Few bands have so impressively eschewed the genrefication of contemporary artists, whilst maintaining a loyal fanbase, as Ulver. A genuine creative force, no two albums sound the same (although a certain lineage can often be traced), and the band exist outside any classification one could choose to hurl in their direction. The band’s recent output has been spectacularly diverse, with last year’s ‘Riverhead’ soundtrack bearing some of the band’s most evocative, yet ambient material. As such, ‘the assassination of Julius Caesar’ can almost be seen as a reaction to that album, with just eight, concise tracks, only three of which edge over the five-minute mark. A self-confessed pop album, it’s superficially superficial, sonically gorgeous and typically literate, the mercurial band once again demonstrating their absolute disregard for convention.
Possibly my favourite track of the year, let alone the album, ‘Nemoralia’ is a ridiculously potent earworm, its melody wedging itself in the cranium for days on end and the production absolutely flawless. Youth (the Orb, Killing Joke, Pink Floyd), working alongside Michael Rendall, brings a remarkable sheen to the layers of electronica that flit through the mix, whilst Ulver concentrate all their expertise on building a perfectly nuanced piece of music that bridges the gap between the pop melodicism of bands such as Tears for Fears and Frankie Goes to Hollywood (covered on the recent EP) and the hazy ambient of The Orb and Leftfield. It is compelling and strangely beautiful, whilst the subject matter (conflating ancient Rome with Princess Diana’s iconic death) is typically oblique. Perhaps more in keeping with what one might expect of Ulver, ‘Rolling Stone’ is one of only two tracks (the other being ‘coming home’) that edge close to the masterpiece, ‘Perdition City’, with the gleaming stomp and carefully interwoven harmonies of its first half giving way to a white-hot jazz freak-out that threatens to fry the nerve endings. Stian Westerhaus (currently on tour with the band as both support and guitarist), adds twisted layers of guitar here, although they’re so carefully woven into the fabric of the piece, you’d be hard pressed to pick them out with any certainty. Another highlight, ‘so falls the world’ is an initially-poignant piece of music with a melody to die for, which suddenly yanks the rug out from under its listener’s feet as it mutates into a pulsing dance number that would not sound out of place on an Underworld album. The track segues directly into ‘Southern Gothic’, a track that has more in common with early Depeche Mode than anything discernibly rock. With its backwards-phased vocals and echoing synths, it’s a strangely effecting piece of music, and it says much of the band’s ability that it sounds like they’ve been crafting such music all their lives.
A hazy, mostly ambient piece, ‘Angelus Novus’ is a cinematic masterwork, the echoing electronica drifting dreamily through the ether as strings swoop and percussion becomes stretched and distended in the face of Kristoffer’s astounding vocal performance. Perhaps the album’s biggest surprise, ‘Transverberation’ recalls nothing so much as Toro Y moi’s ‘causers of this’ with its blissed-out sounds and carefully layered rhythms. A short piece with a cinematic vibe, ‘1969’ feels, in many ways, like the album’s natural conclusion. Thirty years ago, this might have found a place amidst fans of Aha or Tears for fears, although the Manson-via-the-beatles-infused lyrics and huge, droning swells of guitar would undoubtedly send the pop fans of the day running for cover. It is left, however, to the lengthy ‘coming home’ to draw things to a close, the band blending the hypnotic trance of Underworld with Miles Davis and Trent Reznor, neatly employing the Swans’ trick of repeat-and-augment, slowly building the track (and the album) to a monumental climax via huge synth stabs and jazz-infused saxophone.
Ulver have taken their audience through many twists and turns over the course of their career, and every one of them has been a worthy diversion. The nature of art is in its infinite variety and Ulver are not content to allow stale preconceptions to balk them as they follow their muse. Often as catchy as hell, ferociously literate and curiously forward-looking, for all its nods to the past, ‘the assassination of Julius Caesar’ is yet another masterwork from a band who continue to challenge the boundaries of modern music. 9
