Born of a beauty in brokenness - Brimheim’s lyrical fragility glints in the light, whilst weeping grunge-guitar riffs crash on the shore. Home of the breaking waves is the literal translation of Brimheim. A name borrowed from her mother in honour of her Faroese side, and a nod to the emotional deluge inherent in Brimheim’s distinctive style.

Witchy, oozing, tender – the Sapphic Goth-Mom of your sweet dreams?! ;)

The music industry’s response to Brimheim crashing onto the scene certainly suggests so. Brimheim’s debut album can’t hate myself into a different shape was released in January of 2022 to critical acclaim, delivering the prowess and originality promised in the previous year by her EP Myself Misspelled.

It’s a skillful and confident album with an overpowering, cyclical rhythm. Direct confessionals layer over jogging beats, before breaking open into expansive and ethereal realms, that then softly fold back in on themselves.

The self-aware story-telling sees Brimheim often at her most splintered, when the music arrangement is at its most celestial. Soft-girl laments and folky bird-song serenades are aptly placed to sooth, in-between anguished anthems - gnarled and cracked. Dissonant in places, piercingly to the point in others.

Brimheim is open about the ‘dark muddy place’ from which she began writing the album alone, before a profoundly successful collaboration with producer Søren Buhl Lassen. After only eight months in the studio! they emerged with the 11 swamp flowers that would create can’t hate myself into a different shape.

The ferocious momentum has continued from there. With joy (and some astonishment) the Nordic music industry has welcomed Brimheim in. Known already for her searing honesty and warmth, unflinching advocacy of mental illness, queer authenticity, and anti perfection-culture.

Though really… live performance is where Brimheim is fully unleashed. Ready or not - the waves of the cackling rock guitar will break over you, whilst that vocal range takes you anywhere it damn well pleases! Leaving behind just the salty traces of Brimheim’s signature and truthful, tender melancholia.