Nordic folk leaders Wardruna’s latest album Birna is an exploration of the modern world through the eyes of a mythological she-bear. Mainman Einar Selvik explains the band’s continuing themes, performing in neolithic locations, expanding the genre and what might happen if he finds himself making the same album twice.
When Einar Selvik founded Wardruna in 2003, they effectively existed in a scene of one. While by no means the first band to explore Scandinavian tradition, they helped popularise it to such an extent that subsequent Nordic folk acts such as Heilung, Nytt Land and Skáld can pop up anywhere from the Royal Albert Hall to Brixton Academy, ArcTanGent to Glastonbury.
With an increasing number of acts sharing the spotlight and pushing the boundaries of what this part-traditionalist, part-progressive music can do, there’s an understandable air of expectation around Wardruna’s latest release, Birna.
Much like 2021’s Kvitravn – translated as ‘White Raven’ – Birna’s title references a totemic figure of the animal kingdom: the she-bear. The album isn’t a retelling of an existing narrative; rather an exploration of humanity’s relationship with nature as framed through the animal. Each track builds a story of ecological destruction and the impact it has on the mythical beast: she’s forced into permanent hibernation by modern-day society, which results in the slow death of the forest.
“Bears are such a central part of wherever they are,” Selvik explains. “The time was right to give voice to that part of the wild. They used to be considered the wardens of the woodlands. Now they’re the wardens of the vanishing woodlands.”
Such environmental and spiritual themes are commonplace in Wardruna’s music. While they achieved a certain level of popularity in mainstream culture thanks to their association with TV show Vikings and videogame Assassin’s Creed: Valhalla, Selvik blanches at the use of the V-word in association with his project. Wardruna leave the stories about blokes with horned hats and lightning-hammering gods to Amon Amarth, thank you very much.
“People think we sing about Vikings and shit. We don’t – and we never did,” he says. “The core of our music is very much concerned with nature and our relationship with nature.” Work on Birna began before Kvitravn had been completed. A press release describes him “hunting for songs amid trees, air, rocks and sea.” It’s a bit hippie- dippie, but not a million miles from the truth.
It’s quite a profound experience, seeing any kind of wild animal in the wild
On the 15-minute epic Dvaledraumar (‘dormant dreams’), Selvik underpins the usual layered complexities of his band’s music with recordings of the ‘singing ice’ of Sweden. It’s a massive track, among the most ambitious in Wardruna’s canon, capturing an impressive level of detail.
“Towards the end of that song, we’re moving into the spring,” he explains. “So I wanted a willow tree flute, which you can only make in the spring and only lasts for two days before it dries up. For me, that’s the sound of spring in Scandinavia.”
Much as he has with previous Wardruna records, Selvik found his inspiration by heading out into Norway’s resplendent woodlands, formulating ideas as he hiked. “I prefer walking on the animal trails rather than the human ones,” he admits. “I like seeing as little human traces as possible.”
Which raises the question: has he ever encountered a bear in the wild? “No – I don’t live in bear territory!” he says. “I did encounter a moose once; they’re arguably even more dangerous! And a wolf, too. It’s quite a profound experience, seeing any kind of wild animal in the wild. But the wolf just casually walked past.”
Selvik couldn’t tell you the first time he heard folk music. “It was always there in a way,” he says. “I remember that I enjoyed the melancholic parts of it, the darker side of the tradition. I grew up with all sorts of metal music from my older siblings and my father was very much into classical music. Traditional music came in the gaps between.”
There are elements of traditional music… But I do it on instruments that predate what we know as folk
Those gaps are wide-ranging for Selvik, and Wardruna in particular. With layered, complex compositions, their work is more aptly described as a symphonie au naturel. “I don’t label my music as folk,” he agrees. “I use folk – there are definitely elements of traditional music in what I do. But since I do it on instruments that predate what we know as folk, it sort of becomes a different branch.”
From their origins in the metal scene – he played in black metallers Gorgoroth from 2000-2004 – to the band being adopted into the wider embrace of progdom, Wardruna defy genre lines. “Our music has the ability to speak to people across genders or age,” Selvik says. “That’s what we see reflected in our audience as well. It’s this beautiful broken family.
“Prog’s always something that’s been fascinating to me. I like music that challenges me. But traditional music can be very progressive too, with polyrhythms and crooked beats; things that move in directions you wouldn’t expect.”
True enough, for all the new age – or should that be very, very old age? –philosophies and holistic practices, Nordic folk has nonetheless become a cultural phenomenon in recent years. Selvik even set up the platform By Norse to promote and celebrate the culture. In 2024, Heilung were invited to perform at Glastonbury, offering a new realm of exposure for the scene.
Selvik has no problem sharing the spotlight. “We paved the way in many senses,” he says proudly. “When we started out, nobody understood what the hell we were doing. We always chose to not jump on the hype train, only saying yes to opportunities on our terms. I wanted there to be more of an awareness about these instruments and themes when I started out, so it’s not a competition or an ego thing.”
Our first-ever concert was in front of a 1300-year-old Viking ship – that set the bar pretty high
Another benefit to the scene’s new popularity is that, in the early days, he composed and recorded almost entirely alone. Now he has a whole scene to work within. By and large, he still composes solo; but he also works with co-vocalist Lindy-Fay Hella on ideas, while the live band are often drafted in to record in the studio, expanding the scope of their sound.
Birna also sees other musicians like “flute guru” Hans Fredrik Jacobsen, master jaw-harpist Kenneth Lien and Jonna Jinton offer contributions, the latter recording the aforementioned singing ice while also offering “keening vocal work” on Dvaledraumar.
Selvik’s prospects look bright. He admits to an interest in playing Glastonbury given the chance – “It’s a special festival with a special history in a special place. I think, personally, it’d be a fantastic match” – and continues to focus on the horizon. He’d love to play some of the Neolithic sites dotted around the British Isles, for instance.
“The first-ever concert we did was in front of a 1300-year-old Viking ship in 2009 – that set the bar pretty high,” he says. “For me, Wardruna is a journey; a constant development. The most important thing is it has to come from somewhere real. It has to move me.
“And I’m not moved by the same things now as I was 10 years ago. I could never do the AC/DC thing where you make the same album over and over. I still have things to say; and when I don’t, I’ll probably do something else.”
