Oslo-born pianist, composer, and organist Runa Viggen released her sophomore album “Open Plains” on February 12th. Her debut, ambár (2022), earned solid reviews and festival play across Norway and established her genre-crossing approach as something worth paying attention to. For this one, she relocated to Los Angeles, brought in Larry Steen on bass and Chris Wabich on drums, and self-produced the whole thing. The concept is a healing journey – seven tracks framed by “Amaranth,” named for a mythical flower that never fades, and “Rubicon,” meaning the point of no return. Everything in between traces the ground between those two places. The music pulls from jazz, classical, fusion, and progressive rock without fully belonging to any of them, which is very much the point.
This is a musically nutritious album. It’s incredibly harmonically adventurous, and it’s daring in its approach. It’s not a jazz album to be heard in a somber jazz bar; this is, like the name implies, an album like the “Open Plains” – it’s to be experienced with attentiveness and an open heart because it tells such rich stories with a virtuosic sense of melody and harmony. This album is living proof that one can still tell new stories with traditional musical textures, that it’s not necessary to design new sounds to tell new stories. Music in its infinite depth has infinite stories to be told, and one only needs to be truly connected spiritually to it and to the musicians engaged in the same conversation to tell the stories of our lives as they unfold. This spiritual connection to music and the power of improvisation has long been embraced by great jazz musicians, and Runa Viggen continues that trend here.
Starting with “Bury Me Standing” – this tune could be taught in a masterclass about dynamic range in composition. The way the rhythm section accompanies the piano in such a beautifully intuitive yet surprising manner is a beauty to behold. The way it evolves across the tune and the power with which the musicians return to the main head melody is breathtaking and has such intensity and vigor that perfectly complement the harmonic choices of the tune.
“The Tears of My Mother” is not a tune for the faint of heart; it will most likely make you shed some very dramatic tears, but with that being said, I still highly recommend listening to this outdoors, with the blowing of the tears away from your face – that’s at least how I imagine this song is meant to be listened to and that’s how I listened to it though it wasn’t planned. Runa Viggen has such a soft touch on the piano for this song, it’s like the piano was strung with her own heart strings. It’s so sorrowful and mournful, yet reminiscent of simpler times and sweet motherly love. There are so many personal details in here that it feels like every time I listen to the song, it says something new. It’s a truly magical performance, and I feel lucky that it has been recorded and that I get to experience it.
“Rayan” captures the attention immediately with its more playful sense of rhythm. It’s more on the side of jazz-fusion, though with none of the electric elements that are so strongly associated with that genre. The melodies here are more contemporary, with very modern melodic choices. There is so much music here, and it rides that line between carefully crafted moments and others of chemistry-driven improvised sections. The bass solo here deserves a special shoutout for adding to the melodic content tastefully with no unnecessary flash.
“Open Plains” is the kind of album that asks something of you, and pays you back generously if you meet it halfway. Viggen said she wanted to compose without genre constraints, to breathe freely – and that freedom is audible from the first track to the last. With ambár, she announced herself, and with this record, she’s made good on the promise. It’ll be worth watching where she goes from here.
