Whispering Void, “At the Sound of the Heart” (Prophecy Productions)

Review by Kira L. Schlechter

As its creators have implied, “At the Sound of the Heart” is music for decompression. “Put your phone down,” they advise; listen to the sound of your heart, the blood in your veins, the call of nature. We are only here for an eyeblink before we are gone – we exist and then we don’t.

That is not to say that this album by Whispering Void – rather a supergroup of Norwegian alternative/extreme music – is wifty or wafty or New Age-y. Its makers all have heaviness at their cores and it seethes with that excitement. Anything ambient or proggy or psychedelic most often grows into an entity lashed with metal. Lyrics are in the group’s native tongue and in English.

Guitarist Ronny Stavestrand (Trelldom) created the music, and his collaborators – all from the west coast of Norway, as he is – brought their own formidable backgrounds to the project. Wardruna’s Lindy-Fay Hella and Kristian “Gaahl” Eivind Espedal sing (he was in Trelldom with Stavestrand and is of course also famed for his time in Gorgoroth).

Enslaved’s Iver Sandøy contributes his talent on drums and percussion, as well as on bass, guitar, and keyboards; he also recorded, mixed, and mastered the album. He said in a record label interview that he was sonically inspired by the late avant-garde musician Scott Walker, particularly his third album, “Scott 3.” 

Guest musicians add their own touches: Ole André Farstad plays guzheng and Indian slide guitar; Matias Monsen plays cello; and Silje Solberg contributes the distinctive ambiance of Norway’s native hardanger fiddle. 

“Vinden vier” (“The Wind Sanctifies” or “The Wind Unites”) is built on a winding, sinuous melody that starts on acoustic guitar. Layers build and drums are added, then the melody becomes electric as Lindy-Fay driftingly sings and Kristian chants breathily along to the tempo. This track really bears Iver’s stamp in many ways, from the open, airy drums-and-programming segment to the segue into a heavier, more thunderous portion to the deconstruction of the core melody at the end.

The stunning “Vi finnes” (“We Exist”) has Lindy-Fay and Kristian whispering the lyrics together to a light, rolling groove and a haunting guitar melody. In what could be considered a chorus, she breaks into the wordless singing she does so well and the melody and drumming intensify to glorious effect. It too has a quiet, measured portion before picking up the chorus section anew. Kristian tenderly repeats the line “Vi finnes aldri” (roughly, “we never exist”) as the music dies away, then Lindy-Fay’s melody is carried on and reworked by guitar. Do listen to this one; it’s superior.

Ronny’s melody starts “Whispering Void” as it has the previous tracks, aided by Ivar’s sensitive drumming; the two of them become decidedly heavier as the song takes hold. Kristian and Lindy-Fay are so tightly melded as to be almost indistinguishable on the vocals at first, then he repeats the opening lines in almost spoken-word fashion before singing them in a near monotone. A delicate guitar, like a light breath, then a crescendo of drums lead to the final section. Its rhythm unrelenting, its mix dense, it has both singers delivering evocative lines like “Walking from the now/walking through the sound” again in unison before gently falling into an almost music-box rendition of the melody to end.

Ronny’s melancholic acoustic melody undulates throughout the first part of the title track as Lindy-Fay croons wordlessly and Kristian whispers. Those lovely guitar textures segue into an almost sinister, foreboding cello solo as Iver picks up with more insistent drumming. The lot rises dramatically into electric guitar, bass, and Iver’s syncopated groove as Kristian mutters what’s really the album’s ultimate goal: to be “here within the void … at the sound of the heart,” that is, to reach introspection and reflection.   

The evocative instrumental “Lauvvind” is this project most perfectly realized musically – simple picking, a languid groove led by bass, touches of electronic percussion, then a crescendo into a headbanging-worthy ending.

“We Are Here” may begin with cello and ever-so-light percussion, but it’s really notable for Ronny’s deceptively simple guitar melody, one that acts as a touchstone across the track – before a drift of fiddle and Kristian repeating its only lyrics (“We are here/Within the voices/We are here/Within the void”), then chiming along to Iver’s march-style drumming, and then  floating beneath in the ether under a chaotic, almost black-metal breakdown. It reprises finally at the end to no other accompaniment. 

The closing piece, “Flower,” seems to coalesce everything this project was meant to achieve. It’s built again on Ronny’s shifting melodies, with wordless vocals so closely blended tonally that they become genderless and Iver’s scattershot, jazz-like low-end drum commentaries. Kristian speaks the meditative lyrics – “Where is the morning/Where are the rays of light/Where are the flowers/And the colors of life” – and that question is answered by that same blending of vocals, male and female: “This is the morning/This is the rays of light.”  

“At the Sound of the Heart” is a jewel, a collaboration that brings together each of its parts into a whole that is so innately harmonious, it’s as if it was of one singular mind. Like its mission, it too exists for this moment alone and it is precious for its fleeting nature.