Album Review: Ísland by Voder – A Sonic Postcard from Another World
You ever listen to music that just feels like a place? That’s what Voder did with Ísland, an ambient electronic masterpiece released in 2009 on Distance Recordings. It’s not just an album—it’s more like stepping into Iceland without leaving your room. The tracks are named after real spots, and man, they don’t just sound like them; they are them. Listening feels like wandering through glaciers, waterfalls, and volcanic craters with headphones glued to your ears.
Let me tell ya about two tracks that stuck in my head for days—no, weeks. First up is “Jokulsarlon.” This one hits different. You know those moments when you’re staring out at something so vast it makes you feel tiny? That’s this track. The synths stretch out endlessly, kind of cold but also comforting, like the icebergs floating in the lagoon itself. There’s this faint hum underneath everything, almost imperceptible, but once you catch it, it’s like… yeah, that’s the heartbeat of the earth right there. I swear, every time I hear it, I wanna grab a coat and go somewhere remote, even though I live nowhere near Iceland.
Then there’s “Seljalandsfoss,” which honestly feels like standing under a waterfall without getting soaked (thank god). It starts off soft, almost shy, but then these cascading notes come crashing down, over and again. And yet—it’s not overwhelming. It’s meditative. Like, if water could talk, this would be its voice. Every loop pulls you deeper into its rhythm until you forget where you are. Honestly, I’ve had this track on repeat while zoning out during late-night drives. Feels illegal how calming it is.
The rest of the album keeps the vibe alive—“Reykjadalur” warms you up like geothermal steam, “Kerið” has this eerie beauty that reminds me of walking around a crater edge, and “Vatnajökull” wraps things up with a slow, glacier-like grandeur. But it’s those first two tracks that really gut-punched me emotionally. They weren’t just songs—they were experiences.
Here’s the thing: Ísland isn’t perfect. Some parts drag a little longer than they need to, and sure, some might call it background music. But who cares? Sometimes life needs background music. Sometimes we need albums that let us disappear for a bit.
And here’s the kicker—Iceland never seemed all that interesting to me before hearing this record. Now? I can’t stop thinking about booking a flight. Guess Voder didn’t just make an album; he made me want to change my plans. Sneaky bastard.
