Since she almost quietly entered the music scene with her debut album Philharmonics in 2010, Danish singer-songwriter Agnes Obel (if she really fits into that category) has been garnering critical praise, as well as large audiences – but not because she is your typical ‘singer-songwriter’ that presents her introspective thoughts along with a strumming acoustic guitar or tinkering piano.
There has always been something deeper and musically richer there, more connected to Obel’s obvious talent and musical education, all reflected in the fact that her follow-up Aventine (2013) made it quite big all over. Her next two albums, Citizen of Glass (2016) and Myopia (2020) not only did more for her reputation (and success), but confirmed that we are dealing with a serious musical talent that needs full attention.
So what is it in Obel’s music that made her make a connection with both critics and wide audiences? Sure, Obel obviously has classical music background, and she certainly is not the first artist to be able to skillfully (and often brilliantly) combine that background with other, more modern musical forms. The key with the accessibility and quality of her music almost never relied on her knowledge of classical music, but rather on an intuitive, instinctive way of combining different musical elements that made them fit together almost perfectly.
Now, after six years, Agnes Obel is back with her fifth album The Meaning of Flowers. In the meantime, Obel gave birth to her first child, an event that is life-changing in every aspect of that term, and it all reflects in the 12 compositions/songs (and they are both) here.
The title itself seems to reflect Obel’s thoughts and feelings about interconnectedness, not only to humans close to us (particularly your own child), but also those not so close as well as all living things, living nature if you will.
It is all reflected in a new depth level in Obel’s music. All elements that characterized her work so far are there – from almost cinematic atmosphere she creates with detailed, subtle orchestrations, that are more minimalistic than full-blown to detailed melodies that songs like “Gemini” and “Never Been” show in full here.
Now, some have labeled Obel’s music as dark, but there was always always a streak of life enjoyment and optimism flowing there and attempt to understand things that dominate our lives. Explaining “Blood so ReD”, Obsel said it is based on a hymn by Enheduanna (high priestess at the ancient city of Ur, thought to be the world’s first named author) to Inanna – goddess of childbirth, love, sex, song and war. The hymn’s presence “made its way into the song, lifting up my own epiphanies on childbirth and the laws of the body and these experiences outside of language that link us across time and space” according to Obel.
This intellectual introspection that Obel weaves through her music here, a masterful combination of classical and pop music forms, never burdens the music itself, but just gives it another depth level that makes this album such a joy to listen to.
