GISKE’s "The Sound of Birdsong" doesn’t so much begin as it seeps into the room, like the pale, perpetual twilight of a Norwegian summer night where sleep feels like a theoretical concept. This is a song for the space between the last page of a book and turning off the light; a four-minute float in that strange, conscious stillness when the world is quiet...

A broken teacup, stained with Earl Grey, hums with the same quiet ache as "Jeg Glemmer Dig Aldrig." Tomas Raae and the ethereal voice of Eline Hellerud Åsbakk craft something fragile, like frost on a window pane – beautiful and inherently ephemeral. It’s a love song, maybe, or a lament. It’s hard to pin down the heart of it exactly, which, I suppose, is...