Myrkur – Spine

Review

The first sound on Spine feels like stepping into fog — a voice, ancient yet new, reaching through mist and memory. Myrkur (the project of Danish artist Amalie Bruun) has always thrived in liminal spaces, between the ethereal and the brutal, and here she refines that balance into something achingly intimate. Gone is much of the black metal fury that defined her earlier work; in its place is an atmospheric tapestry of folk, choral, and ambient textures that move with a haunted tenderness.

Songs like “Like Humans” and “Mothlike” carry a stark beauty — melodies float like fragile breath, grounded by production that feels tactile, almost ritualistic. There’s a deep sense of rebirth at the album’s core, a reckoning with motherhood, identity, and vulnerability that seeps into every echo of her layered vocals. Even in its quietest moments, Spine vibrates with tension — as if serenity itself could splinter at any second.

What’s remarkable is how complete this evolution feels. Myrkur doesn’t abandon darkness; she transforms it, reshaping it into something luminous and human. Spine isn’t just an album — it’s a reclamation, a spell sung softly over the ashes. - Eli