Hildegard reimagine the dancefloor on an enchanting self-titled debut

Hildegard is the welcome collaboration of singer-songwriter Helena Deland and multi-instrumentalist producer Ouri. In their solo work they offer their own flavour of mystery: Deland’s dimly-lit folk always threatens an electronic intrusion, and Ouri’s ghostly dance numbers hide their sweeter melodies behind jittery beats. There was an inevitability, then, that they would produce an album of such shadowy intrigue.

Single “Jour 1” lurches us onto the dancefloor with the pulse of a Bicep cut, swapping catchy dance hooks for hushed and obscured vocals. It spins into frantic, screeching techno in its second half, and only one track in, we find Hildegard at their loudest. They produce moments of sweeter pop on “Jour 2” and “Jour 3”, which both feel curious and mystical, as if we’re being whispered off the dancefloor and into quieter rooms.

Each track is named after the eight days Deland and Ouri spent together in a studio, and that contained process at times causes a sag. “Jour 5” and “Jour 7” — while by no means bad tracks — saunter by with little persuasion. But neither derail the album’s momentum; the pair have put together a work of layered pop electronica that is free-spirited but remarkably poised. In ways reminiscent of a Grimes or Tirzah production, but with its own composure.

“She just wanted to save some time” is repeated almost defiantly on the hypnotic “Jour 4”, while “Jour 5” finds a similar theme for its jangly chorus: “I’m about to give it some time/You can take yours and I’ll take mine”. They care about control, agency, and finding yourself in the moments you think you have lost yourself.

The duo themselves said that “Jour 1” is “about processing by partying, and the clarity that sometimes comes with it”. In all its complicated and entrancing medley, Hildegard is an ode to those cloudy nocturnal moments where lines blur and possibilities seem endless.

On the closer, “Jour 8”, Deland and Ouri harmonise cryptic love notes over head-nodding guitar lines and atmospheric echoes — whatever process this album has been observing, it now feels complete. In the final 10 seconds, we hear birds chirp: dawn has arrived and this night is over. We can only hope we get to spend many more with Hildegard.