Week 592: “Fårö” by Martyn Heyne

On the Swedish island of Fårö (not to be confused with the Danish-owned Faroe Islands that lie halfway between Scotland and Iceland) there are several rare and rather ominous-looking rock formations called Rauks.

A result of erosion during the most recent ice age and subsequent centuries of wind, these limestone rock stacks stand at the edge of the Baltic Sea, as if guarding the coast from intruders. They’re often found in clumps (or ‘fields’ as the Swedes refer to them) and like clouds, you can start to pick out shapes if you stare at them long enough. They are also found in neighbouring Norway, although there they are sometimes referred to as “petrified trolls,” which is just fantastic.

I can’t decide whether they look ominous or beautiful or stark or what. Maybe you have to see them in person to figure it out. But the Swedes love their Rauks; legendary Swedish filmmaker Ingmar Bergman – who lived on Fårö – loved them, and often walked among them for inspiration.

This week’s featured artist, German guitarist Martyn Heyne, might also be a fan of Rauks, considering the title of this song from his 2017 release, Electric Intervals.

Heyne’s guitar playing is unconventional. He uses loops and effects pedals and plays in a style that isn’t exactly jazz, but isn’t exactly classical either. I don’t know if he wrote this song with Rauks in mind, but I’d like to think he did.

What makes this a beautiful song:

1. It alternates easily between dark, unsettling chords one moment, and bright, hopeful chords the next. Ominous to beautiful and back again.

2. The only percussion is a quiet kick drum pulse, as subtly persistent as erosion.

3. In the final minute, the tiniest little chimes appear in the background. I love that Heyne cares enough to put that granular level of detail into his work.

Recommended listening activity:

Starting a rock collection.

Buy it here.