This piece was originally published for Tastemakers Music Magazine.
AURORA’s artistry has always lived just outside of the mainstream and in the great outdoors. The eccentric Swedish singer-songwriter’s catalogue often centers her angelic, timbrical voice over sweeping imagery of rocky mountains, foggy beaches, and frozen landscapes (ironically accompanied by an appearance on the Frozen 2 soundtrack). She has always possessed potential for superstardom, but never the level of imagination to reach such success. But her newest album finally enchants in all the right ways. Concocting an avant-garde pop pantheon of gods and goddesses, horror and holiness, synths and symphonies, The Gods We Can Touch clearly sculpts AURORA as both a worthy narrator to our own stories and a desperately needed sound in the all-too-contrived world of pop.
Golden-threaded throughout the record are Greek mythological and Christian religious tales from a distant past, mulled into the very human lessons to which we all relate. It’s a strategy that’s both deeply personal and broadly accessible to those of us who subscribe to escapism as an emotional relief (and even more so for those who grew up glued to Percy Jackson books). “Cure For Me” relates the story of Panacea, the Greek goddess of universal health, to shattered expectations and finding fulfillment. Meanwhile, “Artemis” takes its name to heart, laying out an empowering anthem of a girl as dangerous and all-knowing as the moon is bright (“What will you do when she drinks the sea? / Drown her in sorrow, or let her be free”), backed by the vastly underutilized bandoneon and a tricky guitar pluck. Later on, “This Could Be A Dream” weaves the story of Morpheus, the god of dreams, with celestial glim; it’s a charming and introspective take on getting swept away in the moment.
The production on The Gods We Can Touch also elevates AURORA’s burgeoning relationship with the dance floor. Picture the best synth-pop elements of Madonna, Björk, MARINA, and Fleetwood Mac gathered around a blazing bonfire in a forest and dancing brazenly through the night. But instead of allowing her work to be overthrown by all these distinctive references, AURORA keeps her Scandinavian musical perspective and icy vocals centered in the windstorm, creating a body of work that is excitingly referential yet distinctly her own. Her cross-genre appeal is best seen in a track where she speaks to the fleeting nature of love,”A Temporary High,” where AURORA crafts a paean to the ‘80s, a cross-genre revival of booming reverb and rebellious spirit. Latin rhythm elements in “The Innocent,” mountainesque witch-calling in “Blood In The Wine,” and a slow-rolling ‘50s swoon tune in “A Little Place Called The Moon” all seem musically individual from one another. But weaved together through strong storytelling, wintry synth harmonies, harmonizing chamber vocals, and idiosyncratically divine percussion elements, the record listens like a ’90s album pushed to today: nostalgic, cohesive, and new in all the right ways.
In The Gods We Can Touch, we witness AURORA not just perfecting her already evident strengths, but taking risks and pushing her own boundaries further. “Exist For Love,” the album’s lead single, was notably the musician’s first-ever love song—a choice far from that of the typical artist. She takes a break from the dance floor here, gently matching rolling orchestrals and gondola-ride-esque instrumentals with a tumbling beauty in her singing “love” in the chorus. This track speaks to the enchantingly subtle storytelling of the album as a whole, glowing through its ability to help listeners become true believers in love’s power to make even the gods, and all of us, feel at home.
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