There is a sound in my head. It’s not a sound I can adequately describe; I can only sense fragments of feeling it should instill in me. At night I lie awake, thinking of this sound that can quiet the raging waters, erode the ragged edges of the rocks into something smooth, reflective. I hardly ever find it, and then out of nowhere Bjørn Riis falls into my ears and I hear in the lush chords and low pulse of his latest album Fimbulvinter and it falls into place. An album of cold winds, melancholy, and the anxiety of spotting flickers of hope in the dimness, it’s found a space in the sputtering connections of my brain, giving form to that nameless, undefinable sound.

It shouldn’t be a surprise to me. I came to know Airbag, Riis’s primary band a few years ago with their excellent 2020 album A Day at the Beach, and last year’s equally outstanding The Century of the Self was covered here. The sonic touchstones of Pink Floyd, Porcupine Tree and Anathema present in Airbag’s releases can be heard throughout Fimbulvinter, which makes sense when you consider Riis is the primary songwriter for the band. But his solo work often emphasizes other, more subtle influences. Even at eight minutes, a song like “Gone” can take and embrace shades of 80s rock in its second half, breathing life into its extended song structure, whereas the beautiful, wistful “She” lays on the ambient pads and layers, weaving a light tapestry on which Riis rest some of my most lovely vocals, harmonizing gently on top of his voice in a way I thought was a duet. It’s a gorgeous song, and paired with the more rock-oriented “Gone” shoes the full range of what to expect throughout the album.

Sandwiched in between those tracks is perhaps the centerpiece of the album. “Panic Attack” is 11 minutes of Riis utterly nailing the hopelessness and anxiety that wracks my body with increasing frequency. Opening with a call to “Don’t be late / call me when you’re on your way” get to the heart of trying to control everything just to cling to something sure. It hits hard, and when the dynamics and power chords set in to emphasize the pounding of his heart you get this crushing weight despite the song not being remotely heavy from a traditional view. I’ve never been one for deep lyrical introspection, but I completely connected here, feeling the narrative of obsessing over every moment waiting for someone to arrive: did they hit a roadblock? Is the weather making it take longer? Riis knows exactly how to express that both vocally and with his guitar – whether he’s accentuating the vibe with acoustic licks and lines or crunching with distortion it builds this sensory experience that’s never not aligned to his emotional conceit.

It’s not morose and melancholic rumination, though. The title track truly rocks, giving off maybe the biggest Pink Floyd vibes, but with a girt and rock edge Gilmour never really dared. There are even not-so-subtle allusions to Black Sabbath’s debut and eponymous song that took me out of the doldrums and had me rocking my head in appreciation. And with closing track “Fear of Abandonment” Riis goes full Anathema, albeit with an appreciable rock guitar approach the Cavanagh brothers largely eschewed, particularly on the band’s later releases. The closing solo in particular is beautifully melodic and composed, reaching lofty heights before falling gently back to earth.

There are moments throughout Fimbulvinter where you can see how these songs would fit into Airbag’s overarching catalog. But I think Bjørn Riis is tackling very specific things in his solo output, and the way Fimbulvinter rises and falls in the rhythmic breaths of his (and, apparently, mine) anxiety is captivating, giving his voice a chance to really lock in with the music and create something truly captivating. I’ve found myself repeatedly going back to it, sometimes focusing on the incredible guitar work, sometimes on Riis’s vocals. And sometimes I just let it drift over me, pulling and exposing my own unrest and allowing me to – even briefly – let it go.

“I don’t want anyone to see me” – taken from the track “Panic Attack“

— Chris

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Fimbulvinter will be available April 11 from Karisma Records. For more information on Bjørn Riis, check out his website and social media pages.