I feel like running. Fast.

I feel like running. Fast.

It’s been seven months of a hardships and sadness. Loss and grief. In my mind the stories from these months are so close. They lie in the surface of my thoughts most of my days. And I grow so tired of them, and the desire to change them, or to reverse what has happened hasn’t left me yet. I think I understand how denial becomes a way of navigating through a new life. A life without parts of you that has left. Holes.
Taking the easy way, using the clichés so worn out by our lack of better analogies or explanations. But everyone who has a similar hole, someone who’s also lost parts of themselves – they understand, they don’t need you to explain.
Loss is an integral part of life. Anxiety too. A feeling of panic. Of tremendous weight upon you. And acceptance might be the last thing you want to resort to. But it doesn’t happen that very same day. It won’t let you, not just yet. Float in the dark night sky filled with heavy grey clouds. Weep. Mourn.

I’m not sure if putting my weight on you would do you any good, and I’m not sure if I’m entitled at all to say that what I carry is a weight to speak of. But still. These encounters with loss make up my horizon today, such as yours make up your.

I feel like running. Fast. Throwing many things away. I guess loss does that to us. At least I feel that. To rid myself of the things I don’t want in my life. The darkness. And where does acceptance come in? How do I harmonize myself with the inevitable. To lose someone. To lose. How can we accept its part in our lives? Just avoid the thought all together? It seems like the common solution. But that’s when it hurts the most. When you don’t expect to lose. When you’re turned the other way. It just crushes you. Sweeps you off of your feet. When you embrace the sweetness of life, a handful of sand is thrown into your eyes, and a kick at your feet throws you at the ground.

I feel like running. And I can run. Put my shoes on. Put Justice For All… on. Just run. That’s not denial. That’s just breathing.

I feel like diving. Dive to the bottom. Look at what’s down there. Hold my breath. Feel the cold water stir my pulse and heart and mind. That’s freedom. Not denying. That’s an embrace.

What I’m trying to say is probably that I’m looking for a constructive path to navigate through, and accept the toils we meet. We can’t avoid it, and we shouldn’t.

Live from Landmark

Live from Landmark

Line Ira who runs the Perfect Sounds Forever concept in Bergen invited me to warm up for Jeffrey Lewis & Los Bolts when they came to Bergen. So I brought my fathers Alhambra nylon string guitar and played a few songs from The Course of Things and Our Insignificance (iTunes, Spotify) that I released back in february just after my father passed.

I’ve been struggling a little whether I should «use» my father’s death in my music, and really had to think things through: I don’t want to prostitute myself or the people I love to stand on some stage. But life events like these is exactly why music has become so important, it is a therapy and for my own sake and if someone finds any joy or comfort in it then I am grateful. When I sing I sing about the things that puzzle me or occupy my mind. For the last eight or nine years or so my fathers illness has played a big part in my life, and the last six months of his life was a true nightmare. Emotionally it was so for me aswell, but what hurt me was to see how much he hurt, and the terror and angst that tortured him up until he left for good.

The last week he lived I lived in the nursing home with him, sleeping in the room next door. When I wasn’t by his bed side I was in my room, recording. The four EPs that came out winter/spring this year was all recorded there. So that I will never forget that time. So that I will never forget how much I loved my father. After he passed this has become increasingly more important to me to remember. His girlfriend derailed the minute my dad couldn’t speak anymore and revealed a side of human nature I thought I’d never get to experience. That ring she put on his finger a month before he died – little did I know she would use that to take every material thing away from me and my brother. How I wish my father could see what is happening now. What happened there in his room when he was too medicated and sick to stay awake. When faced with greed and mental sickness of this kind I’ve had to focus on what matters the most: the life I have, the life my father had, the life me and him had together. In objects there is no trace of that. I remember my dad talking about his love for Fernando Pessoa – the power of imagination. But it takes a lot, a lot.

Well. Anyway. Here’s a song that sums up a few things about fatherhood, childhood, death and family.

Only Color True available digitally


It’s never an easy task to get the overview on the my recordings, and this doesn’t make it any easier. Sorry.

Since the fall of Myspace and AmieStreet this release has yet not been released on Spotify and iTunes, and it is now finally available there. 19 songs, some of them also available on Vamoose!

The songs exclusive to this release is:
Holes in the World, Windmill Eyes, How I Change, Chasing Feet (A Sunday and two hours), Only Color True, Feeling Green, A Glance, Surfer’s Morning, Let Me Bleed, Short of Breath, My Name is Death.

All these recordings were recorded entirely by me on various locations, except Holes in the World that was recorded in Lars Wiik’s home, and was done by him.

Winds and Waves out now

Winds and Waves artwork

The second release from my time in Florø with my father. This is a release consisting of five instrumental pieces played on fingerpicked nylon string guitar.

The Course of Things and Our Insignificance out now

Artwork The Course of Things and Our Insignificance

Recorded during the month of December 2015. Since november 2015 my father has been on his last, sick with cancer, and he has been forced to commit himself to a nursery home in Florø. During this time I’ve left my home in Bergen to stay with my father, and his wife. We’re watching out for father on shifts, and during the time I’ve had by myself I’ve making music and recording. This album is a result of this.

The first track is a mellow version of the Burzum classic, and a favorite of mine. I’ve rearranged it to a open tuning (dadga#d, all other songs on this release are also using this tuning) and arranged a vocal melody for it.

The second song is one of my fathers favorite songs and was written by Don McLean and released on his American Pie album.

The last two tracks were written by me, and also revolve around the themes I’m surrounded by these days. Memories. Death. The future. Fatherhood. Childhood.

My Hometown released digitally

My Hometown released digitally

Got hours of music just lying around on the computer, so this might count as another step to make it accessible.

My Hometown was written, I think, in 2003 or 4 and recorded maybe in 2005 together with Bosse Litsheim of Ai Phoenix​ on percussion and backing vocals and Jørgen Sandvik – artistside​ of Real Ones on mandolin and backing vocals. I sang, plucked the guitar and played the lap steel guitar on this one.

We travelled together with our instruments to Høyanger located by the Sognefjord. Me and Jørgen stayed in the late Bønna’s house (if I remember correctly). I think we were there for a week and recorded in the old gun club house. It seems like forever ago, and judging by the lyrics it is forever ago also. A year earlier I had discovered the Bonnie “Prince” Billy record Master And Everyone, and I was also pretty much soaked in compulsive Elliott Smith listening, finally finding something else than old country-blues, british folk from the 60s and Bob Dylan.

Its been a long road since then, and this was my first in a studio, and a first together with other musicians. I had shown Jørgen my four-track demos of this song and a few others and he wanted us to take it a step further. Bosse planned things, and made it happen.

Steps Leading Nowhere — The Story

My father has always been a brave soul. Never afraid to explore what has been unfamiliar and unknown up till where he has gotten in his life.

This song was written by my ailing father. Sick with cancer my father set out on a song writing journey a few years back, and wrote around fifty songs over the course of two or three years. Being a great outlet and therapy for him, it also gave a new insight for me into my fathers thoughts and mind.

Here is my version paired with my fathers version.

It has been my intention for a good time now to record the entire collection of his songs, and I have tried several times to find the right expression for recording them. This might my strongest card till now, and as my father only closes in on his dreaded enemy I more than ever feel the urge to finish this project.

The words

Some times i wish to cling to everything I’ve known
sometimes i wish to leave like a storm can blow
at times i close all doors and turn my back on you
sometimes my open heart it can be so true

and I’m never sure if theres love in me
or if im just hanging on
never found the answers
if im losing or if I’ve won
and as i move on further
think its easy to know
i always aim to where my heart will go

there are many steps leading nowhere some that lead to you
the going can be so fine and it can be blue
and often i go forward i hesitate and turn around
i would like to be more steadfast and stand my ground

but I’ve seen what is coming
i only know where I’ve gone
never found the answers
if im losing or if I’ve won
and as i move on further
think its easy to know
i always aim to where my heart will go

some times im feeling old
other times im young
some times I’m too scared i can only run
there are moments i’ll go out fighting
feeling so bold
what im given in this life i want to hold

but I’ve seen what is coming i only know where I’ve gone
never found the answers if im losing or if I’ve won
and as i move on further
think its easy to know
i always aim to where my heart will go