Ulfur Hansson aka Klive is described as sounding like “digital folkâ€. Although I can’ think of two more opposite terms to put together, somehow it describes what he does quite well. Glitched out brass samples and the bashing of pots and pans and rolled together in that cheeky Icelandic style, merging field recordings and computerised rhythms with ease.
“Wailing Corpuscles’ could be referring to a cartoon of some barnacles on a beach screaming because they’ve had too much sun. Or maybe it’s just me. Either way, it does have a slight seaside feel, as water bubbles and finches chirp away in the foreground. Title track “Sweaty Psalms’ almost perfectly sums up what Klive are about, merging all of their favourite elements together: field recordings, glitch, synths, and samples melt together into an aural kaleidoscope of ever changing hues. “Giants’ crushes bells and metal together under tightly wound horn bursts and the sound of someone gasping for air. Compelling. “Don’ Give Up The Ghost’s is a freaked out all in percussion jam, apparently using samples of pots and pans being banged outside the Icelandic Parliament following the nation’ financial crash in 2008. Despite its ominous undertones, penny whistles blow out a good time melody over the din. “Common Wealth’ slices together a haphazard beat beneath whirring and processed vocals. I’m trying my absolute hardest no to mention a particular vocalist whose name starts with B, however given the locale, I can’ hold it against them for sounding anything like the afore-unmentioned artist. “Panacea’ clicks and pops to it’s own rhythm, as soft bells and gongs blow in the wind. “Swoon’ is all foreboding in its swagger, plodding away to dark synth melodies, while “Blck’ dispenses with any beat for its first half, before barrelling into a glitch fest of clicks and scrapes. “Vultures’ is a surprisingly gentle choice of closing track, and eases back into the comfort of some earlier pieces, gently letting you go.
With Sweaty Psalms, Klive has conjured up an intoxicating mix of pots and pans, solid bass, cheeky horn samples and just enough glitch to not give you a headache. Although digital folk is quite an unusual term of definition, it’ll do for now.
But isn’ folk supposed to have banjo?
Nick Giles
