Solo artist, guitarist and producer, Bjørn Riis will released his highly anticipated sixth solo album, Fimbulvinter on 11 April 2025. Riis is also known as one of the founding members of the highly successful Norwegian band Airbag where he is their main songwriter, lead guitarist and produces their albums as well.
The album title Fimbulvinter, refers to Norse mythology and the tale of the long winter that precedes Ragnarok, which is a series of events and catastrophes, that will ultimately culminate in a final battle between the gods, the demons and giants. This will end in the death of the gods and the world will then be reborn. Bjørn has said it’s not an autobiographical album, but it is deeply personal as he shares parts of his own journey, addressing the subject of mental health, that he feels is both deeply important and still somewhat taboo.
Bjørn takes inspiration for the album from the atmospheric tones of progressive rock influences Pink Floyd and Porcupine Tree, blending them with the early hard rock sounds from the 80’s such as Kiss, Black Sabbath and Whitesnake, to bring a cornucopia of tunes for our delectation. On the album he plays all instruments and sings vocals, with contributions from talented collaborators, Henrik Bergan Fossum (Airbag), Arild Brøter (Pymlico), and Kai Christoffersen on various tracks. Long-time partner and co-producer Vegard Kleftås Sleipnes returns to ensure the album’s production is as flawless as it’s arrangements.
The sublime, short album opener, Illhug, floats acoustically into our ears, like a lazy bee as it drifts into a field on a warm summer’s day, in search of musical pollen, to chill by.
Track two revs up with swirling chords and a steady drumbeat as Bjørn tells of his urge and final commitment to leave and disappear, Gone without a trace, as we are propelled down the road by untamed, tyre burning guitar riffs. This reminds me so much of Arriving Somewhere But Not Here, as Bjørn tattoos his Porcupine Tree influences to this song for all to hear. There’s even a brief pause mid-song, to catch your breath before bolting away again like a car-jacker in a muscle car, horsepower straining at the cam-belt as he’s repeatedly pursued by a life he wants to forget. It makes you want to tear the top off your car and recklessly hurtle off into the distance, volume up to eleven. “I think it’s best for everyone”.
Rain beats heavily down, smothering and oppressive, as thunder rolls in the distance. A dank mood, uncertainty breeding nerves, as you wait for someone you are expecting to arrive by a given time. Will they arrive? Are they delayed, OK? What if they have an accident in the downpour and don’t get there. Your stomach lurches, temples pounded by heavy riffs, skin prickling with the static. You fight the rising Panic Attack as your heartbeat begins to race like a frightened herd and your pulse jumps on a trampoline of trepidation as you try to stay calm. Like a clinging, cold, wet blanket you are unable to eschew, the longest and probably heaviest track on the album drags you like a sodden, muddied rag through the mired grooves to a haunting conclusion.
The music gently bubbles and loops, issuing in the gentle acoustic chords on this simple yet beautiful love song, dedicated to the woman who is always there for you. She supports, cares and is always present to sooth you, when the day starts to close in and dark corners creep into your mind. The stability in the storm, the song softly aches with heart pulled emotion, as the music swells and guitar dripped chords rise into a tender solo before fading to the end on the loops it began with.
Effects of cold winds and dark clouds blow ice like through the introduction to the title and penultimate track, Fimbulvinter, before thudding percussion, bass and a dulled trudging guitar riff stomp all over the forest of this track, lead guitar swooping like a jet black corvid through broken branches of a torn mind, on the gusts. Swooping and dipping, tearing us away from the forlorn beauty of the previous track and leading us into an uncertain dark place. Synth like sounds impress the efficacy of the mood as the inky fretted crow rises above the foliage and treeline, to drift away across the bleak landscape, leaving a chill in the air.
Melancholic piano is joined by lightly strummed acoustic over which muffled lead guitar cries, on the final track of the album. Now, there is a mystery which should be resolved, though it could just be a case of lost in translation. In the press pack this is called ‘Fear of Abandoned’, on the track list submitted with the files it is called ‘Abandoned’, but Bandcamp also have it listed as Fear of Abandonment. Whatever the correct title*, it matters little as it doesn’t affect the resigned lament and loss felt here in Bjørn’s tortured vocals on this haunting melody, brought to a close with a wrenching trademark guitar solo from Bjørn, that dissipates slowly, like raindrops in a puddle, until all is still.
There will always be the Pink Floyd comparisons but evocatively underlined with Bjørn’s beautiful, distinctive style. This album also features some of his heaviest work to date, showing the diversity of his skill-set, emotional and beguiling. It is a testament to the man that he has the courage to face his fears and lay them before us to recognise and discuss whilst enveloped in some wonderfully created tunes. Another triumph.
TRACK LISTING
01. Illhug (1:43)
02. Gone (8:34)
03. Panic Attack (10:56)
04. She (6:33)
05. Fimbulvinter (8:59)
06. Fear Of Abandonment (7:36)
Total Time – 44:24
MUSICIANS
Bjørn Riis – Vocals, Guitar, Bass, Keyboards
~ With:
Henrik Bergan Fossum – Drums
Arild Brøter – Drums
Kai Christoffersen – Drums
ADDITIONAL INFO
Record Label: Karisma Records
Country of Origin: Norway
Date of Release: 11th April 2025
LINKS
Bjørn Riis – Website | Facebook | Bandcamp | YouTube | Instagram
