Mi and L'au | Review
imbued with a spookiness, fragility, and beauty unique to fairytales
Gauzy, sparse folk sounds
It's folly to think that in order to make a groundbreaking record, it has to be overtly weird, 'modern'-sounding, and Mi and L'au prove this to defiantly understated effect. He is French, she Finnish, a one-time model. Having met and fallen in love, the pair retreated to an isolated cabin in Finland, which is where the album was recorded. Given their story, it's no surprise that these songs are imbued with a spookiness, fragility and beauty unique to fairytales and folklore. Mi's voice is whispery and exposed (a little like Stina Nordenstam), L'au's brittle and sticky. Instrumentation is largely minimal (guitar, bass, glockenspiel), skeletal even - though when
fleshed out with strings, it reaches a yearning fullness that recalls Gorecki's Symphony Of Sorrowful Songs (as on Word In Your Belly). What a find.