Klöve - Klöve (2026) [Hi-Res]

Tracklist

01. Silhuett
02. Tiliver
03. Melodi
04. Lucky
05. Comb
06. Motlys
07. Sequence, Modular
08. Torshov Smiler
09. Outro

The name on the sleeve belongs to guitarist and pedal steel player Øyvind Kløve Kjernlie, an Oslo sideman whose steel work has graced records by Ole Kirkeng and Emelie Hollow, here stepping forward with a self-titled debut of his own compositions. The press notes reach for jazz lineage, but that isn’t what I hear. This is folk music at heart — instrumental, unhurried, and built on pure melody from first note to last. The pedal steel owns this album, not as a country signifier but as its singing voice, and around it Kjernlie has assembled a quartet that understands exactly when to play and when to leave the air alone.

Opener ‘Silhuett’ sets off like a long-distance drive with the roof down, all open road and easy momentum — a super track and an ideal statement of intent. ‘Melodi’ then pulls a surprise, leaning into prog territory with a welcome streak of noise that only deepens the tune beneath it. Throughout, drummer Vegard Staum impresses, propulsive without ever crowding the melodies, alongside Sander Eriksen Nordahl on guitar and guitar synth and bassist Markus Hafsund Gundersen.

‘Motlys’ is the record’s most affecting moment, carrying a country-western movie tinge that suits the band’s cinematic instincts, and if you think you hear a violin, trust your ears: Håkon Aase, familiar from Mathias Eick’s group, guests on this track alone. ‘Lucky’ shifts the mood into soulful, laid-back summer territory as keyboardist Håvard Aufles joins for the album’s second half. At the same time, ‘Comb’ opens with an edge before smoothing itself out beautifully. Best of all may be ‘Sequence, Modular ’, where Aufles’s analogue arsenal comes alive — a Moog-drenched electronic excursion with the spirit of Tonto’s Expanding Head Band about it, and quite simply amazing. ‘Torshov Smiler’ tips its hat to the band’s home patch of Oslo before ‘Outro’ closes the forty-one minutes with admirable brevity.

Recorded and mixed by Christian Engfelt with a real sense of the room, this is a debut that refuses to declare its allegiances — and is all the stronger for it.