Hildur Guðnadóttir – Where to From
When the pitch-black, claustrophobic sounds of the HBO series “Chernobyl” seeped into my living room, I immediately knew that someone with a rare talent for translating emotional devastation into sound was at work. The name Hildur Guðnadóttir etched itself into my memory. So when the Icelandic composer now comes with her first solo album in ten years, attention was captured and expectations were high.
“Where to From” marks a remarkable return to the core of Guðnadóttir’s artistic identity, far from the bombastic film scores that made her internationally famous. This is not “Joker”, not “Chernobyl”, not a soundtrack for someone else’s story. This is pure Hildur, distilled to her essence. The album emerged from a particularly intimate process, in which the composer whispered exquisitely beautiful melodic fragments into her phone over six to seven years, like a kind of diary. These voice memos formed the blueprint for nine miniatures that together last barely half an hour but open up a world that cannot be captured in conventional time measurements.
Guðnadóttir comes from a musical family where creativity was the most natural thing in the world. Her father is a composer, her mother an opera singer. At the age of five she received her first cello, and by the age of ten she was already on stage. You can hear this early training in the technical mastery with which she treats her instrument, but it is her later wanderings through the Berlin and Icelandic experimental scenes, her work with drone legend Sunn O))) and industrial pioneers Pan Sonic, that give “Where to From” its idiosyncratic character.
There is something about this album that one is indeed quickly inclined to label as typically Icelandic. That special combination of icy expansiveness and still intimacy, of volcanic tension beneath a calm surface. But that would be too easy. The Icelandic sound, if it even exists, is not a geographical fact but an artistic choice, rooted in the way artists like Guðnadóttir deal with space and silence. It is the legacy of an island culture where isolation and community go hand in hand, where extreme natural forces coexist with human vulnerability. Guðnadóttir channeled this not through her passport, but through years of training in both classical and avant-garde traditions, through deep friendships with musicians like Jóhann Jóhannsson, and through an almost ascetic discipline in omitting everything superfluous.
Minimalism is the key word here. “Where to From” moves in the territory of Arvo Pärt and other masters of sacred simplicity, but without the religious connotations. Strings and voices weave together into layers of sound that feel both organic and abstract. The nine compositions flow seamlessly into one another, from icy openings to softer, almost consoling closing chords. Little happens in the traditional sense, no melodic hooks or rhythmic extravagances, but attention is held by subtle shifts in harmony, the way a cello line gradually unfolds, how a voice drifts like mist over the string landscape.
The concept of friendship is central to this album, not only as a theme but as a production principle. Guðnadóttir invited a small, tight-knit group of musicians to bring these diary fragments to life together. The result sounds like an intimate conversation among old friends, without embellishment or virtuosic flourishes. It is music that demands attention, a quiet environment, and an open mind. In a time of bombastic emotionality and TikTok attention spans, “Where to From” feels almost rebellious in its refusal to be loud.
Is it perfect? No. The extremely short duration can feel frustrating, as if you have just taken a deep breath and already have to exhale. Some pieces feel more like sketch material than fully developed compositions. But perhaps that is the point. Guðnadóttir does not present a polished masterpiece here, but an intimate glimpse into her creative process, a vulnerable invitation to listen to the music constantly flowing through her mind.
For those willing to accept that invitation, “Where to From” offers a rewarding listening journey that resonates long after. It is not background music, not easy consolation. It is an album that takes space and gives space, that builds tension without ever releasing it. Pure, unadulterated Hildur Guðnadóttir, finally back where she belongs. (8/10) (Deutsche Grammophon)
