Published June 16, 2006
Foregoing unnecessary complications and abstract pretences, singer/songwriter Lára Rúnarsdóttir’s sophomore release, is at times, an honest, pretenceless portrayal of heartbreak and longing; so honest, in fact, that one is somewhat confused as to why Lára would choose to sing in English on several of the tracks, losing any credibility she has as a lyricist. The music’s quality wavers, in the best moments becoming a slow, stripped bare and slightly blues-inflected acoustic folk that refuses to be pinned solidly into a genre, while at other times sinking to depths of unfathomable jazz-ballad tackiness at other times. Aside from some shudderingly clichéd hooks from the guitar and keyboards, the band always gives Lára’s gentle, steady voice centre stage, but even the production refuses to remain consistent and tends to rob the band of its integrity; swirling and wintry in Vetur and Lonely Eyes (easily the best songs on the album), it sits completely flat in Ókunnugi Maður and Vatnið. All in all, it’s sort of like a teenager’s diary: forthright and heartfelt, but boring and corny as hell.