Iceage - For Love Of Grace & The Hereafter

Iceage have been less a band under the shadow of their surrounding discourse than one found constantly unable to keep up with it; where for most, the backlash follows a period of hyperbolic praise, for these Danes – and, specifically their younger selves – it felt as if the backlash had hit first. It gave them, and their on-stage selves a bristly reputation, their gloomy alternative rock a fitting soundtrack for a band of unwilling rock stars, a group for whom going through the motions felt a slog to be endured rather than, well, what they’d intended to happen. 


Five years on from their last record together, 2021’s ‘Seek Shelter’, and following a (less consistent, admittedly) solo foray by frontman Elias Rønnenfelt, this context offers ‘For Love Of Grace & The Hereafter’ an additional heft; a solid, often excellent - if occasionally eyebrow-raising - alternative rock record that at least on record appears to sound like a band finally giving in and letting themselves be the rock stars that both seemed to come so naturally, and that they’d been running from. 


Intent, purpose, and a play to make things bigger is more what ties the record together, whether using huge riffs to introduce songs (‘Lifetime’); pop’s favourite toy, the handclap (‘Star’); string swoops (‘True Blue’); or a frankly obnoxious drum fill (‘mother-of-pearl’). Elias’ voice is still an acquired taste, but here he’s front and centre: see ‘No Fear’; his softer side on ‘1835’ (which also borrows a beloved Britpop trope, the filler “la la la”); or the twinkly refrain he echoes with his vocal line on ‘Tender Blades’. Moreover, the yelps that eventually pepper ‘mother-of-pearl’ sound as if – gosh! – it’s all quite a lot of fun, actually. 


Still, even despite the disco strut that drives ‘Match Head Girl’, it’s not a full 180. This is still clearly the Iceage sonic stable they’re pulling from – just with clearer focus, and distinct ambition heard within. Their Americana influences still sit alongside those proto-punk ones; ‘The Weak’ rumbles along with a rattle, while the truly galloping ‘Salve For Every Sore’ takes this to its only logical conclusion and pulls in the odd banjo pluck. 


In contrast to most artists honing in, this isn’t Iceage taking anything to extremes – quite the opposite, in fact, which for them probably is the unexpected. The record is all the better for it.