By Tom Frankland
You’d be hard pressed to find a song lyric of such vinegar on an opening track titled ‘like lovers do’. But that, is in, essence the dichotomies of Elias Ronnenfelt. As the lead singer and songwriter of the Danish punk band Iceage. His palette can be hard to knock down. Early incarnations of the band lurched from the doomed nihilism of hardcore of You are nothing, before ruthlessly evolving into debauched orchestral punk of I am the Lords favourite one!. His output has been a pronounced dichotomy in his scope and ranges. Now he returns to us with his first solo album Heavy Glory.
“Headed to the bottom of the lake what a drag. / Like eleven little kitties and a stone in a bag”
For a man who describes his leading producer as “sparring partners” his songs as s “skeletons” that are composed in the crucible of ‘100 things at the same time’. The album shines brightest with its lushes and most composed conjugates. The first track ‘Like Lovers do’ and the cyclical ending track ‘No place to Fall’ are exercises in complete melodic control, combing gentle orchestral flushes with a calm subdued guitar backing, both of which compliment Elias falsetto range. It is amongst the most beautiful and enticing music he has germinated over his career. For an artist often defined from his early pallid complexion and jagged roar, it is a pronounced achievement when we hear “ so darling wont you rest your pretty head for a while, Have a sworn break from rancid and vile” on the opener. It has never been easier to follow where Ronnenfelt wants us.
As a recently published poet with Mexican summer, Ronnenfelt is given ground to flex his literary muscles on the vast wrapping stories of the album. The track ‘Stalker’ reads as a southern Gothic story that listeners cannot ignore, despite the invariably tragic patheticism of it. Stand out track ‘No one else’ is evidence of this combining simple peans of unrequited love, in lyrics like “ her kiss is truly sweet like no one else”. Ronnenfelt even flirts with highbrow assertions of moral attainment in lines like “Trust is a gift retracted if the beneficiary don’t take custody”, making for a tantalising mix.
However, the same thing that elevates the album’s highest moments can also be read as its inadvertent achilles heel. Occasionally these euphonies fall into the maudlin or the excessive. Lines such as “Storming out of a cloud of X, K and Cocaine” read as archaic and glib on ‘like lovers do’ and “stir-fried in an over well, pumped up from the dunes” on ‘unarmed’ convey a hyperbolic exoticism that doesn’t fit with the album’s narrative.
Occasionally the music of the album is not enough to support the weight and gravitas of Ronnenfelt’s lyrics. ‘Worm Grew a spine’ collapses under the barrage of aphorism and metaphors as its clunky synth and vocals cannot compensate the stream-of-consciousness delivery. Additionally, the guitar of the album in its gentle melodics can sometimes grate and wash over you after 12 tracks. Tracks such as ‘Unarmed’ particularly musically falter here. However, Ronnenfelt frequently steers the ship back on course after such interruptions. It is a pleasure to see his quixotic lyricism match with lush improvisations, giving him all the time he needs to plant his feet back on the ground and climb back on the soap box.
It is these dichotomies that captivate the audiences. The dichotomies of Ronnenfelt’s lived experiences are world-weary, from the braggadocios exuberance to the disarming gall, making for a compelling album. Much like the rich, amorphic but grotesque clay effigy that adorns the album’s cover, these silhouettes are within touch for all.
