Sigrid, Sucker Punch album review: Norwegian pop star has a crystalline self-assurance

In 1871, Henrik Ibsen coined the Norwegian word “friluftsliv”. He first used it in a poem about a young man in quest of “free life air” for his thoughts, but these days Norwegians use the word to describe the natural high generated by a bracing hike, an icy river plunge or the scent of a summer meadow.

It’s an unfiltered and bittersweet euphoria that 22-year-old Sigrid chases throughout a pop debut that sounds as fresh-faced and athletic as she looks.

For those who’ve missed the backstory, this young woman from Alesund (on Norway’s west coast) has been making music for years and was signed by Island in 2016. But she came to prominence with the astonishingly good, 2017 song “Don’t Kill My Vibe”. Released eight months before the #MeToo movement began, the song nailed Sigrid’s fury following a songwriting session in which she had been patronised by older men.

“You shut me down, you like the control,” she sang, with crystalline self assurance. “You speak to me like I’m a child/ Try to hold it down, I know the answer/ I can shake it off and you feel threatened by me.” Synths hit wonky tones beneath her as her pure, folky vocal evolved into a furious, throaty snarl with snatches of punchy rap. Accompanied by just a piano, her performance of the song on Later… with Jools Holland was one of the music TV highlights of the year. Her frank, freckled face shone and shifted with every perfectly nailed note and thought as she stretched her arms wide then squatted low and shook off the dated, sexist expectations placed on her.

The off-kilter dance sound and assured millennial attitude saw Sigrid aligned with acts like Maggie Rogers and Christine and the Queens. It’s no surprise she won BBC Music’s Sound of 2018 Award. Since then she has released the massive, real-love-meets-Hollywood-expectation-themed bangers “Strangers” and “Sucker Punch” (both, like “Don’t Kill My Vibe”, co-written with 39-year old Martin Sjolie).

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At her best, Sigrid throws out precision-tooled high notes like icicle javelins into vast, blue Scandi-produced skies. Then she growls like an Icelandic volcano preparing to disrupt western civilisation until we sort ourselves out.

But on this album’s filler tracks she does warble on like, well, a woman inspired by the mid-tempo meanderings of Adele and the suspiciously fast-tracked elations of Coldplay. We can all be seduced by the emotional aspirations of both of those acts. But you’re more conscious of their tics when somebody else is imitating them. So I winced at the (beautifully executed but too slick) slide guitar on “Sucker Punch” and the stadium-blocked chord progression of “Don’t Feel Like Crying”.

But l enjoyed the muted, Afro-tinged authenticity of “Level Up” and the conscious, pasty-girl reggae of “Business Dinners” (on which she refuses to be an industry angel) and I loved the Robyn-esque rush of “Basic” (which sees her yearning to shed love’s complications).

Sigrid has a raw energy and emotional briskness that can make you feel like you’re doing aerobics in neon leg warmers atop a pristine mountain. Pure friluftsliv.