The Norwegian singer-songwriter iris makes music of exquisite balance.Deep emotions play out on a backdrop of warm, minimalist electronica. Stories of love and connection vie with a desire for solitude. This is coming-of-age music, capturing all the intensity of early adulthood. And it sets out the stall of an idiosyncratic writer who, at just 22, has a kind of self-knowledge that reaches far beyond her years.   Iris was born into a music-loving family near Bergen, with four older siblings who all played instruments while she was growing up. One of her earliest memories is dozing off on her father’s shoulders at a Metallica concert, only to be woken by the pyro. Raised on The Beatles’ Rubber Soul (“Norwegian Wood” was a favourite), Leonard Cohen and Joni Mitchell, she traces her own creative endeavours back to the seven-minute, a cappella songs she’d record on her first phone in the bedroom she shared with her brother. “Ten verses, no chorus. Not impressive at all,” she says, “but at least it was something...” Long-since erased in embarrassment, the tracks were the first sign of her vivid, novelistic approach to making music. On her upcoming debut EP, electronic beauty are brought to life with the cream of London and Norway’s young producers.
  The Norwegian singer-songwriter iris makes music of exquisite balance.Deep emotions play out on a backdrop of warm, minimalist electronica. Stories of love and connection vie with a desire for solitude. This is coming-of-age music, capturing all the intensity of early adulthood. And it sets out the stall of an idiosyncratic writer who, at just 22, has a kind of self-knowledge that reaches far beyond her years.   Iris was born into a music-loving family near Bergen, with four older siblings who all played instruments while she was growing up. One of her earliest memories is dozing off on her father’s shoulders at a Metallica concert, only to be woken by the pyro. Raised on The Beatles’ Rubber Soul (“Norwegian Wood” was a favourite), Leonard Cohen and Joni Mitchell, she traces her own creative endeavours back to the seven-minute, a cappella songs she’d record on her first phone in the bedroom she shared with her brother. “Ten verses, no chorus. Not impressive at all,” she says, “but at least it was something...” Long-since erased in embarrassment, the tracks were the first sign of her vivid, novelistic approach to making music. On her upcoming debut EP, electronic beauty are brought to life with the cream of London and Norway’s young producers.
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Iris
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