Pauline Hogstrand ~ Áhkká

A loose conceptual framework is at play on Áhkká, a beguiling release by violist and composer Pauline Hogstrand whose title honors the “queen mountain”of her native Lappland. Hogstrand suggests that the album’s arc is comparable to the act of hiking, complete with uphill and downhill inclines, the tension of exertion, and the relief of release. While the material assumes a sort of rise-and-fall shape, Hogstrand seems to be in pursuit of deeper meanings. 

The first of the two tracks, “Herein,” establishes and maintains a low and steady tone that almost imperceptibly accumulates color, density, and proportion. Within seconds, it splits into distinct upper and lower registers, retaining its focus without diffusing any of its energy or drive, before continuing in a newly charged form. Odd, muffled knocks and thumps cascade through the track like scree set loose and sent tumbling. Coarse, scraping sounds emerge and fade, unseen jets passing overhead. A metallic bass tone wedges its way in and flattens into a menacing drone. A queasy throb bubbles up and envelops the sonic field. The first obvious appearance of a stringed instrument occurs halfway into the track, and its familiar presence in this destabilized context is suitably jarring. Hogstrand begins grinding out deep notes on her viola as if shifting everything into lower gears for the next phase. However, all notions of ascent begin to feel abandoned as a palpable tension irreversibly radiates. Dense, straining braids of sound struggle to pull the piece back toward a slow and gradual ascent to upper tonal registers, but that gesture is met with a growling, chthonic resistance. Stasis sets in. And here, hopelessly mired with no clear path ahead, is where Hogstrand brilliantly fades to black.

The second track, “Magnitude,” sets off in synthesized pulses and throbs that are soon overlaid with Hogstrand’s soothing and stately viola strokes. Gone are the urgency and angst of “Herein.” In their place is a placid, glowing atmosphere, one that floats and drifts, beyond direction, beyond meaning – until, inexplicably, the track vaporizes to near silence and starts again, this time with muted, atonal keys sending out tentative patterns of notes over sour pads. Diaphonous, granulated gusts of sound swirl across vaulting depths, conjuring a profound sense of being lost in unfamiliar territory – and with that, the feeling that time has become as malleable as space. From this unmooring of the physical and temporal, Hogstrand allows everything she’s gathered to swoon and sink in long, sighing tones and mournful chords.  The chords echo and fade as the track succumbs to a kind of sonic gravity while it reaches toward its own end. When the track stops, the silence in its wake feels haunted by what’s come before it – a testament to the emotive power of this measured conclusion.

It’s hard to believe while listening that there’s only one musician involved. Yet with viola, field recordings, and synthesizers, Hogstrand singlehandedly conjures up worlds both real and imagined that transcend notional narrative limitations while creating a destination of her own making.  (Damian Van Denburgh)