Hjaltalin

After a seven year absence Hjaltalín - arguably the most popular and respected band in Iceland of the century's first decade - return with what can only be described as a work of almighty proportions.

The songs on this, their fourth album have been on an epic journey over a considerable time, each one modelled and reshaped - through versions, arrangements and mixes - into a small piece of magnificence that can be likened to hewn, small sculptures, moulded gradually over the years. Each one is a small world in itself, rich in detail, yet complimenting each other beautifully like statues in a garden. Some sound like they've been around for ever; they are weathered - classic.

The album is a culmination of all that has come before. The grandeur and wide-eyed optimism of Terminal is present in a number of songs, the groovy gloom of Enter 4 is strong in others. It also contains some of Hjaltalín's poppiest moments. Where Terminal sometimes felt like a pop pastiche, the new record is consistently earnest throughout, notwithstanding carefree moments like 'Love from '99', the airy pizzicato chorus of 'Waterfall' and full blown lighters-in-the-air moments like 'Needles and Pins'. Yet the dark modular experiments closing out 'Stolen Star' or the opaque lyrics of 'Mad Lady of Lizard Skin' feel no less honest; they, too, are testaments to curious minds.