Kurr

AMIINAKURR

Known primarily as the four pixies (decked out in pseudo-spinster garb) who traveled the world opening for Sigur Ros as the height of their Takk fame, Amiina - María Huld Markan Sigfúsdóttir, Hildur Ársælsdóttir, Edda Rún Ólafsdóttir and Sólrún Sumarliðadóttir - have since become the next great hope of the minimalist, symphonic slowcore movement. The most unlikely of rock stars, these four Icelandic ladies (who began as a string quartet) are currently wowing the world with their debut album, Kurr, and for some reason the U.S. music press sits heavy, collectively twiddling their thumbs.

Kurr is not a pop album, not even close. Rather, it’s a late night soundtrack for the tragically hip, or maybe the comfortably un-hip, depending on your standard of life. Draped in Moog flourishes and sparse, distant vocals, Kurr’s backbone is its lush, understated string compositions. Amiina’s debut will put you to sleep – but for just this once, that’s a good thing, though it may be appropriate in the winter months.

The easiest reference point here is Sigus Ros’ own ( ) album (an album Amiina added strings to), though Kurr is much more subtle and unheroic. Simply, these ladies just want to float around somewhere in the background of their listener’s consciousness, inducing pleasant space-outs and momentary euphoria. Included in their arsenal of instruments are a digital piano, a celtic harp, a harmonium, a melodica, a celesta, pretty much every string instrument you could imagine, a kalimba, a Gideon harp and, naturally, a “musical saw.” This extensive collection of uncommon instruments make for enthralling, beautifully low key compositions full of stark originality and life.

A surprisingly pleasant riff from the composition-minded Iceland flock of closet prog rock enthusiasts, Kurr is one of the better debut albums so far of 2007, even if it does lack variety, hooks, drums and everything else most stateside listeners are used to. So take a Benydryl (or an ambian, or whatever), stretch out and enjoy this excellent pocket symphony from Iceland’s latest, greatest troupe of spinster string-dancing babes.  7.5/10

Written by G. William Locke