The Swedish music scene has long stood as a valued contributor to pop music, from ABBA, Europe, Ace of Base and the Cardigans of old, to the Knife, Peter Bjorn and John and Jens Lekman descendents of today. But these acts always manage to share a flamboyant, quirky or ethereal aesthetic. So it seems from outside the theater, sitting on the curb, we hear the energized finger-picking and jaunting vocals of Kristian Matsson: The Tallest Man on Earth. An ironically monolithic moniker from someone of small stature both literally (look up videos—he's short and lean) and sonically when compared to the flair of the Swedish scene. Musically, however, the title is apt.
Though a comparison to Bob Dylan is cliché and often disregarded, it cannot be avoided; not so much in their instrumentation, but the vocal similarities are uncanny at times. Seemingly organic in their musings, both also give off an aura of omniscience as they wield their simple acoustics and vivid imagery with equal mastery.
On his debut, Shallow Graves, pastoral imagery of bluebirds, sparrows and ravens, along with streams, blizzards, snakes and gardeners drove home the unassuming and organic sound. It was a triumph of coy beauty recorded on a single guitar without studio production. On The Wild Hunt, Matsson takes the liberty of expanding his simplistic songwriting prowess by driving much more emotive and expansive melodies—even resorting to piano on the enjoyably slushy closer, ""Kids on the Run."" As for lyrics, the pastoral imagery still resonates; only more often than not it is used as a backdrop for more frequent personal perspectives.
The climax comes throughout the middle of the album with the declarative, thumping ""You're Going Back,"" where his poetic offerings and emotional freedoms are shared with a loved one, only to be deserted, prompting one of Matsson's more animated lyricisms as through gritted teeth he imitates his lover's parting pleas with dread: ""She said dri- ver- please / Don't go that / Fucking way."" ""King of Spain"" rides a galloping melody as he gives subtle, indirect tribute to Bob Dylan (""I wear my boots of Spanish leather"") and narrates a satisfyingly fantastical life abroad. The sparsest melody and most engrossing poetry comes on ""Love is All,"" the sentimental hallmark of the album. His most emotive singing on the choruses backs the torment of the verses, where he is torn with his authority, ""Well I walk upon the river like it's easier than land / Evil's in my pocket and your will is in my hand / Oh, your will is in my hand / And I'll throw it in the current that I stand upon so still / Love is all, from what I've heard, but my heart's learned to kill.""
The difference from Matsson's first release to his second is this increased sense of self-awareness as a songwriter. He was able to take his ability to create abstract sketches and metaphorical meanings from Shallow Graves and insert a first-person for listeners to sympathize with by adding life to the sketches. The melodies follow suit becoming more endearing, distinct and unquestionable fits as vehicles for each song's narrative.
All of Matsson's prior work proclaimed his apt songwriting and guitar abilities. He has always been notable in every sense of the ideal behind traditional singer-songwriters. With The Wild Hunt, he manages noticeable improvement, resulting in 35 minutes of humble folk that still has an unwavering yet seemingly unintended ability to keep you engrossed and cathartic. It feels like an early benchmark in what is hopefully a still-blossoming career, where the Dylan references will lead to questions of whether or not he will go electric. For now, though, he remains the simplest of songwriters: an unassuming Swede of small stature willing to belt over an acoustic, which—lucky for us—still provides no gaps in the music-making process for his talents to hide.
