Sigbjørn Apeland: Glossolalia
Hubro

Focusing exclusively on sounds generated by Norwegian suction bellow-operated harmoniums for his debut solo album, Sigbjørn Apeland presents a powerful argument on behalf of the instrument. Once commonly found in churches, schools, and private homes, the harmonium is now rarely heard; Apeland himself admits that though he grew up with it, he shifted his focus to piano and church organ until rediscovering the harmonium as an effective choice for collaborations with Norwegian folk musicians, such as Hardanger fiddler Nils Økland (Apeland's also worked with Norwegian folk singers and electronica outfit Alog).

The music developed through Apeland's interplay with folk musicians, improvisers, and computer musicians and his own self-described attempt to create a form of “ambient acoustic music.” Such a description fails to capture how lovely the album's five improvised settings are, however, and how powerfully emotional they can be too. Apeland wrings the most affecting degree of melancholy possible from the material, whether it be the wistful opener “Flyt,” brief coda “Lite,” or the mournful “Mildt,” a meditation that is at certain moments so lovely it verges on heartbreaking. Apeland also manages to push the material into other directions, too, such as when the ruminative approach he brings to “Bulder og lys” gives it the feel of an Indian raga (it's here, perhaps, where the album's title relates most directly, as glossolalia—the term comes from the Greek, with “glossa” meaning “tongue” and “lalia” meaning “to speak”—is associated with speaking in tongues in such a way that the unintelligible sounds emitted suggest a state of religious ecstasy).

August 2011