Seek Shelter

by Iceage

Iceage - Seek Shelter

Ratings

Music: ★★★☆☆ (3.5/5)

Sound: ☆☆☆☆☆ (0.0/5)

Review

**★★★★☆**

There's something gloriously perverse about watching a band systematically dismantle everything that made them vital in the first place, only to emerge stronger and more compelling than ever. Such is the curious trajectory of Copenhagen's Iceage, who arrive at their fifth album having shed virtually every trace of the feral punk aggression that once defined them. *Seek Shelter* finds Elias Bender Rønnenfelt and his cohorts so far removed from their 2011 debut *New Brigade* that you'd be forgiven for thinking they'd been body-snatched by a particularly literate gang of country-rock revivalists.

The transformation didn't happen overnight, of course. Each successive Iceage album has seen the Danish quartet inch further away from their hardcore origins, with 2018's *Beyondless* already hinting at the expansive, almost orchestral ambitions that come to full fruition here. But where that album felt like a band still finding its feet in unfamiliar territory, *Seek Shelter* arrives fully formed, brimming with the confidence of musicians who've finally located their true north.

Recorded in Lisbon with producer Pete Kember – yes, that Pete Kember, formerly of Spacemen 3 – the album unfurls like a fever dream of Americana filtered through distinctly European sensibilities. Rønnenfelt's vocals, once delivered in a caustic snarl, now range from Nick Cave-esque baritone crooning to something approaching tenderness, while the band constructs vast sonic landscapes that owe as much to Crazy Horse as they do to any punk precedent.

The opening title track sets the tone with its languid guitar arpeggios and Rønnenfelt's cryptic proclamations about seeking refuge "in the arms of someone's routine." It's a mission statement of sorts, announcing Iceage's complete embrace of melody and space over the claustrophobic intensity of their early work. The transformation is so complete it's almost shocking – like discovering that your favourite angry young poet has taken up watercolours and moved to the countryside.

"Vendetta" emerges as perhaps the album's finest moment, a seven-minute epic that builds from whispered confessions to a cathartic crescendo, complete with string arrangements that would make the Dirty Three weep with envy. Rønnenfelt spins tales of revenge and redemption over music that shifts between tender vulnerability and explosive release, proving that Iceage have lost none of their emotional intensity even as they've abandoned their sonic brutality.

Equally compelling is "Love Kills Slowly," which marries a hypnotic guitar motif to one of Rønnenfelt's most affecting vocal performances. The song unfolds with the patience of a master storyteller, each verse adding another layer to its portrait of romantic dissolution. When the full band finally kicks in, the effect is devastating – all the more so for being so carefully constructed.

The album's most surprising moment comes with "The Holding Hand," a duet with Thy Slaughter's Ydegirl that finds Iceage exploring genuinely tender territory. It's a love song, essentially, though delivered with the kind of existential weight that prevents it from ever feeling saccharine. The interplay between the two voices creates something genuinely moving, a reminder that beneath all their intellectual posturing, Iceage remain capable of accessing raw human emotion.

Not every experiment succeeds entirely – "Drink Rain" meanders when it should soar, and "Gold City" occasionally threatens to disappear up its own atmospheric backside. But these are minor quibbles with an album that succeeds so completely in its reimagining of what Iceage can be.

The band's current incarnation feels less like an evolution than a complete metamorphosis, and while some longtime fans may mourn the loss of their youthful fury, *Seek Shelter* makes a compelling case for the virtues of maturity. This is music made by people who've lived enough to understand that sometimes the most radical act is simply allowing yourself to be vulnerable.

Whether this represents Iceage's final form or merely another waystation on their restless journey remains to be seen. But *Seek Shelter* stands as their most cohesive and emotionally resonant statement to date, proof that sometimes the best way forward is to completely abandon the path you started on. In seeking shelter from their own mythology, Iceage have discovered something far more valuable: their own voice.

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