latest release from timeless four-piece Fjall finds the players slowly unleashing their wares in two live experiences, one from 2025 at Sidney & Matilda and the other from Samuel Worth Chapel in 2023, both in Discus‘s hometown of Sheffield.
At these events, the players, once again surrounding themselves with a vast array of instruments, attempted to push on from 2023’s studio album and take the listener on journeys that move outside time and place, offering smeared snapshots of environments dreamt before edging further into the unknown.
With flutes, harps, psalteries, melodica, organ, electronics, tabla, bells, drums, percussion and further assorted treats, you could be forgiven for thinking this would be an overwhelming barrage of noise, but instead the approach is subtle yet insidious; space being created by all four, which allows the myriad connections and combinations to be fully appreciated.With four tracks spread over two discs and clocking in at around two-and-a-half hours, Fjall allow the diverse pieces to set their own pace, unfurling slowly, percussive hints and the drone of reeds setting out the initial base. Sounds are released carefully, sparse in the welcoming space that the quartet insists on maintaining. It feels like an awakening in a forest far from the gaze of humans, familiar drifts that take on different meaning in the pastoral context; but as things progress, so the perspective changes with electronics and ship horns changing the direction and adding a vague momentum aligned with darker urges.
Tabla, founds sounds and their percussive subtleties are constantly shifting the action into a tableau of intercontinental distorted visions. Bowed cymbals and distant voice take us back in time, the wash of electronics dissolving the centuries as buildings vanish and only land remains. Sparse passages are carried by the drip of water and the sing of metal until peace reigns again. It is a lot to take in and that it just one piece; so when a circular drone and tabla strikes push us into another continent, it is best to just sit back and see where we end up. The two percussionists and their varied kit really prepare an exotic and interwoven backdrop upon which melodica crosses the ages with just at the hint of fresh tension. This is all outside recognised structure, a patchwork that highlights the warmth of Jan Todd‘s voice and the scream of Martin Archer‘s sax.The air becomes thicker and there is a sense of the spiritual and the ritualistic, hypnotic mantras picked up as the radio dial swings.These dramatic shifts seem perfectly natural, with organ and harp oppressed by thunderous rumbling and electronic quails.You imagine this constant search for the ultimate connection would be wearing, but the quartet seem energised by it.
The second disc contains more variations on this continuous search, the sinuous and sparse textural opening revelling in the space. They seem intent on conjuring something new up with every turn; and on the third piece, we are lost in the desert with sands constantly shifting below our feet, but the distant vista ever-beautiful and seemingly out of reach. By the time we reach the final number, the more rhythmic tribal elements have come to the fore again, forsaking the burnt desert torpor. With the melodica on hand it is almost dubby, but the sheets of sax and the return of the drone changes the air again, seemingly whipping all their desires into frenzy. It has that kaleidoscopic element, as if we are watching a film where each image blurs and dissolves into the next.The frenzy of percussion is the most intense thing so far, with grinding feedback as the complete antithesis of what has come before; but as the conclusion nears, so sounds start to drop away, reverting to near silence before the audience erupts. Fjall seem to be searching for some new expression interlacing the ancient with the modern to create a timeless, limitless soundscape appealing to all; and with these dramatic and far reaching pieces they have done just that.
-Mr Olivetti-
