Hildur Guðnadóttir – King's Place, London, 27/02/10

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Photographs by Sebastien Dehesdin

Even in the rarefied world of “alternative” music, solo cellists are a rare breed. With the exception of experimental drone-meister Alexander Tucker, it’s hard to think of many practitioners of the oversized violin that hit out in their own right, so it’s refreshing to see Hildur Guðnadóttir step into the spotlight and provide a richer, more stately alternative to the Andrew Birds and Owen Palletts of this world.

The theme of tonight is “The Resonance of Music With Water,” and employing no more than her instrument and looping software, the Icelander evokes the many aspects of that most protean liquid with exquisite skill. Whilst some compositions are slighter and more subtle, shimmering like sunlight on a calm sea, others are more tempestuous, drawing well upon her subterranean vibrato. One piece has her striking the C string with urgent intensity, overlaying the staccato rhythms with a melody line tinged with Middle Eastern influences; another takes a much more experimental approach, looping layers of atonal noise created by swirling her bow around the cello’s bridge. Even at her most emphatic Hildur is the embodiment of cultured serenity, preferring to convey her passion through her music rather than showboating dramatics- it’s just a shame this reserve stretched to her sartorial choices too, given her spectacular costumes at Fever Ray last year.

One fears this kind of music falls too firmly in the neo-classical camp to get much attention from your average Pitchfork-reading indie kid- certainly, it’s a world away from the Hildur’s twee-pop melodising in Múm. But if you’re a fan of beautiful music, and willing to experience something a little different, you owe it to yourself to give Ms. Guðnadóttir a fair hearing.