Hildur Guðnadóttir ‎– Leyfðu Ljósinu

Touch ‎– TO:90
CD, Album


1 Prelude 4:11
2 Leyfðu Ljósinu 35:14

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Leyfðu Ljósinu (Icelandic for "Allow the light"), was recorded live at the Music Research Centre, University of York, in January by Tony Myatt, using a SoundField ST450 Ambisonic microphone and two Neumann U87 microphones.
As to be faithful to time and space - elements vital to the movement of sound - this album was recorded entirely live, with no post-tampering of the recording's sense of occasion.

℗ & © 2012 Touch
Published by Touch Music [MCPS]
Made in the EU

Barcode and Other Identifiers

  • Barcode (Reader): 5027803149021
  • Barcode (Text): 5 027803 149021
  • Mastering SID Code: IFPI LY33
  • Mould SID Code: IFPI AEW36
  • Matrix / Runout: TO90 01
  • Rights Society: MCPS
  • Label Code: LC 13014

Other Versions (1 of 1) View All

Cat# Artist Title (Format) Label Cat# Country Year
TO:90USB Hildur Guðnadóttir Leyfðu Ljósinu(M/Stick, AIFF, Album) Touch TO:90USB UK 2012 Sell This Version


Reviews Show All 2 Reviews

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June 5, 2015

A splendid album


August 11, 2012
It’s time to get even more intimate with Hildur Guðnadóttir. As if her previous works weren’t full of emotion already, Guðnadóttir invites us to sit even closer to her delicate cello. Except this time Guðnadóttir also sings. Free of any post-production and processing, the thirty-five minute piece, Leyfðu Ljósinu (Icelanding for “Allow the Light”) was recorded in one single take. Performed live at the Music Research Centre in University of York on January 2012, Guðnadóttir layers loops of breathy vocals over the pensive cello strings. The acoustics of the space play an important role on the album, with Tony Myatt as the only member present in the audience besides Hildur herself. Myatt, by the way, has previously contributed his technical assistance to pieces by Taylor Deupree, Irene Moon, and Chris Watson. “To be faithful to time and space – elements vital to the movement of sound – this album was recorded entirely live, with no post-tampering of the recordings’ own sense of occasion.” While the first third of the piece is mostly vocal (something I did not expect from this classically-trained Icelandic cellist), Guðnadóttir manages to slowly weave a hypnotic quilt of frequency rich textures until I am lost in her voice. By the time the cello comes in, I forget all about my original anticipation of the solemn bleakness I’ve expected, as in her previously acclaimed works, Without Sinking (Touch, 2009), Iridescene (Touch, 2009), and Mount A (Touch, 2010) – yet here it comes, like a wave of anguish welling up inside my chest. The piece continues to divide: the lower register belonging to the heartache of the cello; the upper to the comfort of the voice, until the cinematic tension peaks at twenty minute mark and slowly recedes in what appears to be full orchestral arrangement. Only that it is Guðnadóttir all alone. A grandiose achievement, experienced best with ones eyes closed at full volume.