Inspired by the heartbeat of a hibernating bear – a mere 9bpm – Wardruna use grand, lumbering drones, played on traditional stringed instruments such as the talharpa, to evoke a cinematic sense of centuries passing. Birna (“she-bear” in Old Norse) follows the Nordic-folk group’s previous Kvitravn (white raven) in centring a symbolic creature within animist traditions – and it’s stirring stuff.
Band leader Einar Selvik’s craggy voice, intertwined with Lindy-Fay Hella’s elemental ad-libs, strides across a dramatic landscape of primal percussion and tumbling bone flutes as he sings of the birna’s “awakening”, possibly to wreak revenge on the destroyers of her habitat. Yet, stretched over lengthy, cyclical tracks, all this grandeur starts to feel numbing rather than visceral, with repetitive lyrics that restrain these epic tracks from real adventuring. After a languorous first half, mid-record Himinndotter’s thrilling rhythmic shake-up is an essential injection of spring-like energy, while Hibjørnen’s stark, acoustic storytelling is a welcome respite from all the thunder.
