A hushed excitement surrounds Bristol Beacon for Wardruna’s first visit to the city. By the time Jo Quail takes to the stage the venue is practically full, the majority of attendees arriving early given the calibre of the support. ‘Rex Infractus’ is met by a reverent silence and opens with broad bow strokes, Quail’s cello creating loops that bathe the audience in waves of sound.
It’s hard to avoid visual analogies when describing Quail’s music. New song ‘Embrace’ sounds like paint is being smeared on a canvas. ‘Adder Stone’ closes the set, an eerie and potent piece of sonic spell-craft. The only complaint is Quail’s set is so short.
Although there’s something visually stunning about Wardruna, the band don’t really put on a show. Unlike fellow folk experimentalists Heilung, whose gigs involve enacted ritual, Wardruna’s stage presentation is relatively simple. Some obligatory foliage, dramatic lighting, and not much more. Save some dancing by Lindy-Fay Hella, this is all about the music.
From the moment opening cyclic bars of John Stenersen’s moraharpa power ‘Kvitravn’ into life, Wardruna’s ritual intent is perfectly expressed. The band create heavy dirges, as rich in melody as they are oft sombre in mood, with Einar “Kvitrafn” Selvik singing with fervour, imbuing a passionate quality to the vocals.
The band’s latest album Birna is well represented. ‘Himinndotter’ typifies the latest album’s tendency to put the song front and centre; ‘Hertan’ is perhaps the group’s darkest effort to date. There’s also plenty of tracks taken from the Runaljod trilogy, including a stirring ‘Helvegen’ to conclude the main set. Before closing with a solo rendition of ‘Hibjørnen’, Selvik makes a loving call for us all to sing more, and is warmly received by the crowd.
Eilif Gundersen and Einar Selvik play long horns at the height of Wardruna’s transformative performance.
Throughout the evening’s musical programme, the crowd collectively say as little as the band do. Establishing a firm rapport through their performance, each number is met with cheering and applause. At their best, as tonight, Wardruna gigs are far more than a concert – they’re a celebration of nature imagined and remembered; a rendition of an urgent body of work that shows us, through the power of song, another way.
