Loney, dear

From The Sunday Times. Songs of the year; Loney dear Sinister in a State of Hope The Swedish singer-songwriter Emil Svanangen is a fixture in our Songs of the Year lists. A voice that breaks your heart before you can work out what he's singing helps.

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"Despair has never sounded so sweet."--Spin

"Svanangen's captivating ruminations sound as if he's trying to capture the
purest essence of joy, albeit with a melancholy underbelly. It's that
bittersweet warmth that makes Loney, Dear's hushed, pastoral folk songs seep
into the heart."--NPR

"He wraps the ups and downs of a whirlwind romance into tiny packages.
You're left hungry, fully certain that 34 minutes-- let alone five-- will
never be enough of this very, very good thing."--Pitchfork

"Through soft layers of acoustic instrumentation and vocal harmonies,
Svanangen creates a sustained and lasting representation of the classic
emotions of regret, peace, and loneliness." --PopMatters

"Svanängen's bright falsetto holds his miniature musical tapestries
together." --Austin Chronicle

Loney, Dear – Loney, Noir
My love affair with Emil Svanängens music continues. By far my artist of the year, the past couple of years in fact. There isn't much I can really say about the music that I haven't already said on this site in the past 12 months. Loney, Noir and indeed the previous three releases have been on constant rotation ever since I heard a live session on Gideon Coe's 6music show back in the summer of 2006. And, after seeing them live every chance I could get this year it's fair to say no other music around at the moment touches me in the same way as Loney, Dear does. There is nothing more I can really add to that.

http://thelineofbestfit.com/2007/12/10/class-of-2007-rich-thane-the-line-of-best-fit/

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Loney, Dear
Loney, Noir
8.2/10

Hand claps are cool. Shouts? Yeah. Ecstatic, under-stated rhythms? Hell yeah. But the Clarinet? Of course. All of these are the secret weapons of Loney, Dear a.k.a. Emil Svanängen's Sub Pop debut Loney, Noir. The instrument made popular by seventh graders is used, ingeniously, by Svanängen to guide you through this quick and seamless album in less than 35 minutes. The instrument is in no means used as a gimmick or a crutch, it is simply used to underscore and highlight beautiful and oddly familiar melodies.

One of the obvious highlights of Loney, Noir; "I am John", is so infectious it's hard to sit still. The songs easy and natural build is reminiscent of the best Kings of Convenience. Though by two and a half minutes into the song Svanängen's falsetto harmonies, eyes-closed happy drumming, and seemingly lo-fi layers gives even Broken Social Scene and Neutral Milk Hotel a run for their money. He croons "I've got a feeling of you and we danced for so long/I want your arms around me like lovers do, and I'm never gonna let you down" in a magnificent head-voice like it's the only thing he can do to get it out. Be sure that your air bag isn't very sensitive, 'cause you'll be drumming along like it's nobody's business.

You may have noticed… "I've got a feeling of you and we danced for so long…" It doesn't really make sense. Well, he's Swedish. Like Jens Lekman and Jose Gonzalez before him, there's a distinct accent and rhythm used to elide lyrics and tell the story he'd like. Truly, these Swedes baffle me. How is it they write such prolific, interesting, and story worthy lyrics in a language that isn't even their own? What's more, they are stars in their own country. We've got Jessica Simpson. They've got Jens Lekman. Sorry…side bar…anyway. It's something to keep in mind as you listen to Loney, Noir because of some of the interesting rhyme schemes and the dialect he has. It's not forced or pretentious. It's earnest and kind of cute which he uses to his advantage.

The "Cute" factor might get on your nerves a bit though. Svanängen's high, but solid voice is a familiar trend among the indie crowd. Loney, Noir's first track "Sinister in a State of Hope" hits you right away with the limits of his voice. It's not grating, though it is not beautiful like Jónsi Birgisson of Sigur Ros, and it's certainly not twee…which is where I'll insert the inevitable Belle and Sebastian comparison. Though, unlike some of his colleagues, there's a certain gravitas behind Svanängen's voice. In another highlight, "The Meter Mark's Okay," he splays the songs theme right out in front of you in the first line; which is the songs title. Along with the muted electronic and acoustic tones that accompany him, his slight vibrato is devastating in a song that is either about settling and mediocrity, or running out of gas.

The album is thick with sound. A bedroom orchestra made possible with the wonders of today's technology. According to legend, Svanängen only recently retired his lamp and bought a mic stand which would suggest another bedroom recording of which Sub Pop has had no qualms with releasing in the past (i.e. The Thermals More Parts Per Million). Though, Loney, Noir stinks of studio time and well thought out harmonies. Blending electronic and acoustic beats with woodwinds, like in "I Won't Cause Anything At All".

With its thirty-four minute running time, Loney, Noir is easy on the ears and will grow on you with each listen. Only time will tell if this is only a wisp of aural pleasure that will fade with time, or a glimpse into something great. Meanwhile, start dusting off that old clarinet that you accidentally never returned to the rental place and start rockin' out to the sweet sweet sound of Sweden.

musicmiz.com

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2.14.07

Very rarely, I get sent albums that leave me pretty speechless. Where the music is so good that it seems pointless to trundle out your review superlatives. I have had this problem with the new Loney, Dear album called "Loney, Noir" which has been on constant playback for a month or so now.

Interestingly, this came in a Subpop package along with the new Shins which I'd been eagerly awaiting. Yeah, "Wincing" is pretty great… but Loney, Dear completely took over my CD player with his amazing one man band recordings. Granted, I've got a soft spot for the Swedes (and yes, I was a fan before the current influx of Swedish indies) but Emil Svanängen has really turned on the charm in his pop music.

It's hard to describe except to say that it is so beautifully natural and organic sounding. It's not shoegaze, but I'm going to call it "Stargaze" music because it's filled with the same childlike wonder I once felt when watching the Leonid shooting stars up near Mount Wilson. And I don't mean that ill-fated kind of childlike wonder that often transforms Peter Griffin on Family guy into a gibbnering 7-year old idiot. I mean true wonder.

The first three songs, "Sinister In A State of Hope", "I Am John" and "Saturday Waits" are reason enough to get the album. But I was already completely sold by the end of the first track. For reference, the actual setup of the music is similar to either Badly Drawn Boy or Sufjan Stevens or Polyphonic Spree where simple pop and folk melodies are framed by a larger amount of instruments than might otherwise be orchestrated. The instrumentation is quirky which adds to the sense of wonder. Vocally, Emil channels Brian Wilson, Jeff Hanson, or Paul Simon when he sings in a higher voice (which is most of the time), or Jason Lytle when he sings lower. There's a slight nod to the Elephant 6 type of sound of Beulah or The Apples, but it's just slight.

Though the recordings are done on his own in somewhat modest settings (apartment or basement of parent's house), I've heard that when he plays live he adds on a full band. I would really like to see them play a show, but I don't believe they're coming around to California. They're playing SXSW, though. I've heard they did shows with Peter, Bjorn and John in Sweden - what a bill that would be.

Basically, I am just going to call this the best album I've gotten this year so far. And I would be super surprised if it didn't make top 5 at year's end. I know it's early, but Loney, Dear is just too good.

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Resten av världen verkar ha fattat nåt som vi svenskar hittills inte snappat upp; Loney Dears talang och kapacitet. Han är omskriven i Mojo, NME, Vice, och Q samt stolpade in på Frankrikes största musiktidnings lista över årets bästa skivor – med två album! Varav den ena kom på nr.3, bakom Justice och LCD Soundsystem. Inte illa pinkat. från MTV.SE

Label: Sub Pop || Released: February 2007 || Rating: ESSENTIAL
Yes, we have written about this album before. More specifically, my partner Vertigo wrote an article on Loney, Noir on April 3rd of this year. Then why post this again you ask? Well first of all, the Swedish genius Loney, Dear has made a magnificent album which deserves to be heard by every music loving person out there. Seconds, thanks to the hard work of my good friend Tsuru it looks like the battle between compact disc and vinyl has finally been decided…and vinyl won!

I was born in 1976 and grew up playing my Beatles, Michael Jackson and Dean Martin (don't ask) on the ol' record player my dad gave to me when I was a young lad. Later I turned to the handy format of the casette-tape before getting thoroughly amazed by the wonders that was digital music. No more needles on black plastic or the streaming of fragile tapes for me. Compact disc and its 0-1-0-0-1-1 etc was the new thing and I loved it. I have not touched a single piece of music-holding vinyl since the late 80's and have not regretted this for a single moment, that is to say, I didn't untill two days when I downloaded the vinyl version of Loney, Noir from Tsururadio…

The sensation that shot through my body when I realised that a good album had just become a great album cannot quite be described with words. This is something that should be experienced first hand. The majesty of the songs and the beauty of the subtle orchestration really bloom on vinyl, as opposed to the cd-version. I can't stop listening to it and has convinced me of the fact that I really need to get myself a recordplayer when I get back from vacation. Thank you Tsuru for this great initiave and lets hope that more people catch up on this idea in the future.

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Loney, Dear's Got a 'Fever' November 6, 2007 Exclusive! Download Loney, Dear's intoxicating orchestral oeuvre "Le Fever" from their forthcoming release, Sologne. Loney, Dear Swedish one-man band Emil Svanängen, (a.k.a. Loney, Dear) has recorded and produced four full-length albums in his parents' basement over the last three years, including Sologne which he self-released in Europe in 2006. He also distributed several thousand copies pretty much by himself -- not surprising when you consider that Svanängen created the mini-symphony heard on each track of the album, named for a region in Central France, by playing every instrument himself (but his live shows require the services of a five-piece band). "Le Fever" shows this virtuoso at the top of his dreamy-voiced, multi-instrumental game. The aptly named tune is a delirium-inducing lament of lost love, laced with a bossa nova rhythm and a delicate array of brass, chimes and violin. Svanängen is lovely in capturing the desperation left at the end of a relationship and the inability to let go -- "I've had it till now / I've slept on the floor / My hands in despair / Inside misery," he sings. The beautiful sadness comes to a head when the instruments fall away leaving only Svanängen's silken thread of vocals and distorted backup rising like mercury through a glass thermometer (think Xiu Xiu or Björk's "Pagan Poetry"). Despair has never sounded so sweet. Sologne finally arrives stateside Dec. 4 via the Rebel Group. ADELE BALDERSTON

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Pitchfork: 7.6 of 10 Loney, Dear. Sologne Dear John/Rebel Group. Loney, Dear, aka Emil Svanängen, is finally getting a commercial foothold in America. After whetting our appetites with Loney, Noir, his fourth record, he gets a U.S. release for another rustic variation on sugar-sweet Swedish pop, a song cycle named Sologne, France's pond-mottled approximation of Walden. A sort of refuge from the city, Sologne neatly fits the album's mood of willful naivete and olden-day romance and dreamy solitude. Thoreau via Sweden via Sub Pop? The welfare state's Bright Eyes? The formulas come close, but they can't quite encompass Loney, Dear's vision of richly layered, souped-up folk. On a mixtape, the Svanängen's sweet nothings would flow seamlessly into, frankly, anything by their labelmates the Shins. Yet Svanängen isn't crafting the tender poetry of suburbia. Instead, his album begins in an unabashedly pastoral mode, squeezing the dimensions of a rolling-hills epic into "The Battle of Trinidad and Tobago", which unfolds, in three-and-a-half minutes, like a cleverly abridged take on "And the Band Played Waltzing Matilda". Hailing from the countryside of Svanängen's imagination, "A Band" and the syncopated "Le Fever" have the same rural airs. But even Thoreau slogged back to the metropolis. Svanängen returns for closure. Like one of the high-tech ballads in Belle and Sebastian's catalog, "The City, The Airport" skips along with the Scots' trademark blend of energy and ennui, racing below a wilderness of melody. Delicate, always on the verge of shattering, Svanängen's whisper echoes the trembling falsetto of Stuart Murdoch, when he chants "the city, I don't want another life that's killing me," lingering on the vowels. The smoky sax and flimsy keyboards lend the song body without sacrificing its intimate, homemade feel. In these long goodbyes to urban emptiness, the swell of emotional momentum, as more and more sounds suavely drop into the mix, marks Sologne as a marvel of lo-fi artistry. Obviously Svanängen knows how to mount a crescendo. (Everyone who heard "I Will Call You Lover Again" and "Carrying a Stone" from Loney, Noir will remember this.) If the closing song "Won't You Do?" is this record's soothing denouement, then "I Lose It All" works as the climax, a hunk of ice that snowballs into a hurtling boulder, as pianos tumble upstage, distortion buzzes downstage, snares shuffle, and the whole kitchen sink overthrows an unassuming drums-and-strums arrangement. Track after track, Loney, Dear coaxes drama out of these songlets, trading the spartan rawness of the usual do-it-yourself fare for a brilliantly compact sense of spectacle. He wraps the ups and downs of a whirlwind romance into tiny packages. You're left hungry, fully certain that 34 minutes-- let alone five-- will never be enough of this very, very good thing. Roque Strew, October 24, 2007

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Loney, Dear
Mon, Jan 22, 2007 by Sweet Talk

Loney, Dear is an equisiste addiction. I have been using it as headphone kindling since New Year’s Eve. While some may coin Emil Svanangen’s baklava layered master work as a cold fusion of Belle & Sebastian and Kelley Stultz with a side of Swedish meatball, this is selling his joyous confessional short. Pile on the merits; they are all deserved.

Here is what I scribbled on the back of my drink coaster, after accidentally falling into a vat of dirty martinis on a tuesday night: “I Am John” is basement pop perfection. Somewhere far, far away, Brain Wilson’s muse and Barry Gibb’s Voice coach are jealous. If I had this track in my eight-track quiver during my first co-ed slumber party I would have been much luckier. If only sucking helium could make me sound that good. The first great close eyes, shake head and smile song of 2007. I wonder if the waitress will notice if I pilfer an extra clip of olives.

Album comes out Feb.6 but check out “I Am John”, the best song performed at CMJ this year by far: I AM JOHN

Above photo by the talented Peter Beste

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Article written by James G Jul 25, 2007.
'Saturday Waits' is a veritable steamtrain journey of a song. It chugs along on gentle indietracks of high pitch vocal and acoustic guitar, puffing out clouds of Beatlesesque tubasmoke along the way. 'Delightful' was the word a pal used to describe this, and I'm inclined to agree with him. 'I Do What I Can' is the flip, and is more of a trip up an escalator, and Paul Simon is brought to mind in places. I suspect this may be Stockholm based Loney, Dear at their (his?) most rocky, yet is still as gentle as you like. Nice.

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channel4.com fancy_a_spot_of_dogging
As well as having dogs dressed as people (still funny) the song really is a bit good. Oh, and Loney, Dear is a man from Sweden, in case you were wondering, which is very likely since he has sold about 19 records in the UK so far. Videos like this ought to turn that around though... NB. We are quite annoyed that Loney, Dear is not from Denmark. If he was we could have used the moderately entertaining 'great dane' headline we came up with.

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A longing The Mamas and the Pappas vocal drag is provided by courtesy of Swede Emile Svanangen AKA Loney, Dear, whose worrisome but strangely calming vocals bob up and down on the acoustic ripples and background fuzz, for an extended moment of stock-taking. Now on his fourth album, Svanangen creates calm, as he renews his reputation for being personable, yet distant. This single forms part of the foraging Loney, Noir album that has taken a few acoustic connoisseurs by surprise. Something that is not easy for an artist of this ilk to do these days.
Angryape.com

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DN
Artist: Loney Dear
Titel: "Loney, noir"
Skivbolag: (Parlophone/EMI)

I snabb fart gav Emil Svanängen ut fyra album under namnet Loney, Dear. Han brände ner dem själv och stoppade i egentillverkade pappomslag. Ett av dem hann han till och med göra om, i en "redux"-version. Han sa sig vilja hålla på så där ett tag, för att bli tillräckligt säker innan det blev dags att ge sig in i den reguljära musikbranschen. Men nu ges - som hans andra utgåva på ett etablerat skivbolag - ännu ett av de där fyra albumen ut "på riktigt" och nyproduktionen tycks vara satt på undantag.
Att musikbranschen befinner sig i gungning är knappast någon nyhet, men att just de här två svenska popmakarna har tagit ovanliga vägar dit har sannolikt med andra faktorer att göra. De är solitärer, kunde lika gärna ha kommit fram i en annan era - och låtit exakt likadant. Ändå är det svårt att inte notera likheterna dem emellan.
Nu sägs det att skivbranschens älskade albumformat är slut, att det numera bara handlar om enstaka låtar som folk tankar ner i sina spelare. Men Loney, Dear håller på integriteten i sina album. De är inte långa, de skulle lätt kunna kombineras i andra mönster, men det är inte så han vill ha det. Med små modifikationer bevarar han sina album som intakta enheter, tio låtar som binds ihop av inbördes logik, där de flesta i samma situation skulle ha plockat ihop ett nytt urval till varje ny release.

Montt Mardié väljer i stället att ge ut ett dubbelalbum, trots att den samlade mängden musik bara hamnar på strax över en timme. Hans sätt att tänka är lika konceptuellt, här har han haft en idé om en duettplatta - med gäster som Jens Lekman och Hello Saferide - som får bli cd nummer två, "Pretender". Med sitt eget omslag och sitt eget cd-häfte. Men första skivan är faktiskt starkare, och gör hans egen identitet tydligare. Men båda sidorna ska med. Eller, ja, det är ju fler sidor än så. Här finns såväl storbandsjazz som en plötslig låt på svenska ("När vapnet får styra"), men genom allt hör man samma tilltal. Som gör att alltsammans spretar mindre än det egentligen borde. Antagligen är man helt fel ute om man försöker få dessa säregna individualister att representera någon strömning i tiden. Men det är likafullt ett hälsotecken att de dyker upp just i Sverige, och just nu. Nils Hansson
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thermusic.com: Of course this is on Sub Pop. I can't think of another record that so perfectly captures the winsome vaguely-twee, sugary, acousti-pop energy of Seattle's finest label, so much as Loney, Dear's Loney, Noir. One memorable hook after another, even the Shins' last record doesn't quite "out-pop" Loney's hailstorm of glockenspiels and vintage keyboards and saxophones, and blissfully unapologetic nasal vocals. In fact, this little unassuming album so damned perfectly captures the whole "indie" zeitgeist I'm surprised it doesn't come with a deluxe edition pre-packaged with a cardigan sweater and horn-rimmed glasses. So who is Loney, Dear? It's not the finest name I've ever heard, but the gorgeous one part My Bloody Valentine one part Belle and Sebastian 30 second opening of "Sinister in a State of Hope" had me all but forgetting this band was dubbed after a made-up English word too closely resembling "lonely." Loney, Dear is really just the tag that Swedish multi-instrumentalist/songwriter extraordinaire, Emil Svanangen, records under. Apparently, the guy's self-released three previous Loney efforts on his own, and if they are anywhere near as close to capturing the joyous panoramic pop of this Sub Pop debut, I'm sure they are well worth tracking down. Much like Svanangen's aforementioned Billboard-topping lablemates, the Shins, Loney's hooks are disarmingly resilient -- they are at once immediately satisfying, and yet they don't seem to go stale. Maybe it's because Svanangen is such a talented instrumentalist injecting his songs with everything from tubas, to handclaps, to optigan, or maybe it's just cause he's from Sweden. Either way, Lonely, Noir is one hell of an addition to Sub Pop's new breed. [HG]

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Loney, Dear op Pukkelpop: Veelgelaagde ontdekking

Live he had four bandmembers with him who gave us a multi-layered sound. With many quiet and louder moments the songs gave the whole concert an enourmous dynamic feeling. Sad thing was that many members of the public talked loudly during the quieter moments, but still everyone was impressed when music grew to a climax. Who was there became a fan of Loney, dear - immediately. The discovery of the festival."

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Loney, Dear – Saturday Waits (Regal) Just what is it about Swedish music? How does it remain so consistently lovely, and more to the point, so damn good? The latest Swede to soothe our non-Scandinavian ears, and probably the word of mouth success of 2007, Emil Svanängen – or to give him his confusingly punctuated pseudonym, Loney, Dear – returns with 'Saturday Waits', the second single from the much-lauded 'Loney, Noir' album.

'Saturday Waits' contains everything that has marked Loney, Dear out for praise, most notably the combination of sunshine pop melodies painted on a gentle summer canvas with a lo-fi folk brush. As with many of the songs on 'Loney, Noir', it starts off fairly quietly before adding layers and layers of colours, hitting its peak with the Beach Boys harmonies of its chorus. Buried beneath these layers is a poignant tale of isolation that Svanängen brings to life and turn into a joyously uplifting three and a half minutes of glorious indie pop.

There is more joy to be had on the flip side of the single – if the Flaming Lips decided to pack in all ideas of giant concept albums and songs that explode to the very edge of pop reason and recorded an album of 4/4 summer pop songs it would probably sound a bit like 'I Do What I Can'. Moreoever, if Belle and Sebastian or the Magic Numbers lived in Sweden , they might just make music as effortlessly cool as this. 'Saturday Waits' is yet another song that makes you want to give it all up and move there – sooner or later we might just all do it.

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From The Sunday Times July 22, 2007 Mark Edwards
The intriguingly spelt and irritatingly punctuated Loney, Dear has been one of the best musical finds of this year. You could have found him before, but you would have had to look hard. Loney, Dear is the alter ego of the Swedish singer-songwriter and home-recording genius Emil Svanangen, who self-released his first album, The Year of River Fontana, in 2003; but unless you were his friend, or a friend of a friend, you were unlikely to join his tightly formed fan base back then. The American label Sub Pop signed him after he appeared at last year's SXSW festival, in Austin, Texas, and rereleased his fourth album, Loney, Noir. When it came out over here, on Regal this April, it met with universal critical acclaim. Since then, Svanangen, who spent much of the previous four years sitting with his headphones on in tiny apartments, has found the consequences of his sudden wider exposure – putting a proper band together, touring, promotional duties – a bit of a culture shock. "Too much is happening now," he says. "More than I want, because I'm really about recording and making music. I love to sit on my own . . . and add things, and subtract things." Presumably, it's this sort of happily reclusive existence that the band name is supposed to evoke? "Oh, exactly." Svanangen has been obsessed with music for a long time. At five, he was learning piano; by the age of eight, he had added clarinet. But what he really wanted was a synthesizer. "I froze when I first saw a synthesizer on TV. I can still appreciate how modern it seemed in those days." In his mid-teens, however, Svanangen switched allegiance from high-tech modernity to more traditional fare. He started playing acoustic guitar and "not very hip Christian folk music". At 18, he zigzagged again and formed a jazz piano trio. "I know it sounds like I kept changing direction, but when I look back on it, it seems like a straight line to me – every piece of music I make, I can trace back to one of these different phases." Svanangen might be able to, but you almost certainly won't be. You will hear sweet West Coast pop melodies, gentle alt-folk arrangements and sudden, Arcade Fire-style rushes of musical energy; and you'll hear Svanangen's thin, high voice, clear and distinct, over gorgeously layered musical backings that genuinely invite comparison with the work of Brian Wilson. The point at which songwriting and arranging and recording blur into one is the point at which Svanangen comes into his own. "It took me a long time to get into multi-track recording," he says, "but when I finally did, it was a big turning point in my life." Svanangen finally acquired the means to multi-track in 2001, when the Swedish government decided to sell computers at a discount. A friend supplied some cheap eastern European music software. "I got used to working really fast, because I never knew if the computer was going to start up again the next day," Svanangen remembers. He was finally in his element, constructing intricate musical structures, the kind where you can't quite work out what instrument is playing what part, where many apparently simple elements suddenly combine into something truly special. "I like the magical things that happen in music," he says, "the things you can't explain." Svanangen sold his own CDs via his website, and found that he could make a living from his music thanks to a small but enthusiastic fan base. "I didn't do much promotion. It spread by word of mouth. People would tell me what they thought of the songs, and I used their feedback to develop. I changed things around if people didn't like them, or if there was a song I didn't hear anything back about at all, I'd drop it completely." It's hard to believe Svanangen would get anything but positive feedback for the songs on Loney, Noir: songs such as the floating Sinister in a State of Hope, with its delicate guitar lines and hopeful vocals, or the urgent I Am John, about someone who is "never gonna let you down", but always does. Ironically, his new-found fame means Svanangen is spending more time than ever burning his self-made CDs, folding covers and putting them in the post, as increasing numbers of people fall in love with Loney, Noir and decide to explore his earlier work. He is staying humble. "I still really appreciate sitting at home, folding CD covers," he says. Then he has a rethink. "Actually, maybe after a couple more months, that will be enough."

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Loney, dear. – Loney Noir (Regal). 5/5

Since releasing his major-label debut, Sologne, back in 2006, Loney, dear. (aka Swedish poly-instrumentalist and ‘home-recording phenomenon’ Emil Svanängen) has been hailed by the British music press as one of the most talented and engaging new artists around. On the basis of second album Loney Noir, that burgeoning reputation is well-deserved. After the first listen to its ten examples of dreamy, understated folk-pop, Loney Noir already feels like an old favourite, reminiscent of the best work of Belle and Sebastian and the Flaming Lips. ‘I am John’ is the first single, and the most obviously catchy song here, but the whole album is instantly appealing and recorded to much the same standard. It is heart-warming to find an album of such high quality, particular one that sustains interest without recourse to the ridiculous, clichéd pomposity of so many of its peers. Hopefully, Loney Noir will finally grant Svanangen the public acclaim he so obviously deserves. It is a sonic treat. Oliver J. Dimsdale

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Sub Pop's latest release comes in the form of an offering from Sweden's Emil Svanängen, one of those "I've never been in a relationship but damnit if I'm not lovesick" guys who writes and records prolifically while seated on the edge of a rumpled bed in his small apartment. His last three records saw distribution out of that same apartment, folded into envelopes by Svanängen himself. Sub Pop A&R discovered him at SXSW, where bedroom pop stars flock each year as if to Mecca. Recording under the moniker Loney, Dear as opposed to his given name — pronunciation is key to marketability, after all — Svanängen's Sub Pop debut, Loney, Noir , announces his monikered self as a more Northern, and therefore more mystical, Sufjan Stevens. (Come to think of it, maybe pronunciation isn't that important. Right, Soof-yan?) Where Sufjan and company focus on narrative storytelling, Loney, Noir deals with a more confessional approach to the emotions accompanying the ends and beginnings of relationships: all that standard fodder for orchestral singer-songwriter composing. From even farther north than the upper peninsula, Svanängen's Scandanavian accent and layered vocals give Loney, Noir a magical, Aurora Borealis-ish effect. With layers and layers of soothing texture crescendo-ing atop one another, Loney, Dear's soft melodies get echoed and inverted by oboes, flutes, piano, strings, electronics, saxophone, etc to create one giant cacophony that conjures dancing on a cloud or the soundtrack to a film about Tinkerbell's favorite flowers.
That being said, the music does not relegate itself to cutesy dream-pop. Rather, this fits firmly in the "elegant" adjectival category. "I Am John," the first single, starts with the quiet announcement "Johnny and I got lost tonight, we got carried away," and from there the orchestral army slowly joins in around Svanängen's rhythmic vocals, carrying him, quite literally, away into a falsetto-ridden glockenspial-driven arena rock ending.
Catchy and fetching, Svanängen's Loney, Dear is sure to be a huge hit when this record hits shelves on February 6. Closing my eyes now and pressing play for "Saturday Waits," I see Emil Svanängen seated on the edge of his bed Sweden. There's an acoustic guitar on his lap, and he's beginning to play and sing quietly: "You sit in your room, looking over the sea, you've got friends over here…" — and as he does, a giant multi-colored rose blossoms forth from the sound hole. It's like a pedaled firework from which horns blast, glockenspiels hammer, and a choir of other Svanängens emerges; then we all float away in white angelic robes, the apartment disappearing around us until it is just us following the singer, sailing through a pink and blue sky on a dense carpet of melodic joyfulness. The image could apply to every song on Loney, Noir. Each track pours out of the speakers like a warm blanket wrapping around shivering shoulders. Elaborate metaphors aside, let me only say: Thank you, Sweden. Between Loney, Dear and my bookshelves, you've given me so much goodness.

-Joseph Riippi, January 30, 2007 threeimaginarygirls.com

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Serving as a pseudonym for Swedish singer-songwriter and multi-
instrumentalist Emil Svanangen (Note: There is an accent mark
somewhere in his last name), Loney, Dear is a melodic glance into
passion, love, and melancholy harmonies. Loney, Noir is the first
American release for Loney, Dear, but it has rapidly made a huge
impact on indie music reviewers. Needless to say, Emil Svanangen's
talent is not being overlooked in the United States. I don't know what happens when I listen to songs like "Sinister in a State of Hope" or "I Am John." It's almost as if I get swept away to a mysterious land of delicate music, so fragile that it could break at any second. Trust me, this music is incredible. If the #5 ranking isn't proof enough, review the scenario that I colored in the aforementioned sentence. I never talk like that. No joke - that is really the effect that this album has on me. Everyone is always looking for unknown acts these days. Well, here you go. This one has barely even peeked its head out of a Swedish cave. Grab a hold of this now and cherish it while you can. If you need a quick comparison of how I would relate Loney, Dear's music to
someone more familiar, I would have to refer to the illustrious
Sufjan Stevens. Yes, Loney, Dear is that good.

My first love was Loney, Dear. It’s become my new uber-comfort music, and I believe I reviewed one of the tracks as sounding like “Nintendo hiring George Martin to produce the soundtrack to Metroid.” Kinda like a dream come true. Recently signed to the recharged, mythical SubPop - and so much dreamier than The Shins could ever be. (Don’t kill me!)Posted by Adam King

A longing The Mamas and the Pappas vocal drag is provided by courtesy of Swede Emile Svanangen, whose worrisome but strangely calming vocals bob up and down on the acoustic ripples and background fuzz, for an extended moment of stock-taking. Now on his fourth album, Svanangen creates calm, as he renews his reputation for being personable, yet distant. This single forms part of the foraging Loney, Noir album that has taken a few acoustic connoisseurs by surprise. Something that is not easy for an artist of this ilk to do these days.

by Dave Adair

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Album: Loney, Dear - Loney, Noir
By Ed Martland

Loney, Dear's album begins like Sigur Rós (with whom they share nationality), most especially in the singer's frail, elf-like voice. It could actually be Sigur Rós's singer in fact, and the song's arrangement, laced with atmospheric keyboards and horns, only adds to the effect. All of this turns out to be a bit of wrong-footing on the band's part though, as the second song brings in a train-like rhythm, building into a racing upbeat pop-eruption albeit still with the singer-from-Sigur-Rós vocals. In fact it proves to be one of the album's highlights, and is unsurprisingly also the lead-off single. Musically the band never stays long in traditional guitar-drums-bass territory, working in choirs, massed handclaps, minimalist Kraftwerk electronics, a harmonium's drone and so on. At times these exotic sounds edge them again into post-rock territory, that epic sweep bleeding into the mix on waves of horns and strings. It makes for a strange combination with the lyrics, given the usually impenetrable nature of the elder group.
Taken as a whole the album is a little disjointed, with only the distinctive voice to hold together several different styles. There are some wonderful moments, such as the single "I Am Jack" and "No-One Can Win", but the feeling that you could be listening to Sigur Rós instead is never far away. Worth hearing if you wish that band had been a pop group instead.

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Tuesday, November 06, 2007
"i've longed for your voice from the other side, i know you so well."*

boys w/ high pitched voices, plinky keyboards and a good harmony and i'm hooked, line and sinker. loney, dear is all of that and more. emil svanängen is loney dear.

loney, dear is swedish pop folk, my fav! i don't know what it is about the swedes and music, but they certainly have it down. if you like upbeat folk-y music loney, dear is so your speed. i've had loney, noir, loney dear's 4th album on repeat since i found it the other day. it was released state side back in february...and i'm not sure how i missed it, but i am certainly glad i found it. and w/ it i found loney, dear's most recent release to us here in the u.s.: sologne.

jeez, i don't know where to begin...other than that i wish we, you and i, yes that's right, me and you were good enough friends that when i told you to buy two albums you would just do it. because that's just the friendship we have. but i know relationships are based on trust. i just wish you would take my word for it. all i know is that there are three things that make an album worth it for me. harmony. lyrics. and the want to play it more than once. the repeat button factor, as it were.

loney, noir and sologne have all three requirements. both albums are a bit different, but not enough to really say so. loney, noir is a little younger, not as composed or layered as sologne. it's also a bit poppier than sologne. i could sit here and dissect both albums but honestly i've been playing them back to back and i'm coming out of a mashed potato food coma at the moment. so why don't you cruise on over to his myspace page and decide for yourself. or just buy one of the albums, i'd never knowingly lead you astray. seriously, i love you.

while you're hemming and hawwing and hovering over your itunes (both albums are a measely $9.90) and wondering if you should buy an album check out this great, creepily wonderful animated video for their single i am john directed and created by andreas nilson.

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Pitchfork Media
There's only one plausible explanation for Sweden's excellent public health care-- they hate our freedom. As such, it's only a matter of time before the U.S. administration runs out of predominantly Muslim countries to test its ordinance on and decides it's time to bomb these uppity Swedes off the map. When this inevitably happens, cultural anthropologists sifting through the Swedish music that's made so much headway in the States over the past couple of years will be presented with a rather misleading portrait of the country. Studying music by I'm From Barcelona, Peter Bjorn and John, and Jens Lekman, they'll conclude that Ben Gibbard and Stuart Murdoch collaboratively authored the kingdom's public school English curriculum, explaining why Swedes, who must be as diverse as anyone else when expressing in their own tongue, turn into starry-eyed ingénues when they sing in English. They'll knit together a portrait of a populace with polarized emotions-- the most fantastic whimsy on one hand, and the most plangent melancholy on the other-- that spends all its time swooning joyfully into each others' arms or staring forlornly out of windows.

At the level of content, Sweden's Emil Svanängen (who records full-band songs by himself as Loney, Dear) is of a piece with recent Swedish indie pop imports. He's sorry-- honestly sorry-- that he ruined your day. He gets things wrong; he's not accustomed to this. Every lyric on Loney, Noir is engineered to express Svanängen's sensitivity, earnest romanticism, and stubborn optimism. The record brims with the cultivated naiveté of classic anorak music, with Svanängen's lovelorn musings revolving around the uncertainty of first crushes, not the grim intractability of troubled adult relationships.

Despite the current Swede-pop trend's homogeneity, I never tire of it when it's well-turned (as Loney, Noir is), because it allows me access to an emotional space that I've long since left behind, one of sweetness and simplicity that's a welcome respite from adulthood's befogged relativism. This is comfort music, and comfort never goes out of style. And while the aura of dreamy romantic abstraction is the same, Svanängen distinguishes himself from his peers on the structural level.

While at times Loney, Noir indulges in IFB-style Swede-pop's jangly bounce-- the excellent "I Am John" trampolines a exuberant falsetto refrain off of fleet acoustic guitar, dainty chimes, and soft horns-- the bulk of the record is smoother and darker, with a perpetual sense of lubricated glide. The songs tend to start small, and then wax orchestral as Svanängen layers emphases onto his simple melodies. "Sinister in a State of Hope" coasts in on glimmering synths and a chunky guitar strum, tightly wound, which gradually open out with hymn-like fervor. "I Will Call You Lover Again" builds a whirling minuet around its spongy synth tones; "Saturday Waits" starts as terse acoustic pop and ends in a swirl of farty bass and efflorescent harmonies.

The music's twinkling churn is a pleasure, but Svanängen's voice is the emphatic thread that holds it together and tends to commandeer your attention. It's high and oil-slick, frequently glowing into a neon falsetto. At once soft and garish, it describes a tremulous yet pitch-perfect weave through his glassy range. The wispy, trailing notes he breathes through the gentle synth-pop of "And I Won't Cause Anything at All" are impossibly winsome; ditto the low murmurs on the baggy, waltz-timed "I Am The Odd One". It hardly matters what Svanängen is saying or how he's saying it-- his voice sounds as lovely at rest in a single note as it does in motion through several. It lends itself to clichés about comfortable old blankets and the like. This is perhaps the music's downside-- the omnipresent comeliness of Svanängen's voice can start to bore into your skull after awhile. After all, even the comfiest blanket chafes if someone's giving you an Indian burn with it.

-Brian Howe, February 06, 2007

Monday, June 04, 2007
Arriving home on Sunday, I napped away the cumulative fatigue I felt after being kept awake all of Saturday by a drunken tambourine player. I had no intention of going out again, until I noticed that earlier in the week I'd made plans to go see Sweden's Loney Dear at Lee's Palace. It was a relatively early show (10.15 set time) and I was somewhat rejuventated, so I set out with little to lose.

Normally, when 120 people are in the 500-capacity Lee's Palace, it's a very lonely affair. But right from the first song, Emil Svanängen and his four-piece band drew everyone to the front of the stage for their first Canadian show ever. They were audibly very happy to be there, and despite the venue being too big for the crowd, they professed shock that anyone other than the promoters were coming to see them on their first headlining tour. So imagine their surprise when the Toronto audience not only recognized songs within the first two beats ("even my own band can't do that," Svanängen deadpanned), but called out for Swedish rarities that Loney Dear weren't sure they remembered how to play. And, like the Bruce Peninsula audience (though nowhere near as emotional), the audience only got louder and more demonstrative as the show went on.

The look on the face of every band member was priceless. One only has to imagine what it's like to land in a foreign country halfway around the world to find such an outpouring of love and familiarity. ("You know our songs better than we do. It's creepy!") For the boyish Svanängen, who writes stadium-sized anthemic choruses set to a modestly ambitious, richly harmonious folk-pop backdrop, you could see all of his bedroom four-track fantasies coming to life as he listened to these rambunctious Torontonians take up his wordless choruses.

It had the campfire intimacy of a Track and Field show, and yet here we were in an ugly, black-walled bin that we've all been a thousand times before. There were those there who were obviously ubergeeked about this largely obscure Swedish band (the fact that they're on Sub Pop here is their only claim to fame so far), and the rest of us quickly fell in love with the disarming stage banter of Svanängen. But the magic here was watching the band be swept up in the moment, especially when they returned for a richly deserved second encore (as opposed to the confessed artificiality of the first one, befitting Svanängen's self-deprecating humour).

The connections continued as we all shuffled out the door, as I overheard two Japanese guys recognize each other from back home, finding each other again in a Canadian bar watching a Swedish band. It was the perfect cap on a weekend of musical intimacy, of moments where the world seems that much more smaller.

"All I want is a state of hope," sang Svanängen. Few people in either audience this weekend could have stated it more simply.

-end-
radiofreecanuckistan.blogspot.com

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Track Marks: How Loney, Dear Became This Week's Biggest Artist In The World

Welcome to another edition of Track Marks, in which your Idolators perform an autopsy on the latest band burning up the MP3-blogger charts.

Artist: Loney, Dear
Hometown: Stockholm
Album: Loney, Noir, out today
First blog mention: A concert review (in Swedish) by Jullans.
The Build-Up: The English-language music blogs started to get excited about Loney, Dear last month; Little Elpees, Invisible Limb, Captain's Dead all mentioned them favorably, as did heavy hitters 3hive.
The Dam-Break: Just in time for Loney, Noir's release, mentions of Loney, Dear have picked up, with posts at Pop Tarts Suck Toasted, Indiefolkforever, HearYa, and DoCopenhagen, as well as an interview with Lunapark6.
Odds of Backlash: 3-1. Not only is Loney, Dear a Swedish outfit that creates pretty, handclap-accented pop, the band's MySpace page says that Emil Svanagen, the band's mastermind, is planning to shut down his entire music-making operation by New Year's Eve 2009, which almost makes him impenetrable to blogospheric eye-rolling.
Is He Worthy?: Blame it on our avowed weakness for orchestral Swedish indiepop, but we're pretty into this album--although it'll probably get lost among our ever-growing collection of such records within the next six months. That, of course, makes the expiration-date idea even more shrewd.

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As much as I love the Canadian music scene, I have to admit that the Swedes are definitely giving us a run for our proverbial money. In the last year or two, I have been exposed to acts such as Jens Lekman, Peter Bjorn And John, El Perro Del Mar, I'm From Barcelona, Suburban Kids With Biblical Names, as well as several others. I don't know what the kids are eating over there but the quality of music coming from that part of the planet is staggering. I finally got around to purchasing "Loney, Noir," the latest release by the one-man Swedish spectacle Emil Svanängen, otherwise known as Loney, Dear. Like all of the artists mentioned earlier, Loney, Dear is another purveyor of perfect pop music. The album gets better with every song, and it's remarkable that a recording that is this animated is the brainchild of only one man. The songs are upbuilding and content, focusing on all things positive. That in itself is different that usual indie pop fare. The songs race along at a rapid clik, keeping the listener enthralled and enthused. I'll lay off the song-by-song review this time since it's already been done at length throughout happy blogland, but if you've been on the lookout for your good mood, it is sure to be found in the sweet falsetto of Emil Svanängen.

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Has there ever been a better time to be a bedroom genius? Thanks to the wonders of modern technology it doesn't matter who you are or where you come from, you can record your music, get it out and get it noticed no matter how uncool you or your home town may be.

Loney Dear are living proof of this. The latest discovery from the legendary Sub Pop label - lest we forget the original home of Nirvana and current home of CSS - Loney Dear is basically the alias of multi instrumentalist Emil Svanangen from Jonkoping in Sweden. He's been quietly releasing music independently for years, Loney Noir is album number four from him and it shows that there's much more to Swedish music than ABBA, Europe or Ace Of Bass.

What we have here is mostly acoustic, almost folky in places although there are some electronics lurking in the mix as well as xylophones, clarinets, pump organs and cellos. The whole thing is held together by Emil's falsetto voice and lovely and subtle stuff it is as well. Think of bands like Sigur Ros, Lambchop or Aberfeldy or even a singer like James Yorkson and you'll get the general idea of what is going on here.

Don't go imagining that this is fey stuff though. Yes, there are songs here called "I Am The Odd One" and "I Will Call You Lover Again" but it never sounds precious. Svanangen's major talent is as an arranger and he is a master of the delicate build up. Album highlight "I Am John" might start softly but by the end things are, if not quite rocking out, certainly sounding more Flaming Lips than Belle and Sebastian. This is the pattern of the whole album; songs here rarely finish in the way that they start and at a brief thirty three minutes not a second of music is wasted.

The whole album is a low key pop delight which reveals more and more secrets with every listen. One to fall in love with.

Reviewer: Brian McCluskey (bbc.co.uk/music/release/pz25/)

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SPACE CITY ROCK
Loney, Dear
Loney, Noir

I've had a bit of a hard time with the music that's been coming out of Scandinavia (primarily Sweden, actually) for the past year or so. Whether it's Jens Lekman, Sondre Lerche, Frida Hyvonen, Peter, Björn and John, or heck, The Cardigans, there's just something about it that leaves me cold. I don't have anything against Scandinavia in general -- some of my best friends are Vikings -- and I firmly support their right to make music however and whenever and whyever they feel like it. It's just not for me, apparently. (Most of it, anyway, but I'll get to that.)

It's not that it's bad mind you; a lot of it's very good. I can listen to Lekman and Lerche and appreciate what they do all day long, at least in an intellectual, damn-that's-difficult-to-do sense. But does it really get me? Nope, sorry. In fact, maybe the seemingly effortless skill these folk from the Far, Far North display when it comes to songwriting and music as a whole that bugs me. It's almost too perfect. Too bright, too shiny, too polished-clean, too freakin' friendly for its own good. (Which, come to think of it, all kind of jibes with the handful of folks I've met over the years from Norway and Sweden.) Hell, even louder, more rock-oriented Scandinavian bands like Refused or The Hives (both of whom I like, by the way) manage/managed to make the supposed chaos they threw off sound awfully well-thought-out and meticulous.

Then there's Loney, Dear, the one-man recording project (he has a live band now, apparently) of Stockholmer Emil Svanängen, whose first big-time full-length, Loney, Noir, was reportedly recorded all by Svanängen himself in either his teeny studio apartment or his parents' basement. And it's incredible. No, really; it blows me away, particularly the first half of the disc (I tend to lose momentum around "I Will Call You Lover Again").

So what's the deal? What's Loney, Dear got that his fellow Swedes don't have? Partly, it's the voice. Svanängen's got one of the most ineffably beautiful, highest-pitched voices I've ever heard from a guy -- not that there aren't guys who can sing this high, but that they're not as downright pretty as this oddly elfin-sounding fellow. And then there's the bit about halfway through "I Am John," where an even higher voice comes in, sounding so gorgeously soprano and amazing that I had to double-check Loney, Dear's bio; yep, that really is him, no girls involved (well, except maybe as inspiration, that is). It's damned impressive, right on the verge of otherworldly. Svanängen's vocals sound closer to those of a band from a totally different Scandinavian country than they do any of his countrymen/women. Think Sigur Rós's Jónsi Birgisson singing and playing delicate indie-folk, and you'll come close to the general sound of Loney, Noir.

That's not all of it, however. Beyond Svanängen's voice, what really sets Loney, Noir apart from other indie-pop pouring out of the North is that the music's got an urgency, a heart to it that I haven't heard from a whole lot of Svanängen's peers. The sound is soft and gentle, but not twee (nope, not even with the vocals), reminiscent instead of the lite-but-quirky rock stylings of folks like Death Cab for Cutie or fellow Sub Popsters Wolf Parade. There's a lot of Belle and Sebastian here, too, particularly in the driving urgency of the rhythms and the way each track builds and builds until it doesn't feel like it can hold another drop of sound.

That layer-upon-layer building of sound seems to be Svanängen's modus operandi, really. On album high point "I Am John," for one, he slaps strings atop keys atop burbling fuzz-bass atop jangly Nick Drake guitars atop shimmery organ, managing to not let any of the pieces overwhelm any of the others. It careens along at a breakneck pace, seemingly unstoppable as the music gets more and more complex. "Carrying a Stone," too, follows the same general pattern, swelling and surging upwards until it very nearly explodes, crescendoing in a moment of sublime, Polyphonic Spree-esque glory.

The songs themselves are insistent and careful, especially early on, but they avoid the pitfalls of over-meticulousness to which folks like Sondre Lerche (to my ear, anyway) fall victim. Tracks like "Sinister in a State of Hope" or "Saturday Waits" sound like holdovers from '70s AM radio, all warm earth tones and smiles coupled with nicely layered strings, keys, and Svanängen's crystalline vocals. Even songs like "No One Can Win" come off as triumphant and friendly, which is a little weird considering that the song's basically an admission that the singer's stuck in a no-win situation. By the time Svanängen nears the end of "Hard Days 1.2.3.4." and leaps upward into a howl straight out of "Take On Me," I'm finding that the smile plastered across my face won't come off, no matter what I do.

[Loney, Dear is unfortunately not playing Houston any time soon, but he is/they are playing SXSW on March 13th through 15th, along with Of Montreal (check the SXSW site for schedules). You know what you've got to do.]
( Jeremy Hart // 03/12/07)

(Sub Pop Records -- 2013 Fourth Avenue, Third Floor, Seattle, WA. 98121; http://www.subpop.com/; Loney, Dear -- http://www.loneydear.com/) http://www.spacecityrock.com/reviews/rev-0307.shtml

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TWO WAY MONOLOGUE
I've never been one to drown my sorrows with comfort food. Well, that's not entirely true, seeing as that last week when I was feeling lousy I pretty much demolished one litre of Super Loaded Brownie ice cream -- but that was an aberration. Most people embrace the concept of comfort food; Terri, for instance, relishes every opportunity she can get to have her mom's mashed potatoes, roast chicken and gravy. For my dad it would be Sheppard's Pie or meatloaf.

Me? I'm more into comfort music; it follows along much the same line. When I'm feeling like the world has me on the ropes and is peppering me with punches, and I might go down for the count, music is my solace. The right album can put your feet back on the ground. It might be only temporary, but this a powerful weapon to have in your repertoire, to be able to know that no matter how much shit life is raining on you, music can brighten your day.

After all this lead up, let me introduce you to Emil Svanangen -- or as he is known in the music world, Loney, Dear and his wonderful "new" album on Sub-Pop Loney, Noir. The quotes are not unnecessary because this album technically isn't new. Emil has been self releasing CD-R's with much success and Loney, Noir was one of these, now being mass released by Sup-Pop. They are a big fan of the reclamation project, as with Chad VanGaalen who had the same Sub-Pop treatment a few years previous.

Should it be any surprise that Emil comes from Sweden? Not if you've been paying attention. Sweden has been producing an indie gold rush of spectacular music over the last couple years. My press kit described the music of Loney, Dear as "soulful indie folk with a powerful mini orchestra." I find this description nails the essence of Loney, Noir on the proverbial head.

One song in particular has been enjoying some face time in the hype machine recently. I even saw the video being advertised on Youtube (not bad for a guy who not long ago was rocking it CDR styles, eh?). The song is called "I Am John" and it is most definitely buzzworthy. In a utopian world I'd like to think we were part of said buzz, as a few weeks ago -- before even glorious Pitchfork decided to write about Loney, Dear -- we featured "I Am John" in an edition of Track-Fu, which it won.

Emil sings this song with more speed and vigour than most of the other songs on Loney, Noir. He's often compared to Sufjan Stevens for his home recording style and creative tinkering with indie-pop, and this is a good example. This song seems like it was made to have bells sprinkled throughout and it just took a brilliant musical mind to make the connection. Vocally, in each verse Emil seems to manage to take his voice to a higher octave, becoming slightly more frantic. It's almost a slow-motion indie-pop panic attack and it sounds awesome. Though not my favourite, it's easy to see why this song is getting the love it gets.

"Sinister in a State of Hope" isn't Loney, Dear at his most musically ambitious, but the album opener shows that properly constructed songs can make a thin voice sound strikingly beautiful. As he recycles the lyrics "All I want is a state of hope" against what is an otherwise stark backdrop, the effect is captivating. Is that an oboe at the end of the song? My guess was clarinet, but Terri thinks oboe and she usually is smarter than me. Either way, you won't find many musicians around who'd make that decision, and that adds to the reasons why you can't find many reviews that don't mention Emil and Sufjan.

It's not till later on Loney, Noir -- in the third stanza, if you will -- when the jawdropping moment occurs for me. If you can envision James Figurine (or to make it easier on you, a slowed-down Postal Service) meeting Sufjan Stevens, with a dash of Polyphonic Spree, then you might be able to start to hear what is going on in "I Will Call You Lover Again." It's a song that naturally gets you swaying, and I could easily see an intimate concert with fans of Loney, Dear holding hands, smiling and relating this song to whichever guy/girl in their lives match the accompanying lyrics.

Musical scientists aren't much different than real scientists. When you are mixing and matching different styles, tempos and instrumentation techniques, there are going to be times that your creation is verbose and brilliant, and other times when it might have been better left in the test-tube. I wouldn't call a single one of these ten songs an album-ruining mistake, just a few songs combining to keep Loney, Noir relegated in the very good territory rather than being crowned as outstanding. But there is plenty of time for that outstanding album to emerge, and now with the new exposure and the comforts of Sub-Pop firmly in Emil Svanagen's corner, I, for one, would certainly not bet against that next album being exactly that.
- Two Way Monologues

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Loney, Dear — Loney, Noir
Being born in the hometown of the Cardigans brings a certain level of intimidation for any aspiring Swedish rock musician. Good thing Loney, Dear mastermind Nils-Emil Svanangen rose to the challenge of his birth locale. Trained in both classical and jazz growing up, Emil kept his ear open to Kraftwerk and Brian Eno and grew into an apartment-based songwriting style that gradually incorporated a vast swath of instrumentation, pushing the bounds of soulful folk experimentation. After selling thousands of CD-Rs, including Loney, Noir, which was self-released in 2005 in Europe, Emil finally caught the attention of Sub Pop, who re-released Noir stateside in February. Combining warm tones, jazzy instrumentation, and a troubadour vocal delivery that at times recalls fellow European crooners Sondre Lerche, Travis' Francis Healey, and occasionally even Sigur Ros' Jon Thor Birgisson, Loney, Noir offers an intimate look at a songwriter caught between genres, but unafraid of his predicament.

As the album unfolds, Emil pleads his case for a "state of hope" in the solo acoustic to enveloped orchestra movement of opener "Sinister in a State of Hope." Deserving single "I Am John" lets warm tones, xylophone notes, and dueling horns and clarinets ride gritty guitar and organic percussion so Emil's soft vocals can mesh with high-end harmonizing. It's a mini-orchestrated group pick-me-up — as Emil sings it, he's "never gonna let you down." After hearing this song, you believe him. A '70s soft-rock chorus warms to squeaking low-end bass for some subdued indie pop on "Saturday Waits," and "Hard Days 1.2.3.4." strikes a note of resonance with Emil's American twin, Fifty States heartthrob Sufjan Stevens. Quiet acoustic tones are overcome sporadically by clarinets, flutes, and marching band percussion while Emil emotes about the onrush of tough times in a fast-paced world: "We used to be the fighters here." Both Radiohead's "Motion Picture Soundtrack" and "Life in a Glass House" get channeled through "I Am the Odd One," replete as it is with haunting organ, angelic harmonizing, and bouncing woodwinds. Yet Emil seems more intimate than Yorke here, as the melody is lighter and the vocal delivery is not as other-worldly. While Emil certainly has musical confidence in himself, his lyrics on Noir often betray a self-effacing tendency that reappears frequently. True to form, and despite its defeatist subject matter, "No One Can Win" benefits from a beautiful clarinet hook that interweaves with Emil's uplifting vocals until it makes the group chorus soar. You can almost see Emil's downcast eyes, though, through the soft, staccato strings which drive the waltz of "The Meter Marks OK," allowing him to harmonize the meter of loss in triplicate: "You slip away, you slip away, you slip away." While overall the record has a very breezy, organic folk feel, some synthetic elements do appear. The Nintendo key plunks and drum fills that serve as foundation for the brief "I Will Call You Lover Again," and the driving guitar and drum current of "Carrying a Stone" both are carried by a faint electronic pulse. But the latter overcomes its programmed feel, building beautifully as vocals, percussion, and horns swell into a layered, yet restrained, finale. Direct programming returns in closer "And I Won't Cause Anything At All" which, though probably the least distinct of the record's tracks, does juxtapose synthetic beats with Emil's trademark falsetto peaks and acoustic picking.

There's a moment in "I Am the Odd One" where Emil's lyrical confession is echoed by quiet whistling that is simultaneously intimate and congenial. It's a telling slice of Emil's earnest approach to songcraft, an approach which brings together folk, classical, jazz and rock elements with an endearing quirkiness. Loney, Noir offers a perfect intro to an original voice that, heard now for the first time in the States, is full of promise for the future.

Review by Brandon Forbes on Transmission website.

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Loney, Dear - Loney, noir
Dear John / EMI
VÖ: 18.05.2007
Spielzeit: 33:59 min.
Unsere Bewertung: 8/10

Learning by hearing
Meschuggene Ambivalenz. Wir feiern, was wir fürchten. Wir verneigen uns vor verhuschter Melancholie und verkennen, dass das Damoklesschwert der Depression sich Zentimeter für Zentimeter tiefer senkt. Nichts anderes als eine strikte Beschäftigungstherapie spränge für Emil Svanängen heraus, wenn der Boden der Tatsachen ihn mit seinem breit geöffneten Maul verschlingen und alle Berauschtheit im Keim ersticken würde. Natürlich ist der Frontmann von Loney, Dear weit davon entfernt, seine leidenschaftlichen Lyriken auf einer Tagung kalkulierender Psychoanalytiker zum Besten zu geben. Aber sollte dies jemals der Fall sein, niemand würde klatschen oder sich eine Träne aus dem Auge wischen. Ein Kopfschütteln, ein Bleistiftkratzen auf dem Analyseblock, das Zücken der weißgewaschenen Zwangsjacke und ein fester Druck mit dem fetten Plem-Plem-Stempel. Diagnose: "Da muss was getan werden!".

Man mag dem Rezensenten verzeihen, wenn er einer Überdosis strukturiertem Alltagsleben unserer Leistungsgesellschaft ausgesetzt war. Die Konservatismen werden sofort beiseite gelegt, es soll nicht wieder vorkommen. Schließlich ist das Pop! Überhaupt, sich den Leiden des jungen Svanängen entziehen, der sich nicht selten als "fool" kategorisiert, heißt, mit aller Kraft einem Vulkanausbruch an Emotionen unbeteiligt gegenüberzustehen und seinen Meister in Ignoranz zu schneidern. So wie Lou Barlow einst sang: "Weakness is the secret of the strength", scheint sich auch der Schwede Svanängen diesem Motto in allen seinen Zügen untergeben zu haben. Schon "Sologne", das wie "Loney, noir" weit verspätet im restlichen Europa Einzug hielt, offenbarte ein traktiertes, durchwühltes Innenleben.

So nicht anders auf "Loney, noir", auf dem sich das Wohnzimmer erneut als Tatort demaskiert. Wer den anfänglichen Klängen des vierten Albums von Loney, Dear lauscht, wie der kleinlaute Hoffnungsschimmer "Sinister in a state of hope" Schritt für Schritt in unverwüstliches Verlangen mündet, Svänangens glockenhelles Organ sich zur Bee-Gees-Schmerzgrenze empor hebt und eine berauschte Instrumentenflut die Hörbahnen erschlägt, ist Zeuge anarchischen Bombasts, der auf knapp 25qm² seine Entstehung fand. "I want your arms around me like lovers do / And I'm never gonna let you down / Never gonna let you down." Auch das herzergreifende Liebesbekenntnis und die spontane Lebensflucht "I am John" verliert kurzerhand die Beherrschung, wechselt von akustischer zu elektrischer Instrumentierung. Harmonisierende Glockenspiele und Bläser geben ihre besänftigenden Rollen auf und steigen mit ein in die emotionsgeladene Narrenfreiheit. Svänagnen weiß zu variieren und zu arrangieren, so dass "Loney, noir" nicht zu einem bescheuerten Reigen an aufdringlicher Durchgeknalltheit verkommt. "No one can win" und "The meter marks OK" werden mit Orgeldröhnen und sanftem Saitenzupfen am Boden gehalten und die spanische Gitarre hält in jedem Falle den großspurigen Anstürmen stand.

Schließlich ist es er der anmutige Tanz "I will call you lover again", der das Bindeglied zwischen Laut und Leise herstellt und den Autor in all seinen Schwächen entschleiert. Atemlos, sprachlos, wunderschön. Der Wunsch nach Reife und erwachsen werden, nach Selbstbewusstsein und Selbsttätigkeit. "Loney, Noir" ist eine bewundernswerte Achse der Renitenz, im Kampf gegen die Melodienführung in Moll, gegen Selbstmitleid und lebensechte Einschränkungen. Fortweg mit der skandinavischen Tristesse, goodbye teenage angst. Eine Selbsttherapie. / Markus Wollmann

Highlights: I am John; Saturday waits; I will call you lover again Tracklist: Sinister in a state of hope; I am John; Saturday waits; Hard days 1,2,3,4; I am the odd one; No one can win; I will call you lover again; Carrying a stone; The meter marks OK; And I won't cause anything at all (10)

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26.03.2007 06:00
Loney, Dear
Sologne & Loney, Noir
Dear John Recordings / Cargo & Sub Pop / Cargo
by Tobias Mull; Euphorie. Verzweiflung. Es waren drei Wochen des Wahnsinns. Und Loney, Dear war der Soundtrack. Du bist geschwebt, du hast geheult, du hast getanzt, du warst am Ende. Und Loney, Dear war da. Hat deine Hand gehalten. Hat dich verstanden. Du fühltest dich, als hätte der schwedische Songwriter Emil Svanängen, der hinter Loney, Dear steckt, diese Platten nur für dich aufgenommen. Nur für diesen Moment. Für diesen Moment zwischen Euphorie und Verzweiflung. Der Refrain von "A Band" ging so weich rein. Diese Orgel streichelte dein kleines Herz. Du wusstest, etwas Großes würde passieren. Und es passierte. Dann die Tränen bei "I Am The Odd One". Dieser kleine Chor der Verzweiflung. Diese getupften Klarinetten. Oder "In With The Arms" natürlich. "Keeping me calm like you do. I love you. I love you." Zu "The City, The Airport" hast du die Faust nach oben gereckt, als du gerade dein weißes Hemd zum Ausgehen gebügelt hast. Hast lauthals die Zeilen mitgesungen: "I don't want another life that's killing me." Bist durch die Sozialwohnung gesprungen. Wenn du nicht genug kriegst vom Leben, musst du dir den Rest eben holen. "I Am John" – eine Hymne an den Moment, die Liebe, den Wahnsinn. Mit trotzig-trauriger Bee-Gees-Stimme singt Emil: "I've got a feeling of you and we danced for so long, I want your arms around me like lovers do, and I'm never gonna let you down, never gonna let you down." Träumen, tanzen, tumulten. Dann waren die drei Wochen vorbei. Eine kurze Umarmung zum Abschied. Loney, Dear singt dazu: "I will call you lover again." Und während du sie im Arm hältst, möchtest du ihr ins Ohr flüstern: "Deine Arme halten etwas in ihren Händen – arme Vögel. Bleib gut mit den Armen." Euphorie. Verzweiflung.

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Ah, Sweden: birthplace of cheap furniture, bearer of great meatballs, and bringer of wondrous pop music like fluttering delicate snowflakes.

Sub Pop's latest release comes in the form of an offering from Sweden's Emil Svanängen, one of those "I've never been in a relationship but damnit if I'm not lovesick" guys who writes and records prolifically while seated on the edge of a rumpled bed in his small apartment. His last three records saw distribution out of that same apartment, folded into envelopes by Svanängen himself. Sub Pop A&R discovered him at SXSW, where bedroom pop stars flock each year as if to Mecca.

Recording under the moniker Loney, Dear as opposed to his given name — pronunciation is key to marketability, after all — Svanängen's Sub Pop debut, Loney, Noir , announces his monikered self as a more Northern, and therefore more mystical, Sufjan Stevens. (Come to think of it, maybe pronunciation isn't that important. Right, Soof-yan?) Where Sufjan and company focus on narrative storytelling, Loney, Noir deals with a more confessional approach to the emotions accompanying the ends and beginnings of relationships: all that standard fodder for orchestral singer-songwriter composing.

From even farther north than the upper peninsula, Svanängen's Scandanavian accent and layered vocals give Loney, Noir a magical, Aurora Borealis-ish effect. With layers and layers of soothing texture crescendo-ing atop one another, Loney, Dear's soft melodies get echoed and inverted by oboes, flutes, piano, strings, electronics, saxophone, etc to create one giant cacophony that conjures dancing on a cloud or the soundtrack to a film about Tinkerbell's favorite flowers.

That being said, the music does not relegate itself to cutesy dream-pop. Rather, this fits firmly in the "elegant" adjectival category.

"I Am John," the first single, starts with the quiet announcement "Johnny and I got lost tonight, we got carried away," and from there the orchestral army slowly joins in around Svanängen's rhythmic vocals, carrying him, quite literally, away into a falsetto-ridden glockenspial-driven arena rock ending.

Catchy and fetching, Svanängen's Loney, Dear is sure to be a huge hit when this record hits shelves on February 6. Closing my eyes now and pressing play for "Saturday Waits," I see Emil Svanängen seated on the edge of his bed Sweden. There's an acoustic guitar on his lap, and he's beginning to play and sing quietly: "You sit in your room, looking over the sea, you've got friends over here…" — and as he does, a giant multi-colored rose blossoms forth from the sound hole. It's like a pedaled firework from which horns blast, glockenspiels hammer, and a choir of other Svanängens emerges; then we all float away in white angelic robes, the apartment disappearing around us until it is just us following the singer, sailing through a pink and blue sky on a dense carpet of melodic joyfulness.

The image could apply to every song on Loney, Noir. Each track pours out of the speakers like a warm blanket wrapping around shivering shoulders.

Elaborate metaphors aside, let me only say: Thank you, Sweden. Between Loney, Dear and my bookshelves, you've given me so much goodness.

Leave it to a Swedish one-man band, Loney, Dear, to restore faith in divine pop music. Maybe it's Nordic hospitality, but singer/songwriter, Emil Svanangen, greets us with a charming, fuzzed falsetto that's as welcoming as a cup of hot chocolate on a winter night. The grueling DIY music circuit hasn't phased this cherubic frontman; this, his fourth album, is a splendid, melodic mini-symphony full of subtle exuberances normally attributed to the most wide-eyed neophytes. Like a twee pop version of Bright Eyes, or a Brian Wilson who opted to inject himself with honey, each song begins with simple lyrical vulnerability about, well, being vulnerable. Svanangen woos us with gentle lamentations "I didn't hope / For something I couldn't have / You turn me down, let it happen / With your hands, with your hands" ("Sinister In A State Of Hope"). Dude's been walked on … screwed over, but he's anything but angsty; he's too damn cute and the only thing you're tempted to do with your hands is hold his little rosy cheeked-Swedish face in them. His voice, the gentlest of lullabies, swirls like some sugar-fueled sleigh ride and peaks perfectly with the advent of polite, sweetly aggressive instrumentation; bells, flutes, a layered chorus, brushed drumbeats; sweeping up into a precise polyphonic whirlwind exuding a sort of myopic innocence of unbridled zeal that has yet to be stifled by adulthood. Budding horn crescendos and waltz-like beats seem counter-intuitive to Svanangen's emo introspections. But he maintains that delicate balance between the sweetly saccharine and the deepest thoughts of a young schoolboy; enough to soften even the hardest of broken hearts. You can almost picture him scuffing his feet back in forth, searching for words as he coos an apologetic, "I am sorry, honestly I am sorry / For ruining your day" ("I am the Odd One"). As a perfect phonetic accoutrement, Svanangen's accented "sorry" sounds more like "sowwy;" aww shucks, isn't he lovable? Svanangen is solid in his delivery; he knows what works (something akin to journal entries sung by a boy's church choir) and follows the recipe with ardent dedication and enthusiasm. Discount that vague sense of redundancy because, admittedly, it can be difficult to listen to a Swedish Sufjan Stevens and love him because he's created a pop pyramid made of sugar cubes. Climb it and ascend towards the warmth of the sun on a snowy afternoon. Don't forget to catch some snowflakes with your tongue when you get to the top.

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