Fever Ray

There's no denying Karin Dreijer Andersson is one eccentric character. As one half of the brother/sister act the Knife, the Swede has spent years behind a beaked mask, fetched a Grammis Award (the Swedish Grammys) via gorilla and even began work on a Darwinian opera, not to mention penned some of the creepiest avant-electro to ever haunt a play list. Still, Dreijer Andersson has never sounded as comfortable in her own private bizzaro world as she does now as Fever Ray. In this newly minted solo project, any rough edges that came with the Knife have been smoothed, trading the digital dance floor click-clack for warmer, starker, eerier slow-motion grooves. The arrangements are less abrasive, the mood more unified and the vocals layered, pitch-shifted and tweaked into what have become Dreijer Andersson's most delicate moments, as well as her most downright sinister. In a sense, Fever Ray boils down the Knife to its purest electro/organic form, but with a clearer idea on where it's going and how to get there. And that destination? Well, it may be a bit scary but it's definitely stunning.