Almost as if by accident, Victoria Bergsman's aching voice has become one of the most widely known in indie pop. As primary singer and songwriter for Swedish pop outfit the Concretes until last summer, Bergsman featured on at least one remarkable album, 2004's The Concretes. But it was a Target commercial that seared the Ronettes-via-Velvets swoon of the Concretes' "Say Something New" onto TV viewers' consciousnesses. By now, the songstress might be best recognized for her guest appearance on Peter Bjorn & John's world-conquering 2006 single "Young Folks".
Bergsman's debut under the solo moniker Taken By Trees is her most consistently winning full-length since the Concretes peaked. But if Open Field leads to any similar mainstream flings, they'll still feel like fortunate flukes. Co-produced with PB&J's Björn Yttling, the album exists in its own ecstatically melancholy pre-dawn realm, at once less crowded and more lushly imagined than Bergsman's previous outings. It's personal, introspective folk-pop with the instrumental palette of a girl-group teenage symphony-- zithers, euphoniums, mandolins, and harmoniums along with flutes and a string section. Think Pink Moon on a "Be My Baby" scale.
For all the richness of the orchestration, the songs at any given moment tend to be mostly spare, offbeat, and repetitive, the intermittent violin and cello crests merely making more space for Bergsman's lonely yearning. One-finger piano plonks bring the singer closer to a distant, kindred spirit on "Julia" ("We rarely speak, but I do think of you a lot"). A child could also play the piano part on sing-songy call-and-response "Hours Pass Like Centuries", but the contrast with PB&J's John Eriksson's majestic percussion helps convey the way love can "Leave you singing to the trees/ Then return so suddenly". An untreated acoustic guitar on marvelously sad opener "Tell Me" sounds like it could be in the room with us. "I don't have much trust in the April sun," Bergsman sighs, and turns the Swedish pronunciation of "July" into a bleak pun.
Crucially, the arrangements are never busy enough to overshadow Bergsman's unmistakable vocals. As cymbals swell and strings drone over "The Legend", there she is, cooing and crying and stretching her syllables in that distant, nearly Nico-like accent, describing a loveless woman who, as if she were a Gabriel García Márquez character, becomes transformed into water-- "Or maybe blood/ Without its red." Within the quiet longing of "Too Young", it can be overwhelming to notice the way Bergsman's voice quivers on the word "fear", or her pealing matter-of-factness on the phrase, "It was not for me." A delicate piano passage grows out of the sadness like May flowers.
Open Field's many subtleties mean it can't be enjoyed just anytime; it practically demands solitude. The tracks work as mood pieces as well as songs, and the mood is so consistent that it takes time for the craft of each composition to peer through, a silver lining on a gray morning. The best place to start is probably the only song not written or co-written by Bergsman: The album's first video selection, "Lost and Found". With some of the most constantly full production here, it's a lilting chamber-pop gem worthy of its composer, Camera Obscura's Tracyanne Campbell. Then again, another highlight is Yttling's matter-of-factly named "Instrumental"-- an orchestral reminder that, as lovely as Bergsman's voice is, it's only one of several reasons to adore her newest project.
