NEØV are
Anssi Neuvonen
Samuli Neuvonen
Melancholy is a fine art. A profound emotion connecting a deep sense of longing and nostalgia with something akin to pure, heartfelt euphoria. Solastalgia, some call it, a feeling of loss for something that perhaps never was. We find that in the pictures of Caspar David Friedrich, in the works of Chopin, we find it in Mazzy Star as well as in Pablo Neruda’s poems. It’s also the main protagonist in the music of Finnish indie darlings NEØV. Ever since their mesmerising first album “Orange Morning” enchanted the world back in 2013, brothers Anssi and Samuli Neuvonen from the mythical land of the thousand lakes has risen from underground phenomenon to stellar leading export in this very peculiar brand of northern somnambulist indie music only artists from the Nordics seem able to fully embody.
Two years after the sublime “Soft Atlas”, the architects of lingering sonic beauty return with their most refined, most versatile work yet – “Goodbye Nordhamn”, a work of exquisite, weightless beauty. Like its predecessor, gaining them hundreds of thousands of streams, radio airplay and sold-out live shows across Europe, they recorded it together with iconic producer Birgir Jón Birgisson (Sigur Rós, Jon Hopkins, Björk) at equally iconic Sundlaugin studio in Mosfellsbær, Iceland. “We wanted to continue from where we left with our previous album “Soft Atlas””, Anssi Neuvonen says. “Going back to Iceland felt like a right thing to do.” Oh and how it fits: For many years, NEØV were honing their autumnal, nostalgic, bittersweet and slightly elusive craft – only to find the tremendousness of Icelandic nature might be an even better backdrop to their music than their beautiful Finnish vastness.
Listening to the weightless, dreamy, detached songs on “Goodbye Nordhamn” carries the feeling of taking a walk under an endless sky, a “Catcher in the Rye” of the contemporary indie world. Vast horizons, rolling clouds, a sense of belonging to something bigger than just mundane everyday life, a coming-of-age saga set to fragile music. The “calming milieu of Sundlaugin,” as Anssi describes it, “brought that tiny bit of extra magic when finishing the album in the studio. The studio itself is an old swimming pool, and the factory milieu is surrounded by a river with a waterfall.” It must be said, however, that the duo not only seeks solitude in nature when recording a new set of melancholic masterpieces. “Surrounding ourselves with vast landscapes is like meditation, it brings us calm and focus,” Anssi says. “Personally I live on a hill next to a nature conservation area and daily walks in wide landscapes is what I keep returning to.”
Their music always had the distinct quality of making the world shrink away, of embodying in a warm, bittersweet universe. All the more so on “Goodbye Nordhamn” because the two have decided to consciously broaden their sound, ranging from wistful indie pop to introspective shoegaze, from forlorn dream pop to huge crescendos of Radiohead proportions. Whatever they do, though: their music remains purely human, always chasing some innocent lost, some dreams yet to be fulfilled. Heartfelt, open and vulnerable. Anssi nods: “Humans need places where they can feel vulnerable. And maybe our music can be that kind of place.”
More and more people find solace in these exquisitely crafted hymns to this peculiar feeling of being detached from the world and at the same time very much a part of it all. “Goodbye Nordhamn” is their sixth album, and with every new release, NEØV have been slowly but steadily shapeshifting into this translucent, iridescent entity it is today. You can’t really plan on songs like these, can’t construct them. You have to rely on your heart to pour them out. “First there has to be a feeling, something to express,” Anssi agrees. “Then comes the melody, then comes the lyrics and the arrangement. When we go to a studio session, we pick only that kind of songs which have a strong feeling.” Among the numerous feelings lingering in their music, there is one that proves to be especially elusive. “Joy,” Anssi sighs with a sad smile. “When we’re trying to write a joyful song, usually it just doesn’t feel right.” Maybe that’s the most Finnish thing about these two.
These songs, then, take shape by just putting two brothers into a creative environment full of instruments. And wait for the magic to happen. “We are multi-instrumentalists. When we work, we have a room full of instruments – both electronic and organic – and we just try to have a good time with them. At the same time we’re fully aware that making music is about living with imperfection.” Be that as it may: “Goodbye Nordhamn” is darn close to perfection.
Björn Springorum
September 2026
