alyosha
Susanne Sundfør of Norway is the biggest pop star that no one (in the U.S.) knows about if tour stops are any indication. (A quick Google search yielded a two-date touchdown in Brooklyn back in 2013 but nothing since.) Pop star feels a bit reductive, actually. Creating a hit song may involve an algorithm, but Sundfør challenges her audience by bringing the esoteric into the equation: "I read about how people's brains feel comfortable with patterns, but even better if it takes a little turn, so that you have surprise but also familiarity. It's like an orgasm for the brain." This is the same artist who composed the soundtrack to Self-Portrait, a biographical film about a Norwegian photographer who died of anorexia nervosa, and collaborated with the likes of M83 and the DJ duo, Röyksopp. (Check out their phenomenal cover of “Ice Machine” by Depeche Mode.) Susanne is a woman who does what she wants no matter how far-fetched the project seems. A fine example is the song “Kamikaze,” (2015) which contains both a harpsichord outro and the sound of a plane crash she exactingly created by building a Swarmatron synthesizer from scratch. Introducing weird/nerdy shit to a large audience is admirable in the same way that science communication is—making abstract concepts digestible. But I love that she doesn’t try to be—digestible, that is. Of her fourth album and magnum opus, Ten Love Songs, a critic offered: “[This record] deals with love and contains huge pop hymns – but still it’s far too complex and abysmal to satisfy the masses.” Either I do not fall within the masses (not much of a surprise there) or the critic underestimates the appetite of her listeners.
Her latest (2023) album marks a shift in her Gothic folktronica discography to something lighter in feeling but not intellect or artistry. Heavily inspired by her grandfather’s work as a linguist in Semitic languages and the bonds of family, blómi, is a flower opening (in Norse, “to bloom”). The song, “alyosha”—her journey of finding renewed hope and purpose in romantic love and motherhood—is a standout and our spotlight track today. In its lyrics, she radiates vulnerability (“They say I was a broken woman”) and determination (“They say life’s no point, so why bother? / Love yourself more than any other / But that is not what I will live for, no”) without slipping into sentimentality. She does this by universalizing the personal (the music video contains intimate footage of her wedding to jazz musician, André Roligheten) and personifying the universal. Before the music begins, she interprets the song title and its source material, her husband. She moves fluidly from describing his person to mirroring a higher concept of love, something akin to agape—striving to be better, more compassionate, more open because of the strength we find in each other (in being deeply loved) and in living our values: “alyosha is kind, generous. He has a sense of humor. Compassionate. He is the sort of human being that everyone falls in love with and likes to be around. He just radiates joy and light. He is something to strive towards, something to look up to. Because in these days we’re so fragmented and polarized. Even though we have different opinions, the emotions behind those opinions are the same, and alyosha sees that.” To play off an axiom oft attributed to Joan Baez, “‘alyosha’ is the antidote to despair.”
Another citric waxes, “People are hardly self-sustaining.” We may live life for ourselves, in the sense that we should not live vicariously through others, but we stay alive for others. In taking the roles we play as sisters, partners, daughters, parents, friends, lovers, and neighbors seriously. Maybe it is not so strange that the recording ends with with the drone of bees whose survival, so too, is bound up in that of the hive.
Some notes on the composition: Susanne Sundfør is the queen of layered instrumentals and meticulous production. From a stripped down piano, we add an acoustic guitar, synthesizers, and a brief moment (3:40-3:50) when she is seemingly backed by an intergalactic slide guitar. Finally, (4:01) we get the effect of church organ, tambourine, and her trademark soaring vocals. It approaches religious ecstasy.
Jonze, Tim. “Susanne Sundfør: ‘Making Ten Love Songs made me feel naked, without skin’.” The Guardian, 15 Oct. 2015, https://www.theguardian.com/music/2015/oct/15/susanne-sundfor-ten-love-songs-made-me-feel-naked. Accessed 25 May 2025.
Burin, Rick. “Susanne Sundfør is in bloom.” The Line of Best Fit, 24 Apr. 2023, https://www.thelineofbestfit.com/features/interviews/susanne-sundfor-in-bloom. Accessed 25 May 2025.
Zeller, Nathan. “Susanne Sundfør’s Beautifully Intricate, Cross-Cultural ‘Blómi’.” Tracking Angle, 17 July 2023, https://trackingangle.com/music/susanne-sundfor-s-beautifully-intricate-cross-cultural-blomi. Accessed 25 May 2025.