Hailing from a nowhere town in Scandinavia is almost a rite of passage to break out into the music mainstream.
One could be forgiven in assuming the Nords and The Danes and The Swedes have a distinctive advantage when it comes to assailing the UK Music scene. Maybe it’s the link between the bitterly cold and icy surroundings of Norway and the equally frosty undertones of High Street Kensington and surrounding boroughs.
For my sins, I have often negated our cousins across the North Sea, believing them to more often than not pander to expectations set by an increasingly conservative UK audience who need instant gratification before investment.
Nevertheless, one must be humble of spirit to critique art in any form and that being said I was pleasantly surprised when young Sigrid sailed into my inbox. If you are expecting Viking long ships and drinking horns sadly dear readers I shall have to disappoint you. There is that trademark Scandy melancholia tainted only slightly by the increasingly long arm of trap beats.
Towards the end, of the song leaps into an almost tribal ritual where I had a very brief moment of weakness imaging several scantily clad Nordic women dancing around a fire eating a goat alive. Startlingly I know but thankfully I was quickly pulled back to my small desk in North Suffolk by a rapturous final chorus. Bloody good tune coming to a fjord near you.
Words by Aaron Powell