Between Homes and Travels: A Sonic Road Trip You Didn’t Know You Needed
Fighterpilot’s Between Homes and Travels is one of those albums that sneaks up on you. Released in 2007 under How Is Annie Records, this Norwegian gem blends electronic beats, rock grit, and jazzy undertones into something that feels like post-rock with a twist of indie rebellion. It’s not perfect—sometimes it stumbles over itself—but when it clicks, oh man, does it ever.
Let’s talk about Anders Kojen for a sec. The guy plays guitar, bass, drums, piano, keyboards, sings… basically, if it makes noise, he’s probably doing it here. And somehow, it doesn’t feel like too much. Then there’s Elling Snowbird adding haunting cello lines, which give the whole thing an emotional depth you don’t always expect from music this experimental. Liv Læssøe’s cover art? Simple but striking, kinda like the album itself.
Now onto the tracks. There are some real standouts, but two stuck with me long after I hit pause: “Just Put Your Head on the Pillow and Sleep” and “At the Opera.”
“Just Put Your Head on the Pillow and Sleep” starts off slow, almost hesitant, like someone trying to convince themselves they’re okay. But then the layers build—soft piano chords, distant drumming, and these swells of strings that just grab your chest. By the time the vocals kick in (yes, also by Anders), it’s less of a song and more of a vibe. Like, imagine lying awake at 3 AM thinking about everything you’ve ever done wrong, but instead of spiraling, you kinda... accept it. That’s this track.
Then there’s “At the Opera,” which is wild because it doesn’t sound anything like what you’d expect from its title. No grandiose arias or dramatic crescendos here. Instead, it’s got this quirky, off-kilter rhythm, like jazz musicians jamming in a smoky basement while someone accidentally knocks over a stack of chairs. The cello adds this melancholy edge, though, keeping things grounded even as the rest of the instrumentation goes slightly bonkers. Honestly, it reminds me of being lost in a city where nobody speaks your language—you’re confused, maybe a little scared, but secretly loving every second of it.
The album repeats a few songs toward the end (cough “Skip the Casino”), which feels either lazy or intentional, depending on how generous you’re feeling. Either way, it gives the record a cyclical vibe, like coming back home after traveling forever. Or maybe Fighterpilot just ran out of ideas. Who knows?
What’s wild about Between Homes and Travels is how it manages to feel both sprawling and intimate. It’s like flipping through old photos of places you’ve never been—it’s familiar yet foreign, comforting yet unsettling.
Final thought? This album might not change your life, but it’ll definitely make you reconsider how you pack your suitcase next time you leave town.
