Værmin is the type of album that lives under the skin. A record of artistic metamorphosis, Tara Nome Doyle’s music spellbinds and shudders. Tied by a thematic thread that sees beauty in every corner of nature, Doyle’s sophomore offering focuses on every movement, lyrically and musically.
From the ominous hum that opens ‘Leeches I’ to an ethereal vocal that rises from it, Værmin takes shape slowly. From Tara Nome, Doyle’s ability to weave expressionistic, deep conceptual lyrics around a melody as inviting as it is foreboding captures a songwriter of great nuance.
Indeed, Værmin sneaks up on you. There’s a turbulent undercurrent found in the closing moments of ‘Snail I’ that contrasts the wave of harmony within ‘Mosquito’ while also maintaining the air of dark repose that Doyle threads throughout. Værmin contains power within its depths, ‘Caterpillar’ finds Doyle delivering a vocal with a snarl that dominates the foreground, cutting through the great swells of texture.
But it is ‘Crow’ that most effectively captures the imagination. Doyle’s voice soars in layers and weaves around a persistent piano, scattered rhythms and pounding beats, contorting and distorting sonically. This atmospheric weight, found throughout Værmin, is spellbinding. There’s something mysterious and inviting about the record, making it hard to define yet impossible to ignore, once caught in its web.
And so it goes, Værmin is a record of brutal beauty. Defining Tara Nome Doyle as an enigmatic songwriter, the music of Værmin bewitches via Doyle’s presence alone. A stellar offering of great subtly and performance.