Album Review: Ásgeir, Julia

The good news: Ásgeir has released another polished record. Julia lays bare the artist's luminous inner world effectively, but from a safe distance, as if he’s walking along the edge of a cliff knowing there’s a net below to catch him.

Throughout the album, pedal steel guitars and light percussion help construct a soundscape as wispy as the ‘Sugar Clouds’ Ásgeir sings of. ‘Ferris Wheel’ sees him setting off with a lover as they ride into the sunset, cowboy-style, while ‘Universe’ catches him “under skies of marigold” as he plays with blobby synths. It can skew a tad saccharine, but Ásgeir’s reverence for the natural world acts as a grounding force, keeping him from floating into flimsy territory.

He is in top form on title track ‘Julia’. Over finger-plucked guitar and sombre strings, he weaves a tangled story of lost love and grief, with delicate vocal slides and vivid imagery, including references to a "snow-cloaked dune" and "swirling vapor." Ásgeir makes himself especially vulnerable here, creating a sobering mid-record reality check.

Julia rarely veers from the comfort of its twinkly, straightforward arrangements; it’s Ásgeir’s enigmatic falsetto that brings the intrigue. He approaches his vocals with audible humility, making his enviable range and tonal clarity all the more impressive. Imbued with heart, Julia is an excellent showing from one of Iceland’s most successful acts.

8/10