Elsa Nilsson and Martin Fabricius: Glaciers

Two pathbreaking musicians who are bringing new dimensions to their instruments, flutist Elsa Nilsson and vibraphonist Martin Fabricius, explore uncharted terrain on Glaciers, their first recorded encounter together. It is a freely-improvised date, with lots of room for mutual creativity, and the patient, careful reflection which characterizes these thirteen pieces makes for a stirring, thought- provoking listening experience.

Nilsson has earned accolades for her work with the Esthesis Quartet, most recently on Sound and Fury (Sunnyside, 2025), but also for her various solo projects, many of which are devoted to exploring aspects of the natural world. Her Atlas of Sound series documents her musical speculations on the Northern California Coast Redwoods (ears&eyes Records, 2022) and the Quila Quina (eyes&ears Records, 2024) explores the landscape of Argentina. Fabricius clearly shares her fascination with nature, as seen most recently on his duo release with vocalist Randi Pontopiddan, Clouds (Zack's Music, 2024). Both artists thus have a finely-tuned sensitivity to those gestures, large and small, which can help us approach the beauty and immensity of their arctic subject matter on Glaciers.

The album encompasses a wide range of textures and temperaments, from the mysterious density of the title track, a piece in which Nilsson's searching ruminations float over Fabricius' delicate atmospheric substructure, to "Rage Monkey," a suitably playful excursion that channels the duo's whimsical side. There is plenty of space on the recording as well, as these musicians are supremely confident of their ability to say a great deal without flooding the soundscape with notes. "Breathing In" is a case in point, as Fabricius' subtle shimmerings provide an elusive background for Nilsson's measured, languid ruminations. And the gorgeous "Loris" shines with a lambent lyricism.

As both Fabricius and Nilsson are quite comfortable augmenting their music with electronics, they find many opportunities to do that here, as on "Weight," in which Nilsson's heavily-processed flute provides an abrasive counterpoint to Fabricius' dancing patterns, or the facetiously- titled "Disco Kitten," in which Nilsson's instrument takes on a spacey aspect, while Fabricius uses plenty of electronically modulated sounds of his own to create an otherworldly jaunt. The added effects never seem gimmicky or gratuitous; they have an organic quality that allows them to enhance rather than overpower the pair's interactions.

What is most striking about the recording is that these musicians seem so instinctively attuned to each other's moves and impulses. Despite having never played together previously, they have an undeniable rapport that reveals itself marvelously on these intimate interactions. One hopes this is the beginning of many future collaborations.