Album Review: The Golden Filter - Voluspa

Is it surprising that an escapist, Italo-like sound is making its comeback along with disco? Probably not. The angst now is different from the anxieties raging in the heydays of those genres, but one would have to look hard to find a busier era than the current one. An overload of information comes to us from everywhere: log out from your e-mail and you immediately have the latest scores and news, along with information masquerading as news while it really is not. That is if you ever get out of your e-mail, which if it is not bombarding you with all kinds of new scams, it's constantly reminding you of all kinds of social or business decisions you have to make. So escapism is, well, a big deal in current society.

So when last year there came this female singer singing about following a golden fox, in a golden dawn, to find a golden key, to do something with a golden heart, well, that was pretty alluring I would think. It was escapist, it was easy on the ear, it was a little bit of nu-disco, and it was something to dream off to. In other words, just the thing to guide us into the second decade of this millennium. And in that decade waits the album of this singer and her band, The Golden Filter. The album is mysteriously called Voluspa, after an old Norse poem that at least partly narrates the destruction and subsequent rise of a new, more beautiful world. Which, incidentally, is the point of this kind of music I think: dreaming or wondering about an idealized place or situation where one can find the inner peace and quiet one is looking for.

The violins on opening track ‘Dance Around the Fire’ indicate the overall feel of the album. Two thirds in one can dance when the song kicks it up a notch and everything gets accompanied by some vocal acrobatics befitting the atmosphere of the track. The key words here are “mystery” and “golden”, and we have to “await a discovery”. The second song is ‘Hide Me’, which has a pretty nifty synth accompaniment and goes with the theme that is pretty much the basis of escapism: hiding until someone finds you.

That, basically, could also be the deal breaker. Some might not be taken by this dreamy, slightly feeble kind of world. Not everyone likes to hide and dream, or likes to look down and shuffle their feet whilst thinking about golden skies and moonlight fantasies. Some of the songs are quite upfront in adopting a more passive role for its listener. One dreams, or follows golden foxes or illusions, but if one is of a more live-in-reality and take-charge-of-your-life philosophy, then this might be all a bit too, well, dreamy, a bit too nonsensical.

If one, however, might not think this a problem then one is in for a treat, as the band is great in achieving a dreamy vibe while allowing most people to have a bit of a dance as well. The opening track and ‘Solid Gold’ are definite highlights - the violin on the first and the nu-disco of the second are just fabulous. ‘Solid Gold’ is more danceable than some stuff, and I can see this being a real crowd pleaser live. It was one of my personal favourites last year, and hearing it on the album I’ve still not grown tired of it. It is followed by ‘The Underdogs’, which, despite the drums that occasionally echo through the song, is one of the softer tracks, and one through which the melancholy seeps: “Next time, another day, I wish you’d feel the same”. In Glass Candy fashion there’s even a spoken word telephone bit.

‘Stardust’ takes yet another stab at the mystical, but this time it is wrapped up in a six-minute song with rather fetching instrumental interludes. ‘Frejya’s Ghost’ is a rather understated affair, but I love the catchiness of it without being too jazzy or spotlight hogging. ‘Kiss Her Goodbye’ is a kind of cinematic intermezzo of a minute and a half, after which the album closes with ‘Nerida’s Gone’ and the previously released ‘Thunderbird’ - the former the closest thing to a slow ballad, the latter the closest thing to a club track. It now strikes me that a thunderbird is as mythical a creature as a dragon, and in the first track people are dancing around the fire, which may indicate that something has been destroyed to make way for something more beautiful. So suddenly there is some sort of resemblance to the narrative of the poem Voluspa, which the album takes its name from. I haven’t read the poem, and I will leave any analyses up to people who have, but I would be interested to hear whether the characteristics of the poem form a theme throughout the album.

Voluspa is filled with great Italo-esque songs, even though it perhaps sometimes goes a bit overboard with the illusionary imagery. The evoked atmosphere is a constant throughout the album, and the songs, whilst varied, display a sort of togetherness. No small feat for a debut, and I reckon this one will bring joy to a sizeable amount of people across the globe.