Style: Progressive metal, Nordic Folk, Djent (Clean vocals, Danish lyrics)
Recommended for fans of: Kalandra, VOLA, Myrkur, Tesseract, David Maxim Micic
Country: Denmark
Release date: 31 January 2025
The Grammys have just been and gone and, a Gojira win notwithstanding, it’s a reminder of how far removed from the mainstream prog really is, not just in form but in theme. Distilling any genre down to a single theme is stupidly reductive but I’m going to do it anyway, and modern pop’s main theme to my mind is interpersonal drama. Whether it’s Sabrina Carpenter’s horny paeans to her exes, Kendrick Lamar calling out Drake’s apparent hebephilia, or Beyoncé butchering a Dolly Parton classic in order to threaten whoever her husband cheated on her with, the tenor of pop feels a bit like it’s stuck in high school. Perhaps that’s because all of these people were popular in high school; the average prog musician almost certainly wasn’t, and that might explain the intellectualised escapism of the genre’s preoccupations—we get concept albums about prehistoric epochs, cosmic nihilism, and the rise and fall of empires. When a band like Danefae, a young Danish quartet, come along drawing on their country’s cultural history and nature metaphors to tell stories in their native Danish, that information hits the average Grammy voter with the force of an anti-meme.
“Fuglekongen” opens their sophomore effort, Trøst, with contemplative harmonies and twittering bird song. Pretty piano dances with intricate percussion before segueing into a waltzing chorus, where the vocal melody lifts the tune of “La Danse Macabre” by Camille Saint-Saëns. So far, so picturesque, which makes Danefae’s heavier excursions all the more surprising. Indeed, fans of the first album and newcomers alike will be shocked when the djent grooves come in. While Tro was rooted in the Nordic folk of artists like Kalandra and Myrkur, Danefae’s sound has evolved and, here, dives more heavily into a mode of progressive metal familiar from the likes of VOLA and Tesseract. The final product, if it resembles any work in particular, often recalls David Maxim Micic’s dreadfully underrated ECO. The counterpoint between the two modes, airy lightness and crushing heft, is an evocative combination conjuring images of viking ships in turbid seas backlit by Valhalla shining on the horizon.
Vocalist and pianist Anne Olesen is the beacon guiding the roiling metal to the safety of the shore, her mellifluous delivery and youthful timbre soaring gently above. Singularly, she carries the folk-tinged melodies, but often her vocals are layered with those of guest vocalists into stronger harmonies and even to swells of choral proportions. On the grief-laden epic “P.S. Far er død”, a glorious polyphony builds around the six minute mark as Olesen and guests Andreas Dahl-Blumenberg and Ole Olesen become a consonance of chattering voices. Her impressive vocal versatility roots the listener while the rest of the band play across the rock/metal spectrum. Her chanting on “Vætter” conceals the growing heaviness of the instrumentation underneath, the band layering themselves toward an explosive finale, while her breathy syncopated delivery on the bridge of “Vandskabt” thrums with energy. “Natsværmer” opens with eerie piano arpeggios and deliciously ominous bass slides which undergird the track, contrasting the yearning for light of the verses with its vaunted discovery in the far more optimistic chorus.
Much heavier moments abound, however. “Natsværmer” crescendos with a few strikes of Meshuggah-density djent, which also see use on the thunderous main riff of the baptismal spume of “Vandskabt”, a track more post-metal in flavour with tremolo highs and stalwart drum work. “P.S. Far er død” features a couple of sublimely melodious guitar solos, and around halfway through the vocal polyphony explodes into a section featuring chugging Car Bomb-esque riffs and tremolo picked lows before resolving itself into a belting finale. “Blind” is perhaps the most consummate blend of the lighter and heavier elements on the album, issuing VOLA-esque grooves beneath rich atmospheres of synth and piano and delivering a cathartically massive chorus.
Trøst’s sonic chiaroscuro, the fissile interplay of the lighter elements—piano, strings and reserved percussion—with the heavier, has a holistic quality, a pleasing completeness. Occasionally, the heaviest outings shift their sound too far into the realms of more generic metal, while the title track, a two minute solo guitar interlude feels a little too light and disconnected to really be at home on the record. These moments which fail to play to Danefae’s unique strengths never choke the compositions, although they do sometimes drag individual songs down for thirty seconds or so. For the most part, however, the deft equipoise is shockingly well done.
A resounding sophomore effort, one can take comfort in Danefae’s atomic mastery, melding the heaviest grooves and the airiest elements into a unique amalgam of Nordic folk serenity with progressive metal’s claustrophobic crush for a sound that’s eminently habitable and aids their Danish storytelling. Trøst takes its time, its obvious aesthetics slowly unfurling to reveal greater depths and complexity with multiple listens; that may well be the very antithesis of being brat, and it probably precludes Danefae from ever getting a Grammy nomination but, honestly, who the hell cares?
Recommended tracks: Fuglekongen, Vandsbakt, P.S. Far er død
You may also like: Madder Mortem, Meer
Final verdict: 7.5/10
Related links: Bandcamp | Spotify | YouTube | Facebook | Instagram
Label: Independent
Danefae is:
– Anne Olesen (vocals and piano)
– Anders Mogensen (guitar)
– Carl Emil Tofte Jensen (bass)
– Jonas Agerskov (drums)
