Ånon Egeland’s MXXIV feels like a personal diary set to music, each track carrying with it fragments of memory, mentorship, and tradition. Over sixteen pieces, he leans on the Hardanger fiddle, standard fiddle, jew’s harp, and overtone flute to bring both familiar and less-heard tunes into focus. The playing is measured and thoughtful, never rushing to impress but instead giving space to the sounds to breathe.
The album opens with several fiddle tunes such as Stevtone etter Andres K. Rysstad and Ein av Peters Veum. These pieces carry a quiet intimacy, their resonant tunings producing a shimmer that lingers between phrases. They are not showpieces but conversations, reminders that much of this music was born in smaller rooms and gatherings. Tracks like Jamtaren and Noralaupen add variety, with the former moving with a steady rhythm and the latter opening up into a slightly more expansive atmosphere.
As the album continues, livelier material comes through. Polka etter Treskaren and Trippar etter Mads Brobakken bring a sense of lift, suggesting their origins in dance settings. The bowing here is direct and earthy, giving these tunes an energy that contrasts nicely with the more reflective earlier tracks. Myklendingen follows in this spirit but with a looser flow, showing how the same instrument can turn from driving rhythm to gentle sway.
The middle of the album shifts toward voice and jew’s harp, with Tellef Glupes vise standing out for its straightforward delivery. The jew’s Harp pieces, including Fanteladda and Vals etter Jon Løite, work as short reflections, their buzzing timbre adding texture and grounding the record in another side of the tradition. Songs such as Kom te me and Far min han bandt tri hjartor på ein tråd reveal how even simple lines can hold warmth and weight when performed with care.
The final stretch brings the listener back toward stillness. Stevtone reappears in a new form before Halling etter Olaf Frøysaa lifts the energy once more. The closing track, Med sorg og salte tårer, is striking in its plainness. Played on overtone flute, it has an unadorned quality that lets the sadness of the text come through clearly, ending the record on a note of reflection rather than resolution.
What ties MXXIV together is its balance between preservation and expression. Egeland presents the tunes with respect for their roots but allows his own phrasing and choices to shape them. The result is a collection that feels both old and new, rooted in tradition yet open enough to invite the listener into his own journey with the music.
