Kristian Matsson, who records under the moniker The Tallest Man on Earth, is both blessed and cursed by having arrived nearly fully formed.
When his debut album Shallow Grave appeared in 2008, Pitchfork devoted much of its favorable review comparing Matsson to Bob Dylan and commenting on the “detachment” in his songwriting. Only in his mid-20s at the time, Matsson had no right to sound so weathered and weary.
Yet, somehow, it worked. After releasing a series of albums on Dead Oceans, including the acclaimed sophomore release The Wild Hunt (2010), Matsson signed to Anti-. There, he quickly released Too Late for Edelweiss (2022) and Henry St. (2023). The latter was his first album recorded with a band and received mixed reviews. This time, Pitchfork called the writing “just bad” and “slapdash.” Other publications were kinder and said it retained “an amiable accessibility” while being “effortlessly enjoyable.” Thirteen years had passed since The Wild Hunt, and it felt as though Matsson might have run his course.
However, Matsson has released Just Beyond Endless Mountain, a return of many sorts. Now 43 years old, Matsson returns to his roots, both his home in central Sweden and its music. After so many years obsessing over American musical lore, Matsson took inspiration for Just Beyond Endless Mountain from Swedish folk music. Matsson explored polskas, a type of traditional Scandinavian music. Usually written in 3/4 time, polskas differ from a traditional waltz, which stresses just the first beat. Instead, polskas emphasize the first and third beats, creating a loping sort of feeling.
Matsson tries to begin anew by stripping his music down to the most basic elements. By capturing these songs with old field recorders, Matsson gives them the feel of something compiled by Harry Smith. The album opens with “The Wildest of His Dreams,” and though the song features more than just Matsson and his guitar, the other instruments take a back seat here as he sings, “A world bent out of figure drops a figure in my dreams.” As is often the case with Matsson’s lyrics, they may not make literal sense, but you can easily derive meaning in his poetry.
Much of Just Beyond Endless Mountain sounds like you’ve stumbled upon Matsson performing outside at a Swedish Midsummer celebration. His distinctive, gravelly voice still sounds the same, but Matsson is trying to illuminate things a bit more. Take, for example, standout track “Colors.” Over a gentle cavalcade, Matsson sings, “When we’re stuck in repetition / Of the words we keep so near / It’s just a ballad of my own voice / And the echoes that I hear / To see you bring back the colors again.”
That desire to return is prevalent throughout Just Beyond Endless Mountain. Whether it’s the clomping blues of the title track or the starkly monochromatic minor key of “Scully, It’s Me,” Just Beyond Endless Mountain is Matsson’s strongest work in years. He still sounds like Dylan, but detachment from the world is no longer something you can attribute to The Tallest Man on Earth and his music.
