In Das Geisterschiff, Nordstahl has created a song that is very disturbing- a song that sticks in your skin and leaves there. this does not sound like a song, and rather a midnight confusion mumbled along through centuries of sea fog.
There is an almost physical density to the German vocals. In the one consonant you can taste the repentance, how some word almost breaks down in their emotion. It is not singing alone--it is narrative in the most primitive manner, when the means of speech is an instrument of sorrow in itself. Supportive of the idea that you may not be speaking German, nonetheless the sense oozes through your bones.
The remarkable thing, however, is the reflection in the music of the narrative it is expressing. Those few spry haunting lines are the passing of flimsy straddling of tide and skeleton water, and the orchestral majesty tirelessly beats the keel like waves onboard the wrecked vessel. The cello playing, is especially devastating--it cries out in such a manner that your chest aches.
You cannot put this in your background music headphones on your way to work. The piece Das Geisterschiff requires you to listen fully to its story that captures you and transports you to its world of endless fog and fallen oars. It is the type of music that causes you to sit in your car after listening to it because you need to process what had just taken place.
Here Nordstahl has made something really haunting, a work that has an inkling that there is beauty in the dark, poetry in the doldrums. It is folk music, devoid of comfort, reinterpreted marine mythology, any person who has felt trapped by his choice would appreciate. It is the music to listen to at the small hours, moments when you are strong enough to deal with the unpleasant facts about yourself. Brilliant and brutal in equal measure.
