After a curious covers album which, despite some jaw-dropping reworkings, almost saw them labelled as a novelty act, Susanna appears to have split-from-but-remained-on-speaking-terms (it’ll never work) with her Magical Orchestra Morten Qvenild.  Her new found single name solo status is a brave move (and one which has thoroughly confused the Last FM tagging system which thinks I am repeatedly playing an album by a Boston DJ), but she has a strong enough collection of songs here.  Oh, and a more-than-able foil in Deathprod himself, Helge Sten, who produces and adds a little guitar.  So she’ll cope, I’d like to think.

Once you’ve got past that very odd little/big/space/song title, the first thing that is bound to strike you around the chops is how little music there is on it.  Sten has done a bang-up removal job around the place, stripping the album of all furniture to create a sense of openness and unclutteredness in which Susanna’s voice can repose and reflect, the musical sparseness mirroring beautifully the sense of loss and absence engendered by the lyrics.  Qvenild pops back on occasion to remind Susanna of what might have been, scattering a few piano notes around like petals ripped from a rose on a few tracks.  Susanna holds it together with an impressively contained and restrained performance – keeping the flashy “Hallelujah” voice well and truly locked up in the box, as if it would crack were she to attempt it.  “Where do I go from here?”, she asks towards the end on “Home Recording”.  As if I’m someone you should come to for advice on matters of the heart…

Here’s some advice I am (arguably) more qualified to dispense: share in this sweet sweet sorrow by buying the album from Rune Grammofon.