The coldest moment of Nora Shikoswe Hougsnæs’ debut album Back in the Tall Grass illuminates a breakup in pale blue light. When face-to-face closure doesn’t satisfy her, she sifts through her ex-partner’s online profile, scavenging for connection. A ghostly organ accompanies her on “Two Heads in a Room” as she succinctly captures the moment: “There’s a war between my tenderness for you and the fact that I don’t love you anymore.” She’s sad, not because of the breakup, but because she’s seeking comfort in virtual stalking. Her matter-of-factness drills in the brutality.
As Shikoswe, Hougsnæs brews frothy dream-pop that tucks epiphanies in striking vignettes. The 25-year-old Norwegian musician has been releasing whimsical, surreal music for three years now; 2016’s The Hour of the Body EP indulged morbid curiosity and drew inspiration from René Magritte. On Back in the Tall Grass, she trades her more eccentric interests for an equally uncomfortable exploration of heartbreak. Her prickly vocals are smoothed over and veiled in echo, without the breathtaking intimacy of “This Here,” or the playfulness of “Marie.” Instead, Back in the Tall Grass is haunting and sedate. At her best, Shikoswe elevates her pensiveness into a cosmic, existential query.
With just over a dozen tracks to her name, Shikoswe is already a chameleonic vocal force whose high, clear tone resembles Annie Clark or Kate Bush. Back in the Tall Grass strips away the raw piano and nature sounds of her earlier work, using shadowy, serpentine melodies and shoegaze guitars to cushion the blows of lost romance. Balmy synths and angelic vocals wash over these songs like swirling auras; the echoey reverb and seductive, Cocteau Twins-esque dream-pop produces a warm, psychedelic glow reminiscent of Tame Impala. Withdrawn in the mesh of hazy effects, her voice at times sounds apathetic or consumed by memory. On the title track, she drags herself alongside a weepy keyboard melody, singing, “I was so sure you were gonna let me go for a moment.” A melancholic vortex of synths enshrouds her as she hovers like a phantom, unwilling to accept that it’s over.
Shikoswe doesn’t reveal where her relationship went wrong, or what could have salvaged it. Instead, the album is a mirage of melancholy and grief. Sometimes her understanding of love feels aloof: On “From the Start,” she compares her relationship to flunking out of school. It’s a strange comparison—connecting with another person shouldn’t feel like passing a test. But maybe this is shame and self-indifference rising to the surface. Though she takes all the blame, at times she seems strikingly detached.
Sometimes the magnetic haze surrounding Shikoswe’s music overwhelms her writing and prevents the emotional strife from resonating. The hypnotic current of “Good Intentions” overshadows the significance of the lyrics, and the aching ruminations about death on “Some Days” feel awkward amid choir-like synths. Still, Back in the Tall Grass is a reminder that breakups breed both agony and personal understanding, and Shikoswe finds peace in the end. “Don’t weigh yourself down,” she sings on the closing “Swimming,” absolving herself of guilt by recognizing her own insignificance: “Take a minute and consider that/We are all so small.” At first it’s jarring, then it’s comforting.
