Man tänker sitt by Erik Enocksson

Man tänker sitt like

by Erik Enocksson

Price:: €5.90

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1	play	Add to Playlist	Prologue Somnio	1:57	€0.59	Buy Share This Song like
2	play	Add to Playlist	I. Nox egoque soli	2:30	€0.59	Buy Share This Song like
3	play	Add to Playlist	II. Non lupi	2:28	€0.59	Buy Share This Song like
4	play	Add to Playlist	Non strigis	3:18	€0.59	Buy Share This Song like
5	play	Add to Playlist	Haec silva odi	4:32	€0.59	Buy Share This Song like
6	play	Add to Playlist	III. Nox egoque soli	2:13	€0.59	Buy Share This Song like
7	play	Add to Playlist	IV. Non ursae	2:54	€0.59	Buy Share This Song like
8	play	Add to Playlist	Finale Ange, nocte nudapecta	4:09	€0.59	Buy Share This Song like
9	play	Add to Playlist	Epilogue	3:26	€0.59	Buy Share This Song like

Album Info

Man tänker sitt – or Burrowing – is the score to Henrik Hellström and Fredrik Wenzel’s film of the same name. Composed by Stockholm-based musician Erik Enocksson, the soundtrack to Man tänker sitt is an otherworldly musical experience, underpinning the low-key tale of Swedish suburban life with a suitably spectral and evocative collection of compositions. At times reminiscent of the quietly enchanting soundtrack work by contemporaries such as Yann Tiersen and Clint Mansell, this score finds Enocksson channelling the circular melodies of Philip Glass too, all delivered with an ethereally baroque slant.

Near choral in its dense arrangements – with voices layered and building to concoct a graceful slew of harmonies, which sound almost Gregorian in their heart-melting simplicity – Man tänker sitt is hauntingly stark, capturing most of its moments with a lithe combination of voices, usually accompanied by little more than a heavy-hearted piano chord or similarly unobtrusive, creaking instrumentation.

From the meandering calm of the prologue to the wheezing epilogue, there’s a hint of the bittersweet coursing through Enocksson’s oeuvre, allied with a playfulness and crystalline beauty. On compositions such as ‘Haec silva odi’, the vocal arrangements are accented with minimal backing and the feeling conjured is one of childhood innocence but tinged with the loneliness and isolation of viewing the world through the eyes of someone much older. There’s a bruised poignancy at the heart of the music contained here – damaged and melancholy yet utterly defiant, the elegant fragility of Enocksson’s compositions is evident throughout.

In contrast, the rustic folk delight of ‘Non ursae’ takes its taut, repeated melody, and winds delicately before reaching a rapid but disarmingly pretty climax. Its airy folk feel and loping tempo are eerily redolent of Enocksson’s troubadour compatriot, Ass, propelled by dextrous picking and a neat rhythm, while a gently humming bass anchors the nocturnal melody. So different from what’s gone before it, there’s a hint of drone on what becomes shrouded in something approaching the eerie, ambient atmospheres of post-rock, yet all brimming with Enocksson’s impressive knack for crafting stately arrangements.

Weaving myriad musical motifs throughout, the eight tracks included on Man tänker sitt are unified by a mellifluous tone which creates an admirable, flowing suite of arrangements. Few contemporary composers have such a gift for evoking subtle moods and producing astonishingly emotive music.