Spectreview: Ánnámáret – Nieguid duovdagat [Dreamscapes]

Released: February 5, 2021

Joik
(Electronic)
(Ambient)
(Traditional Folk)

-LIGHT CORAL-

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Joik (pronounced with a soft “j”) is a form of singing native to the Sámi people indigenous to the Sampi region of Finland. It blends the Sámi language with vocal utterances to produce a sort of reverent evocation, like painting but with voice.

Given that the Sámi language and the Sapmi people comprise a significant but small percentage of Finland’s population, joik remains relatively unknown outside of Northern Europe. In America, you’d only come across music like this by chance, maybe on a public radio or in an adventurous Pandora session.

That could potentially change with works like Nieguid duovdagat, the third album from Sámi musician Ánnámáret Näkkäläjärvi-Länsman (and her first as a trio with Finnish bow lyrist Ilkka Heinonen and shakuhachi flautist Marja Viitahuhta). Over the last decade, Ánnámáret has emerged as a distinct voice in the Sámi community thanks to her modern update of the traditional joik style, where electronics swim around her ensemble’s folk instruments and collect around the titanic spirit of her voice.

What gives Nieguid duovdagat its potential outside appeal is the success to which the instrumentation augments the evocativeness of her joiking and vice-versa, producing songs that are not only greater than the sums of their parts but don’t require an understanding of the Sámi language to appreciate. Gorgeous opener “Sirrda” [trans:  “Transition”] is a perfect example of this: as Ánnámáret’s vocals swirls in both ears like icy zephyrs, parts and frequencies enter piecemeal, from Heinonen’s affecting strings to the gentle manipulation of her voice. From the start, the trio aims to create a space that exists in a tenuous space both temporally and within the consciousness, pulling from Sámi mythology in tracks like the otherwordly “Nuppi bealde” and the turbulent “Dološ niegut” to supplement her sublime illustrations.

Crucially, Viitahuhta’s electronics don’t overtake the raw power of Ánnámáret’s joiking, instead operating peripherally and/or underneath the acoustic instruments. On “Buolvvas bulvii,” delicate sustained synths support Heinonen’s crisply plucked jouhikko, while percussive clicks dictate the momentum of “Jearrat máttaráhkus.” Elsewhere it’s merely the presence of modern production tricks that deepen the topography, whether its the spaciousness of the vocal reverb or the delay on the strings. Even considering its many measured panoramas, the record isn’t just ambient; the shakuhachi-adorned “Aski” takes the form of a galloping folk number, while the climactic and rousing “Johtit ain” bears a straightforwardness that could be construed as pop.

The beauty of a record like Nieguid duovdagat is how it casts a tradition like joik in a decisively current context. There are moments here that stand up to our own well-known ambient and folktronica acts, and yet Ánnámáret’s monolithic presence keeps them distinctive. Through it, I see real potential for her to earn a sizable audience thousands of miles away from her homeland, exposing people the world over to the unique vibrancy of joik and Sámi culture.

Recommended for the receding taiga.