Review: Fågelle ‘Bränn min jord’
Back in 2022, I got to witness an artist who left me utterly speechless after their performance at Ramsgate Music Hall in Kent, supporting BIG|BRAVE, to the point when her album Den Svenska Vreden came out in 2023, I jumped at the chance to review it for this very webzine.
After the gig, I made a point of hanging about the venue to buy their debut album, and take a few minutes to get it signed and chat with the artist. I recalled just how quiet, gentle, and unassuming she was in comparison to the stage performance, which was a revelation in performance art and at times pure feral aggression down a microphone.
Back then, I had no idea just how much their work would hold influence on my musical landscape, as when Den Svenska Vredenwas released, I was left intoxicated, and without any hesitation, it made its way into my top ten albums of that year. Since then, I have patiently waited for any new musical venture, and now, here we are, February 2026, and a new album has arrived to satisfy that desire.
That artist is Sweden’s Fågelle, and the new album is entitled Bränn min jord, which translates as Burn My Soil, and is a metaphor for her return home after a long time away, and reclaiming the Earth as a form of rebirth that can be heard on this new release.
What’s evident right from the start is that it has a feel of catharsis, less intense than previous work, and with a fresh new outlook. Very much like Anna Von Hausswolff has done with her most recent release Iconoclasts, on this latest instalment, there is a maturity, and what feels like a shedding of the past. It really does make for a fantastical listen, and I have once again been left spellbound.
The thirteen-track opus is a steady mix of highs and lows, equally as intriguing in the quieter moments as it is during the crushing highs. Its construction and emotional rendering create something so delicately awkward and beautiful that much of the time it’s impossible to distinguish between joy and sadness.
Opening with Riv mig (Rip Me), it is a track that literally feels like tearing down the old to expose the new. It is a poignantly delicate start with a softer initial outpouring of mournful vocals and piano before opening out to a vastly more intense interjection of powerful expressionism. Dropping back to piano and vocal, it seems to step forward, before recoiling into the safety of the darkness once more.
On track three, Innan malen hittat in, is where we really see Fågelle come to life. The bassy throb with percussion which accompanies the vocal is intensely alluring and pulls the listener in from its very inception. This is my first real awakening to her music in 2026, and it’s a real evolution of the dynamics. Exciting and lavish, it is a more versatile experience and should really see the artist gain a lot more attention on the musical world stage.
An album of pure beauty, Fågelle has once again delivered something truly mesmerising…
By contrast, Lars tröstesång makes for an eloquent intersection. A delicate interlude of gentle acoustic guitar and soft vocals, that brings back a simpler feeling, realigning the listener’s palette for the coming outpouring.
Alla mina namn starts with a pulsing, muted throb of electronic beats with eloquent singing, before dropping back briefly, and then restarting again. It reminds me in essence of late ‘90s Radiohead, when they were at their most experimental with electronics, and using the minimalist structures to maximum effect. It also pushes me towards Mouse On The Keys and how they build sublime passages through sonics.
The same can be said of Det blev våra liv, where this evolution in sound has awakened a beautiful new era, one filled with warmth and joy. Both tracks show her versatility in music creation, the desire to evolve, and bring new feelings to the stage. With the title track, ‘Bränn min jord, we see Fågelle at her most vibrant, and the sounds throughout are as sprightly as they are steeped in mystery. This is a joyous outpouring and a real highlight of the whole album.
Satans jävla fan is quite possibly the darkest moment of the whole record. It’s emotionally heavier, with what feels like notes of ‘90s Depeche Mode in the mix, and brings things back to Earth with a bang before the final act plays through.
Det djur som är du is one last mournful display of emotional power and feels like an acceptance of oneself as a mere frail human being. It’s a tear-jerking climax, but also an awakening – a recognition that, when everything is said and done, you are a fragile, emotional vessel in need of love and acceptance from both yourself and the world around you.
An album of pure beauty, Fågelle has once again delivered something truly mesmerising. I am in awe of its majesty, and I hope you’ll seek it out and embrace it as I have. Wonderful – simply wonderful.
Label: Independent
Band Links: Facebook | Bandcamp | Spotify | Instagram
Scribed by: Lee Beamish
