Loney, dear Loney, Noir by: Tom Hall Mon:19-Feb-07 Label: Sub Pop Year: 2007 WB rating 86 out of 100

Loney, dear is the sound of Swedish songsmith Emil Svanängen recording in “the tiny, sweltering hot Stockholm studio apartment, or in the cool basement of his parents house.” Using a “minidisc mic and a set of headphones to avoid disturbing his neighbours,” this is the sound of Scandinavian intrigue at its most modern. This is a heritage of pop sensibility that has been handed down from Abba through Nokia via Volvo and Saab, filtered finer than Absolut Vodka and given a sudden last second push from Icelandic cousins who sing with the vocal phrasing of Faerie Royalty.

Soon we are going to have to stop with such associations. The “Scandinavian Sound” is a complete myth. Just like the Seattle Sound before it, the pseudoscience of phrenology before that, and the fear of femininity in the Middle Ages – which gave pretence for the wholesale slaughter of so many black cats across Europe that irreparable damage was done to the once strong gene pool of semi-domesticated felines.

All of these things serve only to distort and disrupt, and all are entirely irrelevant to the simple fact that the strength of this album comes from its singularity. Loney, Noir is full of sound and textures of such unique composition that upon listening it induces an almost nauseating sense of dislocation. Following in the tradition of Sigur Ros’ incredible ‘Starálfur’, and the sort of smoothed, folklore-enriched instrumentation’s employed by Sufjan Stevens on tracks such as Come On Feel The Illinoise!’s ‘The Tallest Man, The Broadest Shoulders’, Loney, dear possesses a penchant for beautifully sung lyrics and a dynamic use of woodwind, brass and vocal harmonies. This is most evident on tracks such as the gentle builder ‘Carrying A Stone’ and album opener ‘Sinister In A State Of Hope’. ‘Carrying A Stone’ being an absolutely gorgeous song, a song which seems to rollick through the fertile woods of a childhood lost, ascending and falling with such gentle majesty that it appears to swell beyond the constraints of the less than four minutes it inhabits.

‘Sinister In A State Of Hope’ is far more grounded. Nonetheless the song has the effect of tugging on the very substance of ones disposition, coaxing it to lift, wooing you into the semblance of a smile. As an album opener it’s perfect: gently synthesised strings fade in and cue the soft plucking of an acoustic guitar, Svanängen’s voice enters from out of the silence, singing gently the first words of the album: “Sinister, in a state of hope”. The contrast between what is being said and how it is been said introduces a tension between the music and words at the outset, a tension which is played out to great effect at many points throughout the album. The “sinister” element of Loney, dear’s sound elevates it above just ‘pop’. It is this element that is fundamentally responsible for creating a feeling of dissociation with the world; the kinder world recalled with such frequency elsewhere on the album.

Such elements lend the album an almost perplexing sense of weightlessness, refusing to commit to one world view or another. The effect this has on the listener is deliciously seductive. On ‘I Could Stay’, we are treated to a Sgt Pepper-style ditty which indulges in big band orchestration, yet refuses to be anything other than intimate. It is seemingly condensed within Svanängen’s life in that studio apartment in Stockholm, like a miniature bedroom marching band peopled with ambivalent gnomes and faeries. Such is the strangeness of the sound, and the compact nature of the arrangement.

Like most compelling expressions the more obscure, unclear moments on the album are the ones which hours and days later take form in your subconscious, then stick with you, fleshing out its appeal so that it comes to resemble a truly wonderful piece of work. Nowhere is this more evident than on the tremendous one-two punch of ‘I Am John’ and ‘Saturday Waits’. The latter showing us Svanängen’s ability to put together a song which is subtle in its complexity, easing the listener into the giant hooks and melodies, developing a relationship with us before it imposes its whorish catchiness all over our ears. This is the sound of an extremely talented composer and a very capable producer, whose ability to layer sounds with the optimal result cannot be underrated. 

The clincher, however, is ‘I Am John’. As completely soaked in hooks, clarinet, rollicking low level percussion and melody as the rest of the album is, Svanängen’s credibility as a writer stands defiantly in the centre of all this, impervious to all that is pouring down around it. Narrating a Huck Finn-style adventure, Svanängen takes turn recounting: “Johnny and I, we got lost tonight/we got carried away, it takes someone like me to lose track like that”, reminiscing: “I've got a feeling of you and we danced for so long”, and openly freaking at the responsibility of what he is promising: “and I got some bruises and I got a scar…I will always let you down.” Considering the title of the song, this self dedication is incredibly moving, and the octave-higher reprise: “I've got a feeling of you and we danced for so long/I want your arms around me like lovers do” breaks your heart. While the entire album is a highlight, ‘I Am John’ lifts Emil Svanängen’s creation, Loney, Noir, into the stratosphere. ‘I Am John’ showcases a flair for the absurdly unique and the heart-wrenchingly naïve. It is an effortless infusion of weightless sincerity and one which cannot be passed over with ease, just as it cannot be dismissed with cliché or generalisations.

Loney, Noir is a fantastic album, inhabiting the seemingly impossible cosmic overlap between the Pixies, The Beach Boys and Sigur Rós. Between the subtleties of found-object percussion, and the refined beauty of the intricate arrangements which litter every song, there stands a creation which will both captivate and entertain. Mainstream ready and underground borne, Loney, dear’s interface with the music community should make for very interesting watching.