Stórsveit Nix Noltes - Royal Family: Divorce

The only possible harbinger of grumpiness could be if you find yourself writing their and their parent bands' names, as this will leave you endlessly inserting symbols or special characters (or replacing special characters with hex codes if you're an editor, but enough whining. - ed.).

And so on with the show. Stórsveit Nix Noltes apparently loosely translates as 'The Nick Nolte Big Band' (though that is according to the internet, and everyone knows the internet lies more than your most twisted ex). They sound like nothing you've heard before, unless you are the champion of Eastern Bloc Folk Rock. Although their first album was pretty much lost somewhere in the ether (they only had eight members then), FatCat records were smart enough to pick up on the adoring live following the band have and release Royal Family: Divorce.

This is an album that is purely instrumental and all the more compelling because of it. Lyrics probably would have been an unwelcome distraction. The brass section duals with the guitars, at times giving the impression that compositions are about to be torn apart, particularly on the wonderful Atmadga Duma Strachilu (Revolution Song). These are tracks that shift gears, mid-track, resetting the goal posts as habitually as you and I breathe.

You can see, from the album, why Stórsveit Nix Noltes are considered to be so good live. If they can even come close to reproducing the technical display on Royal Family on the stage then they must put on one hell of a show. That, though, is the source of one small, and probably illogical, quibble: the album lacks the kinetic intensity of a live performance, and, while that is hardly the fault of Stórsveit Nix Noltes, the feeling that the music is meant to be heard live is like an unwelcome guest to this listening experience that can't quite be made to leave.

But this isn't enough to dampen the beautifully chaotic Winding Horo, in which the brass becomes ever more persistent to the point of pleasurable frustration. Nevestinko Horo undercuts this immediately, offering relief in the form of a comparatively sparse and winding musical narrative that brings Royal Family; Divorce to a contemplative close.

There's a good chance that Stórsveit Nix Noltes are already hitting your radar as massively overhyped post-rock. There are times when hype and the genuine article do miraculously coincide, however, and Royal Family: Divorce is an excellent album to be open-minded about. It might take a good few listens, but you might just grow to love it.

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