"Beautiful" isn't a word that crops up very often when reviewing Heavy Metal but it's entirely appropriate when discussing "Berdreyminn." Six albums into their career, Iceland's SOLSTAFIR are still masters of mysterious music that consistently defies any attempt at pigeonholing. They don't write songs so much as craft pure sonic landscapes; listen to this through headphones with your eyes shut and it's all too easy to be transported to a frosty Scandinavian wilderness. It's an atmospheric trip from start to finish and the perfect accompaniment to idly watching Odin's ravens flap lazily past a blood-red winter sun.

It's also a record that leaves you questioning whether SOLSTAFIR could genuinely be considered a Metal band? These are slow, meandering tracks that bring to mind long walks through desolate glacial valleys and they rarely venture into anything that could recognisably be considered the Devil's music. They can still be heavy when they want to be, but SOLSTAFIR are a band whose main focus is creating a certain mood and they succeed admirably. "Hula" for instance is an oddly affecting number that manages to be both bleak and hopeful in the same breath. It's a laidback and melancholy piece of work, interspersed with otherworldly cries that take on a strangely optimistic tone the longer they go on. There's some well-used female vocals and keys added to the mix and their decision to sing entirely in their native language lends an otherworldly air to it all. The same can also be said for "Silfur-Refur," a ramshackle oddity that starts with nothing but a light drum beat and the sound of guitar that is only barely held together. Fast forward six minutes and it culminates in an almighty cacophony of distorted noise, singer Aðalbjörn Tryggvason venting his grief at the world.

"Ambatt" meanwhile begins with a choral line that turns into a soothing ambient passage and is soon joined by a softly-spoken lead vocal. It's a dreamlike and beguiling track that diverges into an almost radio-rock guitar riff two minutes in. It's not afraid to move at a languid pace either, gradually building and shifting from one passage to the next before climaxing in a droning melodic crescendo. Drummer Hallgrímur Jón Hallgrímsson in particular deserves to be credited for this one, as he keeps time while throwing offbeat rhythms into the mix despite several extended sequences where he doesn't appear at all. The closing "Blafjall" on the other hand is arguably "Berdreyminn's" finest moment. Another rich and engrossing voyage into the the far North, it absolutely hammers home how lonely it must be to spend most of your life aboard a Longboat. The anguished vocals and mournful tone bring an unfathomable sorrow but there are still glimpses of hope to be had. Ever challenged Death to a game of chess? Well, this is the soundtrack.

This is their first full-length since founder member Guðmundur Óli Pálmason's ugly departure but any worries that his loss would affect their music go unfounded. This is a formless and ever-changing beast of a record that makes for an enchanting experience. They're a difficult band to pin down, but if it can be described in any way, "Berdreyminn" is accessible avant-garde. They're a more aggressive SIGUR ROS, a wintery version of KYUSS and the heirs apparent to the Post-Metal throne. They're all these things and none of them, but this album is a masterpiece. And it's beautiful.