The first of the two long pieces contained in “Ensamseglaren” takes more than two minutes to propose a sound that is emitted by a recognizable instrument. In that interval of time, a primordial soup of creaks, strange radio signals and tingling buzzes emitted by invisible organisms almost deludes us into thinking we are facing one of the arctic expanses of ambient dub of the first Vladislav Delay. But the brass glissandos suddenly pierce the veil: we are in Sweden and not in Finland, and behind the scenes of this musical theater of the absurd there is a ensemble jazz, however atypical. Yes, because the saxophonist Anna Högberg, on her third album as leader of the Attack team, has this time gathered around her a surreal big bandswhich brings together, in addition to his alto sax, tenor sax, trumpet, trombone, tuba, a turntable, piano, guitar, two double basses and two drums (with the guitarist and one of the double bass players who don't mind using the bow saw too).
Six more minutes pass because the bellowing of the wind instruments, as well as the lava flows of distortions drone-metal that overlap, congeal into a colossal riff doomwith the rhythm section finally free to thunder, titanic. The whole thing then collapses into a new section of noises nonsenseand ends with a melancholy theme from marching band. In short, wandering in the boundless ocean of total improvisation, the exploration of which began more than sixty years ago with the AMM, we came across, through storms and unpredictable winds, a new island, emerging from the cold Scandinavian seas. A lone sailor guided us here (this is the meaning of ensamseglaren), represented, young, on the cover: it is none other than Högberg's father, who recently passed away, for whom the album represents a sort of funeral farewell. But in what sense, it's up to us to decipher.
For this purpose, the second suite“Gnistran/Hematopoesi/Emlodi”, can provide us with new keys. If the initial timbral puzzle appears even more disconcerting (theremin and electronics creep in to further confuse the cards), the schizophrenic dialogue between the members of the big bands ends up anchoring to a solid groove, whose balance between soulful warmth and erraticness free can make you think of a 60's Herbie Hancock revisited by Fire! Orchestra (of which Högberg is a historical collaborator). However, everything turns into a catastrophe of trumpets and drumming riots, which leaves behind only floating debris prey to the currents. And just when the double bass seems to be leading the gang to stabilize on a riff which could be a prelude to a demented assault wing Mr. Bungle, the curtain suddenly falls.
The at first glance delirious juxtaposition of the various sound pictures is not deceiving: to justify the alternation of these contradictions there is not (only) Dadaist taste, or cerebral postmodernism, but, above all, an unleashed emotionality, not at all shy in manifesting its protean volubility. In mourning there is loss, there is anger, there is wandering; in mourning it is necessary to give oneself the freedom of silence and the freedom of crying, to allow oneself to withdraw in commiseration, but also to recover from it through collective catharsis. The flow of “Ensamseglaren” celebrates the joy of being alive, in this moment, in a group, going through pain, trying to penetrate the inert mystery of the afterlife: do those strange whispers, those unintelligible moans come from there? Or maybe it's the wash of our memories that fail, vainly trying to reconstruct what is no longer there? It doesn't matter: death is both terribly serious and terribly banal, and you can't help but honor it and mock it at the same time.
29/12/2025
Antonio Santini for SANREMO.FM
