I'm going to go out on a limb and say, before I even begin my review, that Hei's Laivoja ja Junia is the best ambient album you've never heard for 2004. Readers of my lovelorn missives about ambient music know that I don't level such praise lightly. A little backstory: After a particularly lousy day at work, I came home to find a battered package from Stockholm, Sweden containing Hei's CD and a polite, handwritten note from one of the White Noise label's staff. I'll be honest--I receive a large number of CDs for review, and I don't generally get to them immediately, and I make a point to never listen right after work. I'll come to the promo pile over the weekend, liberate selections, listen intently; occasionally I'll sample a few during the week, after a meal and a glass of beer. Something drew me to the disc from Sweden immediately--perhaps it was the understated but lovely digipak artwork, or the handwritten message. The whys are unimportant now; after perhaps six minutes of listening, I was drawn directly into the shimmering maelstrom of Laivoja ja Junia, constantly wondering, "Just who is this?"

Though there is precious little information available on the internet, Laivoja ja Junia (English translation: "Ships and Trains") appears to be a meditation on travel and distance. While the travel content of the album may be ambiguous, the feeling of distance is evident from the first track, "...Me Encontré Solo en la Oscuridad" ("...I Was Alone in the Dark"). A flamenco guitar, sounding as if it is played on an old phonograph located deep within a tunnel or cavern, crackles dark and distantly. A sonorous tenor joins, deep and electronically tampered--his voice breaking up periodically, as if played through blown speakers. A bizarre but compelling start--we're in for quite a ride. "Junia ja Laivoja Akureyriin" is next, beginning with a furiously-layered classical guitar, as if Ennio Morricone and Steve Reich collaborated on a soundtrack to some lysergic spaghetti western. This impassioned spiralling of guitar playing devolves into pure ambient wall-of-sound, phasing wildly throughout. It quiets at around the nine-minute mark; a silence permeated with sitar-like plucking, a strange ethnicity unknown and untraceable. Even this is deconstructed by track's end into a Stars of the Lid dronescape, eventually evaporating entirely. A staggeringly fine beginning. Next, "Pohjoisnapa/Der es Salaam," offers a brief Spanish guitar strum, echoed as if played within the Cistern Chapel of Deep Listening Band fame. This is something of a palate-cleanser, as we are next treated to the most difficult track on the album, "Tango." A bizarre melodica melody brings us into the French cafe of the psyche. Pauline Oliveros is here to shock you out of your coffee-colored reverie; this quickly becomes a melodica-drone track with some intriguingly difficult sonorities. Perhaps less successful than the rest of the album due to its aimlessness, "Tango" serves as an unusual confection in a record full of sonic delights. "Lumisade" inhabits Lull or Lustmord territory, with subterranian drones accompanied by lovely guitar washes. The crackling of a vinyl record, or perhaps rainfall, gives this track a desperate melancholy, aching to behold. Yet another highlight, and one of the strongest tracks on the album. "Punainen Harmaa" is next, a drifting dronescape of subtly shifting tones, many of them high-pitched and slightly piercing. The guitar harmonics gel marvelously here, offering dark ambient fans an isolationist treat. If I had to assign track lengths on the album, I'd probably switch this with its predecessor "Lumisade," as "Punainen Harmaa" seems to meander on a bit too long for its nearly thirteen minutes. Finally, "Laulu Kuulle, ja Sateelle," presents another rain-soaked, melancholy atmosphere, perhaps drawn from the melodica. A subtle connection to Aloof Proof here, as a traditional instrument is bent to the infinite will of ambient--yet another resonant, subtly shifting tonescape. This is particularly lovely, as the different tones frequently form accidental melodies. This track is somehow ethic in flavor, with environmental noises offering comforting textures, as if a lone melodica-player intones along with the gradual action of the world around. Be careful with this track--sleep is not recommended; there's a surprise at the end of the track I'll leave for the curious listener to discover.

Hei creates a marvelously diverse and layered effort on Laivoja ja Junia--one that surprised me as often as it delighted. Hei seems particularly indebted to the early minimalists--on this album it's as if modern electronics were deserted entirely to give the album a timeless, classic feel that is at once familiar and original. Traditional instruments are chosen over the latest in technology, making a simple, lovely statement that's all over the ambient map. While you'll find no "original" sounds here, per se, Hei is clearly a practiced musician that delivers a fine record, satisfying all the way through. Fans of darker zones of ambient are encouraged to explore this work--I can't imagine appreciators of Mick Harris's ambient work, Lustmord, Caul, and others, finding a better album in 2004. I'm going to cut to the chase here: Head over to White Noise's site and listen. The label accepts Paypal--treat yourself. You'll be glad you did. Laivoja ja Junia gets my highest recommendation.

Available directly from White Noise.

since July 15, 2003