Ásgeir Julia
Tracks: Quiet Life; Against the Current; Smoke; Ferris Wheel; Universe Beyond; Julia; Sugar Clouds; Stranger; In the Wee Hours; Into the Sun

Label: One Little Independent.

On Julia, Ásgeir reaches a quiet but significant turning point. Now on his fifth studio album, the Icelandic folktronica artist steps out from the long shadow of his father, Einar Georg Einarsson, whose poetry shaped much of Ásgeir’s earlier catalogue (often translated into English by collaborators such as John Grant). For the first time, the lyrics are entirely his own. The result is an album that feels less like a reinterpretation and more like a reckoning.

At 33, Ásgeir writes with an unflinching eye, revisiting past regrets and confronting the quiet dislocation of living up to expectations. Against the Current sets the tone, its insistent drum pattern and brass arrangement by Samúel Jón Samúelsson underscoring a battle for self-definition: “I’ve been in a battle / Waging wars on the inner me / I’m the hero and the enemy.” It is a declaration of autonomy — a reclaiming of identity after years of external pressures.

Self-examination continues in Smoke, a sparse, banjo-laced meditation on losing touch with one’s inner voice. Minimal production heightens the sense of emotional distance as Ásgeir confesses that he had silenced his instincts for so long they stopped speaking back. Yet hope flickers throughout the record. The gently buoyant Ferris Wheel dreams of a slower, seaside life, its soft keyboards and Americana hues suggesting renewal. Even when the album’s arrangements feel restrained—occasionally to a fault, as if straining against their own compression — they maintain a warm, organic intimacy. Improvised cello from Nathaniel Smith and a soft-spoken horn section (trombone, sax, trumpet) lend the songs a naturalistic glow, while a lighter touch on synths nudges Ásgeir closer to folk-pop than folktronica.

The title track stands as the album’s emotional centrepiece. Drawing from a classic Icelandic poem about a woman returning from the dead to reunite with her lover, Julia is cinematic yet intimate. With little more than an acoustic guitar, a pedal steel and Ásgeir’s luminous falsetto, myth and memory blur into something timeless. Universe Beyond imagines the character’s final thoughts before she walks into a lake, a steel guitar illuminating mournful lines that shimmer with autumnal imagery.

Elsewhere, Quiet Life showcases Ásgeir’s emerging lyrical confidence, its metaphors of water and wind suggesting fragmentation and reintegration. Not every line lands with equal weight — the late-night regret of In The Wee Hours feels comparatively prosaic — but even these moments contribute to the album’s overarching theme: aging out of heedless youth and grappling with deeper meaning. As Ásgeir himself has explained, Julia is about losing his way and struggling to find it again.

Musically, the album drifts rather than drives. Few tracks ever truly break free, and even the peppier moments hold back from fully cutting loose. Yet that gentleness is also its strength. The 7/8 sway of Sugar Clouds turns complex rhythm into tender contentment, basking in simple pleasures. It’s easy to let the album wash over you — though beneath its surface lies a reservoir of wistfulness and emotional depth that rewards closer attention.

Ultimately, Julia finds Ásgeir taking stock of where he has been and quietly charting a path forward. Writing from the heart and embracing simplicity as a virtue, he gives voice to the fragile, often halting journey toward self-understanding. His flawless, soft tenor remains luminous throughout — reason enough to listen — but it is the sound of an artist finally speaking in his own words that makes Julia feel like a true breakthrough.