Sweden has a proud history of producing music that is darkly atmospheric and brooding. From the black metal for which Sweden has cemented itself as an enduring wellspring to the more ethereal, but pervasively occultish ambient music that bears all the tropes of the former without the accompanying instrumentation, this is the domain of Beckahesten. Barely five years old, the Swedish trio have established themselves as the creators of sonic soundscapes that borrow heavily from the metal aesthetic, but through which ambient noise and lingering vocals reverberate resulting in music that is much harder to categorise. 

The trio includes Peo Bengtsson and Per Åhlund, who is already involved in a number of projects that delve deep into the realm of abstract noise, sound and art including solo enterprises Diskrepant and Skare not to mention Peter Bjargo’s Sophia, while the final piece of the Beckahesten jigsaw is provided by Viktoria Rolandsdotter’s vocal, compellingly beautiful and so central to the band’s sound. Together the three musicians create a beautifully atmospheric experience that draws on high fantasy, the underworld and the occult, making them perfectly at home on Cyclic Law - a label that has been in operation for over two decades skirting dark worlds and avenues across its many artistic endeavours.

It was here that the trio released their first album, Vattenh​å​lens Dr​ä​pare in 2020 during the heart of the pandemic presenting “a singular journey through windy fields and misty forests where mournful cries lure us toward the resting place of the pale and lifeless.” Followed a year later by Tydor, now, a couple of short releases aside, it’s time for album number three, Svältens Tid (The Time of Famine) - the tale of struggle and introspection which purports to take the listener on “an intense journey through the depths of the human experience.” 

Comprising four tracks, the album opens with the majestic “Tomhetens Eviga Psalm” – nine minutes of soaring industrial vibrations, ambient soundscapes and haunting background vocals that work together to create a boundaryless space of noise before the heaviness proper descends. This is a medieval yet futuristic world. Wide landscapes. Endless dark plains. Four minutes in, the foreboding vocal of Rolandsdotter enters. A pseudo-soundtrack to a grave battle scene – the mood building, dipping and then rising once more to a warrior-like musical crescendo. My Swedish isn’t up to much admittedly, but this could just be the end of the times. ‘Min Sista Måne” begins with a choir of ghostlike voices before any sign of instrumentation appears. Less majestic perhaps, but no less intense as male and female voices ascend driven by heavy and persistent low-toned percussion. Again, a march to who knows where. “Där Tysta Stjärnor Föll” provides some respite, the vocals far softer and delicate this time round, but the same sensibility abounding - centred on the duplicated sound of Rolandsdotter. Quite breath-taking. The spectral voices return for “Inte Din Tid” as the dynamic is taken down a notch or two, but Svältens Tid eventually rounds off with a flourish – the dual force of warrior-like percussion and male vocal.  Go deep and listen here.