Album Review.. Iris Silver Mist – Jenny Hval

The life of an artist is one characterised by pursuit of meaning. That which is imbued through their own art, that which their audience perceives… or does not. At what point does one’s art become futile? When does the artist cease? Such vivid and philosophical conflicts weave the fabric of Iris Silver Mist, Norwegian songwriter and novelist Jenny Hval’s 9th record. Hval, constantly innovating throughout her multi-decade solo career, offers up perhaps her most complete and cohesive work yet. The dream-like, multi-sensory canvas painted throughout 13 tracks is one of 2025’s most musing and thoughtful releases thus far. 

Grounding listeners through warm and organic synth soundscapes, Lay down leans into Hval’s more folky and singer-songwriter influences. Memorable in hook and concerning memory in lyrical subject, the track inspires an unlatching from modern sensory pressures and pleasures, urging listeners to lay “Down in the deep where your love comes from”, seperate from the world but connected with oneself. Towards the end, the first of several spoken word passages throughout the record is introduced, as if a retrospective addition to a journal, emphasising the record’s interplay between artistic mediums as well as Hval’s artistic vulnerability and honesty. 

As sounds of birds chirping and wind slowly sifting through the air fade to see out Lay down, To be a rose replaces these natural tones with an electronic drum groove and cat-like screeches. Her delivery robotic and almost monotone, Hval evokes nasal senses through imagery of roses, cigarettes and smoke. Utilising the emotive connotative qualities of these symbols to transport listeners to moments of her past, Hval’s haunted musing of her relationship with her mother and how she’s held back from her flourishing self. Through delivering such cerebration with an equally subtle and contemplative electronic-folk fusion while maintaining strength in structure and accessibility, To be a rose is a stand out track here. 

I want to start at the beginning functions as an aside, another journal entry of sorts, where Hval seems to compare her humanity to that of a burger, “Juicy, warm, voluptuous… I used to be that”. This bizarre conceptualisation appeals again to listener’s sensory experience and, paired with the ambient landscape behind it, possesses a dream-like absurdity. Starkly switching, All night long adopts a more plodding, groove based structure with a continuous and reverberated acoustic drum beat spinning like a figure in a music box. The track conjures pandemic memories circa 2020, referencing universal feelings of detachment from one’s self, placed squarely in a modern technological world, “The recording software asks, “This note or that?””. A sense of falling is evoked throughout the middle section of the song, supported by the suspension of rhythmic timbre in favour of a vulnerable, chirping Hval, before the drums return to round out the 6 minute run time, reinforcing the track’s cyclical quality.

Continuing, Heiner Muller is another interlude track, brief and with little sound but the crackle of an old record, where Hval acknowledges her artistic influences and the subordination she feels in their shadow. This leads into the repetitive groove and choral synths of You died, where Hval recalls a near death experience of an animal, calling into question her own callused humanity, “We are resin”, and its ubiquity. An emotionally charged and, again, sensory cut, You died leans strongly into the ethereal but somewhat at the expense of structure and memorability, a relatively nondescript moment at the record’s centre. 

Spirit mist is another patient and atmospheric cut, influence drawn from early electronica with arpeggiated synths accelerating on and on as if falling through an endless spiral staircase. A transitory moment, leading us seamlessly into I don’t know what free is and the latter half of the record. The aforementioned track is a holistic exploration of themes throughout the album, incorporating familiar sensory motifs “Exhale me with your cigarette smoke”, the concept of life as a stage to perform on, “”What is a performance?”…”What is it to write?””, and the dissolution of humanity through technology, “Sign me out, out of the digital world”. It’s a moment where listeners may begin to interpret these themes not as isolated, but as intrinsically linked and interwoven, contributing to a broader concept. Musically, the track reinforces this interconnectedness, incorporating a sizzling electronic atmosphere with clear and organic latin inspired grooves beneath Hval’s signature tuneful but unconventional vocal performance. Simultaneously, I don’t know what free is manages to build and develop throughout its run time as grooves strengthen and tempo increases, enhancing its epiphanic quality.

Taking an auditory 180, The artist is absent is the record’s most heavy and industrial track. Brief but impactful, it confronts the audience with a death of the artist more singular than ethereal, communicated through its sludgy and distorted tones. As the track crashes out, Huffing my arm juxtaposes itself through cautious whispers and cavernous synthesisers acting as a sort of purgatory between life and death. To round out this trifecta of tracks painting the artist’s death, The gift acts as the aftermath, detailing “…the room, after the show” as not a space of absentia, but of clarity and calmness. A sort of transcendence of the artist through and beyond life, reinforced by a more uplifting chord loop and vocal wails, which feels conceptually conclusive. 

Entering the final leg of the record, A ballad returns to the more pop-centric song structure of earlier tracks like To be a rose and Lay down, with ear-pleasing, bubbly electronic lines and a wavy sound bed. In terms of its placement at the end of the record, A ballad speaks retrospectively, exploring the motif of the stage as life but also afterlife, “I don’t know why I’m up here… I mean, on stage”. The artist figure now is positioned as deity, having died and thus transcended humanity, summarising the album’s conceptual story and themes of transience, memory and humanity. More broadly, the concept speaks to the artist and their role within our modern world as a resistance to the cold, emotionless influence of technology but also to their martyr status, acknowledging the sacrifice and vulnerability required to fulfil such a duty. I want the end to sound like this abandons any lyrical content, de-personalising Hval as the artistic subject in question and completely absorbing listeners through pure and blissful sound. Hval pulls out all the stops here sonically, incorporating complex, deep layering of synths and organic tones purposefully outshining any of the record’s previous ambient moments. Perhaps at the expense of singular listenability of some previous tracks, the closer here is musically divine and purely beautiful. The sound of entering the gates of heaven.

Jenny Hval crafted here, with Iris Silver Mist, a beautifully complex and unique concept album which unfolds steadily and with exceptional clarity. Themes develop and absorb into the active listener’s psyche through precise and brilliant utilisation of emotionally connotative, multi-sensory allusions to our humanity. Such cerebral and poignant explorations of not only our broader humanity but the specific role of artists within our modern world are rare and invaluable. While I will acknowledge that moments on the record feel perhaps stretched longer than necessary and may cause listeners to momentarily lose interest, others are brilliantly accessible and engaging so not to ostracise audiences. Cumulatively, Iris Silver Mist is undoubtedly impressive, thought provoking and sonically divine; a must listen to in May 2025’s crop of works.

87/100

Alex Collins