Some albums are designed to entertain; others are designed to transport. With Helt, British experimental ensemble Fjall accomplishes the latter, crafting a vast sonic landscape that feels less like a conventional live recording and more like an expedition into unexplored territory. Guided by improvisation, field recordings, acoustic instrumentation, and electronic manipulation, Fjall invite listeners into a world where nature, abstraction, and imagination coexist. The result is both challenging and rewarding, a work that blurs the boundaries between composition, performance, and environmental sound.
Led by British multi-instrumentalists Martin Archer and Jan Todd, Fjall have built a reputation for creating immersive soundscapes that encourage open-ended interpretation. Released on the Discus label, Helt documents two live performances: one recorded on April 27, 2024, at Sidney & Matilda in Sheffield, and the other on December 7, 2023, at the Samuel Worth Chapel. Together, these recordings capture the ensemble at its most expansive and adventurous.
Following their 2023 debut, From the Rough Hill, Archer and Todd, alongside Fran Cornyn and Richard Jackson, present nearly two hours and thirty-eight minutes of exploratory music that unfolds with remarkable patience and purpose. The quartet’s approach recalls the pioneering spirit of early ECM recordings and the cosmic explorations of the Kosmische Musik movement. Throughout the performances, one can hear distant echoes of Peter Maxwell Davies, Karlheinz Stockhausen, John Cage, Edgard Varèse, and Arnold Schoenberg, yet Fjall never sound derivative. Instead, they absorb these influences and reshape them into something uniquely their own.
The music is built upon layers of dripping-water effects, expansive drones, unsettling textures, and carefully constructed sonic environments. These elements evolve gradually, revealing new details with each passing minute. Across four extended pieces running 35, 36, 41, and 43 minutes, the ensemble develops a sense of narrative without relying on traditional structure. Electronic glitches, ritualistic percussion, and shifting instrumental colors emerge and disappear like fragments of a dream.
At times, the music evokes the awakening of an ancient force. Deep drones rumble beneath the surface while shimmering textures hover overhead, creating an atmosphere that is both majestic and ominous. Fjall excel at balancing beauty and unease, allowing moments of serenity to coexist with passages of tension and mystery.
There are also traces of György Ligeti’s spectral imagination woven into the fabric of these performances, particularly when combined with Berlin School-inspired electronics and distorted synthesiser textures. The effect often resembles the soundtrack to an unwritten film—something Stanley Kubrick might have embraced. One can easily imagine these sounds inhabiting the cosmic vastness of 2001: A Space Odyssey, the psychological unease of A Clockwork Orange, or the haunting isolation of The Shining. This cinematic quality has always been central to Fjall’s vision. Their music creates an imaginary film within the listener’s mind, where every sound becomes a scene and every drone suggests a new landscape waiting to be explored.
The album can be demanding in places, but its challenges are precisely what make it compelling. Fjall’s meticulous attention to detail recalls the adventurous spirit of PAKT, Percy Jones, Alex Skolnick, Kenny Grohowski, and Tim Motzer, in the way they merge improvisation and electronics into a constantly evolving framework. There are also subtle nods to Pink Floyd’s experimental Ummagumma period, particularly in the group’s willingness to embrace risk, atmosphere, and spatial sound.
One especially memorable passage appears to feature tabla-like percussion emerging from a cavernous drone, adding texture and depth to an already immersive environment. The effect is like standing inside a crystal-lined cave and witnessing a natural wonder unfold before your eyes. Moments such as these demonstrate Fjall’s ability to transform abstract sound into vivid imagery.
What makes Helt so fascinating is its refusal to offer easy answers. This is not music designed for passive listening. It asks for patience, curiosity, and complete immersion. The rewards, however, are substantial. Each return visit reveals new details hidden beneath its surface, whether in the subtle interactions between the musicians, the carefully layered textures, or the gradual evolution of its sprawling soundscapes.
In an era increasingly dominated by immediacy and instant gratification, Helt stands as a reminder of the power of deep listening. It is an album that invites exploration rather than consumption, rewarding those willing to lose themselves within its vast and mysterious world. Fjall have created more than a live document, they have crafted an experience, one that transforms sound into landscape, imagination into reality, and listening into a journey that lingers long after the final note has faded.
