Ever since I heard Nasheim’s part of the split with Angantyr on Northern Silence Productions going all the way back to 2007, I wanted to hear more from this band. The 25 min epic atmospheric black metal journey presented by Nasheim elevated that release. Yet, Erik Grahn, the sole member and the only creative force Nasheim has ever known had to overcome his painful self-doubt on the way to releasing Solens Vemod. It took him six or seven long years. Many have probably forgotten Nasheim even exists. And the vast majority probably never even heard of this band. Hopefully the first proper full-length will change that, and I hope my review does the part. As much as I anticipated and was let down by the recent Woods of Desolation on Northern Silence, Nasheim’s Solens Vemod hit all the right notes and was well worth the wait.

Erik Grahn can think of his music whatever he pleases, but to me the most nascent Nasheim’s strength is the ability to paint ominous moody pictures without the overbearing miserable component. En nyckel till drömmars grind puts you on this endless depressive road, the mid-pace circling ravens’ riffs, pulsating pitter-patter drums and croaking voice not undergoing any changes for the first 6 min. Why hurry when you got the whole lifetime of disappointment ahead of you? But then a lifeline is thrown to a listener out of nowhere and the most somber, yet beautiful, pronounced melody caps the song off. Such is Nasheim on Solens Vemod, take you to the brink with seemingly more brutal beginning of Jag fyller min bägare med tomhet, but provide tender vibrant melodies mid-way, only to devolve back to the ominous stoicism presented at the beginning of En nyckel till drömmars grind. Tremolo melody seems to be simpler, direct and more engaging in Att av ödets trådar väva sorg, but then the middle of that composition drags you through the muck, returning to melodies on double bass support and more alarmist guitar tone. Vördnad opens with a strong bass foundation and rustling cymbal, melody touches being somewhere between Moonlight Sonata and craziness of Shining. Vördnad grows into the palpable sense of longing, and then collapses into the arms of lullabying violin and/or cello, or some string instrument anyway.

One key to Nasheim’s success is its definitive slightly diffuse, but never repulsive or grinding, guitar tone, but even more so it is Erik Grahn’s ability to channel unbridled uncovered personal pain, while observing the lovely nature surroundings around him. Thus, to me anyway, Nasheim is a combination of Alcest going back to Le Secret, lonely shoegazery and profound Scandinavian sense of coldness – the combination providing uniqueness and edge. If self-doubts tend to produce results like Solens Vemod, then I am a believer.