One Little Indian

There’s one word for this record: lush. Each song is beautifully crafted, resembling a soundscape more than a traditional piece of music. When a groove comes in, it does so almost reluctantly, as if not wishing to interrupt or get in the way of the other textures.

It is, predictably, Scandinavian. Well, Icelandic. The three-part Samaris hail from Reykjavik, a city that seems to have cornered the market in music as crystalline and delicate as an ice sculpture. They have cleaned up stacks of awards, are busy touring the UK and genuinely making a wonderful nuisance of themselves. In a good venue, with great acoustics, the songs from
this record could turn your brain inside out.

There are very few dull spots here. If you’re prepared to settle in and take your time with this, and to really soak in songs like Tíbrá and Máninn og bróðir hans, then you’re in for an amazing ride. It’s not as if you’re going to be able to avoid them, given that at least three of their songs are bound to pop up on car advertisements in the next few months. That’s no bad thing.

Rob Boffard