cutest girl

Hafdís Huld

Hafdís Huld

It likely does not come as a surprise that I kind of like (adore) Hafdís Huld a little (a lot). I was quite enamoured with Dirty Paper Cup and though I didn’t write up Synchronized Swimmers, I also enjoyed it immensely. Here’s the thing though, reader: this album is particularly wonderful. I’ve listened to it repeatedly, excessively, even for me, even for me and a Hafdís Huld album.

I think I’m in love.

Home is the name of this outing and I can’t imagine a more perfect title for the album. It’s a simple but elegant combination of literalism (most of the songs seeming to be in some part inspired by her actual home in Iceland), figurativeness (the abstract concept of the people and places and sights and sounds that lend their familiarity to the broad definition of home) and emotion (the relaxing comfort and intangible safety that are indelibly bonded to being wherever or whatever home is). The lyrics are still singularly Hafdís Huld, a seeming combination of excerpts from her diary and conversations you might have with her over a coffee, but the sound, while familiar, is especially smooth, soothing even. The power this album has to silence the lesser demons that erode calm and extort unrest is nigh on medicinal for me and that is a rare gift indeed.

Here are two. There are more than two and you should really listen to all of them.


PS: You should really roll back in her Twitter feed/site news and check out all the amazing photos from her recent tour of Iceland. A combination of Hafdís’ travelogue and The Secret Life of Walter Mitty has instilled in me a deep and pressing desire to travel to Iceland. I’m not even really a “wonders of nature” traveler, I’m much more likely to aim at urban and historical interests, but the things I have seen of Iceland from just these two sources demand attention.

PPS: She’s done some covers recently on the YouTubes and I’m all for that: Creep

Where to find Hafdís Huld:
Twitter: @HafdisHuld

Hafdís Huld

Hafdís Huld

Perhaps the cutest girl to ever sing a love song and without a doubt the cutest SOUNDING girl to ever sing a love song, Hafdís Huld single-handedly restored my personal opinion of Iceland*. With simple arrangements and a voice that challenges buttons to a cute-off, Hafdís teeters on the edge of sugary-sweet, mixing stark-if-confounding lyrics and twee-pop melodies into delicious musical confections that sound surprisingly like hard candy tastes. Even at her most melancholy on Dirty Paper Cup, it still goes down like a Mary Poppins prescription.

Dirty Paper Cup is an album that’s hard to adequately represent in two tracks, but as is my sacred tradition, I will now attempt it. This is something like a triple salchow in difficulty, I expect to be rewarded for the attempt. I’m looking at you, East German Judge. If this cover of “Who Loves the Sun” doesn’t sell you then you cannot be sold.

My Heart Beats
Who Loves the Sun

And as a special treat, from me to you: Elf Watching with Hafdís Huld

* “What does that even mean, what did Iceland ever do to you?” you might be thinking. Well, I’m glad you asked. Prior to Hafdís Huld, I had decided that Iceland was some sort of quasi-reality where music didn’t sound like music thanks entirely to the efforts of the puzzlingly-world-famous and seemingly-never-diminishing Bjork, who is likely squeaking and a-tonally working her way to another Grammy nomination even now, continuing to defy convention in the most dissonant and sonically-displeasing ways imaginable. Bjork, if you’re reading this right now, man do I just not get your music at all. Not even a little. I think this may be applicable.