Wardruna’s Birna is an album about bears.
But not just bears in the flesh-and-blood sense, lumbering through Nordic forests. These are bears of myth and legend—beings that represent the cycles of life and death, and the fragile thread that ties us to the natural world. Einar Selvik’s vision, as always, is vast and deeply introspective, yet Birna takes this further. The bear becomes a mirror, reflecting both humanity’s reverence for and estrangement from nature.
Named after the Old Norse word for “she-bear,” Birna is Wardruna’s sixth studio album and feels both like a return and a refinement. Their brilliant Runaljod trilogy (2009-2016) unfolded like sprawling, epic sagas; here, the scope is just as grand, but similar to 2021’s Kvitravn it’s channelled through a simpler, singular focus. Birna‘s atmosphere, grounded in nature, is guided by a steady ursine heartbeat as it carries the weight of ancient stories. At its peak, the result is primal and intimate – like staring into the eyes of an actual bear and finding yourself reflected there: small, awestruck, and profoundly human.
‘Hertan,’ sets this pace purposefully. Selvik’s mystical baritone resonates through a sparse, frosted landscape of droning strings and cardiac-measured percussion. The sound feels less composed and more like it’s being coaxed – a ritual unearthed from beneath layers of time. The deliberate pacing isn’t just a stylistic choice, it’s Wardruna’s entire ethos: Birna asks you to slow down, to breathe it in, to really listen. It’s the kind of album that occupies space, and you’ll need to reciprocate.
Wardruna’s alchemy of ancient and modern textures remains spellbinding. Crackling ice and distant winds blend seamlessly with the earthy resonance of the taglharpa and bukkehorn. Tracks like ‘Jord til Ljos’ and ‘Dvaledraumar’ are not so much songs as they are immersive experiences, pulling you into a liminal space where time stretches and bends. The title track, ‘Birna,’ stands out as Lindy-Fay Hella’s spectral vocals coil around Selvik’s in a haunting dialogue between man and bear, that speaks of loss, defiance, and transformation.
Birna sometimes teeters on the edge of its own restraint, particularly in its longer, quieter moments. But when the energy shifts, as on ‘Skuggehesten,’ it’s visceral. A surge of pounding rhythms and commanding voices cut through the stillness like thunder, a reminder of the unpredictable beast at the album’s core.
Lyrically, Birna delves into Old Norse mythology, using the bear as both protector and symbol. Selvik’s words feel ancient, steeped in animist philosophy and cycles of renewal. Even in translation, the weight of his vision comes through. Still, there’s a sense that some nuances—some of the linguistic magic—remain locked within the original Old Norse and Nynorsk, tantalisingly out of reach for most.
The album’s collaborations add subtle texture. Jonna Jinton’s ethereal field recordings lend ‘Dvaledraumar’ an airy, otherworldly quality, while Hans Fredrik Jacobsen’s willow-bark flute brings a fragile beauty to ‘Tre Tale.’ These contributions don’t feel like decorations—they’re woven in, adding colour and contrast to its already rich and intricate sound.
By the time the final track, ‘Lyfjaberg,’ unfolds in icy breaths and lingering melancholy, you’re left standing in the wreckage of what Birna has dismantled. It’s clear that this album is about far more than bears. It’s about us. About our wounds and capacity to heal. About the worlds we’ve lost and the ones we could still nurture. ‘Lyfjaberg’s closing moments hang in the air like mist, shifting and dissolving. It feels less like an ending and more like an invitation— to tread more carefully, to remember.
Wardruna’s work has never been for the impatient. Birna is no exception. It asks for your time, your attention, and a bit of your soul. In exchange, it offers something rare: a window onto a world both ancient and eternal. Listen hard enough, and maybe you’ll hear what the bear has to say.
“Eit skifte på veg / Eg kjenner kvart steg/ Det kvervande hjulet / Kallar i meg / Gå under jorda”
Change is coming / I feel it in each step / The wheel that turns /Calls on me / To enter the earth. (‘LJOS TIL JORD’)
