Sigurd Hole Trio: Encounters

Encounters unfolds as a single, patiently breathed arc rather than a sequence of events. From the outset, the trio situates itself firmly in the world, not observing it from a distance but moving within it, attentive to texture, ritual, and change. Sigurd Hole's compositional voice is quietly astonishing in this regard and finds life-giving partnership in violinist Hakon Aase (also playing kantele) and drummer Jarle Vespestad. He writes music that feels discovered rather than imposed, as though these forms were already present in the air and the trio has simply learned how to listen closely enough to draw them out.

The opening movement finds its tone in "Red Sky," though it would be misleading to call this merely an introduction. Its deep, earthen drumming and bowed bass feel like the establishment of a sacred perimeter, a circle drawn on the ground where anything that follows must be carried out in truth. The violin enters as a fellow witness, and what emerges is a sense of freedom that exists precisely because the space has been defined. This feeling carries directly into "Azzahra," where melodic lines take on desert hues and rhythm becomes a tailwind rather than a pulse to obey. Hole's percussive arco work turns the bass into both anchor and instigator, while Aase moves fluidly from one phrase to the next, following a road that keeps opening simply because he continues to walk it.

As the album deepens, it begins to trade outward motion for inward attention. "Sakura" arrives like a soft awakening from a long night, its tenderness so complete that it seems to hover just above silence. The violin's scraping timbre blurs into something airborne, while the bass supports without weighing the moment down. This sensitivity sets the stage for Aase's "Interlude," whose cinematic atmosphere shifts perspective, stepping back to see how far the path has already carried us.

From there, the trio resumes its journey with renewed breadth. "No Clouds" feels expansive and open, harmonics shimmering like heat above a landscape that alternates between arid and lush. Hole's grounding presence keeps the music tethered, Aase's lines sketching climatic patterns overhead, full of suggestion rather than declaration. Such openness gives way to the exquisite intimacy of "Dew Of Tears," where bowed strings speak in hushed tones and the kantele introduces a fragile, droplet-like shimmer. The effect is neither mournful nor consoling, yet deeply human in its restraint.

A philosophical center reveals itself in "Pilgrimage," a piece that gathers all these strands into a single, purposeful motion. Here, the idea of travel becomes explicit, not only across terrain but through moments of lived experience. Acceleration suggests the sudden urgency life can impose, but the trio navigates this rush with poise, treating each shift as something to be learned from rather than escaped. This sense of earned wisdom flows naturally into "Old Branches," whose evocative textures carry the weight of age. There is a lyrical generosity here, a feeling of continuity that honors what has grown slowly and endured.

"Road Song" closes the album by quietly reframing everything that came before. The bowed double-stops in the bass provide a firm foundation, allowing the violin to lift and roam, while percussion and bass interlock with unforced brilliance. In the end, we are left with a sensation rather than an argument, a suggestion that moving with care, curiosity, and attention can itself be a kind of music.

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