The sonic evolution of Norway’s Ulver is honestly unbelievable: to think that the same band who put together the folk/black metal epic that is 1994’s ‘Bergtatt’ would go on to dive headfirst into electronic soundscapes boggles the mind. The group have never been ones to sit still, which might explain why new record ‘Neverland’ is coming so soon after 2024’s ‘Liminal Animals.’ Ulver’s explorations of ambience and electronica continue wholeheartedly here on an album seeking to capture the same naturalistic beauty as its artwork: in that, the band succeed, though not without a fair few hiccups along the way.

‘Neverland’ is, in many instances, a greatly ambient piece of work: its influences from genre-pioneers like Brian Eno are inescapable, right from its opening moments full of chirping birds and pulsing synths. With their metal roots long since discarded, Rygg and company are no longer seeking to dominate your attention, but to immerse you in a number of gentle mood pieces. It’s a good thing, then, that their latest record nails the simple yet effective presentation it was aiming for. ‘Fear in a Handful of Dust’ is hardly even a song— rather, its washed-out chords feel just as atmospheric and natural as the accompanying animal sounds, blending together to score the reading of a poem. The album begins proper with ‘Elephant Trunk,’ not that the track is particularly arresting in its own right. Rather, the song’s purposeful build from a mournful piano tune into an eclectic fusion of rock-steady drum hits and hazy keyboards does an excellent job balancing the hesitant mood of the track prior against some more musical elements: if this could be described as ‘dance music,’ it’s more of a somber head-bob than a jovial Charleston.

Ulver draw a firm line between these two types of track: for every synth-infused song in the same vein as ‘Elephant Trunk,’ there’s a quiet introspective moment to match. Ambient soundscapes make up a significant portion of ‘Neverland,’ with cuts like ‘Weeping Stone’ and ‘Horses of the Plough’ comprising solely of slow-moving synth builds and sweeping arrangements that’ll have you looking out your window with a wistful expression on your face— the band certainly know how to put together a solid instrumental mood, creating atmospheres both inviting and mysterious on ‘Quivers in the Marrow.’ It’s in their placement within the album that these moments ultimately fall flat. When surrounded by more engaging ‘songs,’ in a more conventional sense, these minimalist soundscapes often leave you waiting for another moment of intrigue, for another memorable drum groove or meaningful musical development: Ulver don’t quite manage to temper their listeners’ expectations, and their ambient experiments feel smothered under the weight of impatience because of it.

Really, those empty tracks simply fall victim to comparison— they’re forced to rub shoulders with the electronic excursions that make up the remainder of ‘Neverland,’ and it’s these songs that’ll turn heads. None of the grooves on display here are complex or even particularly intricate, but are just strong executions of good ideas. The delay-heavy guitars, warbling synths and disco drumming on ‘People of the Hills’ are hardly mind-blowing elements in isolation, but that won’t stop you from moving to this rock-solid number: especially coming off of the letdown lead single ‘Weeping Stone,’ this cut is like finding an oasis in a wasteland. Ulver take that song’s momentum and roll with it, pushing forward into the Joy Division-esque bassline on ‘They’re Coming! The Birds’ and the especially present ‘Hark! Hark! The Dogs Do Bark!’ The bass is an essential cornerstone of ‘Neverland,’ filling these tracks with lines that never impress for their technicality of phrasing, but absolutely get the job done: honestly, much the same could be said of this record as a whole.

The surprises continue to pile up as the album wanders towards its conclusion (not that any particular twist or turn on an LP this muted could really be that shocking). ‘Pandora’s Box’ flips the script by melding Ulver’s obsession with naturalistic ambience and their penchant for infectious electronica: where the following ‘Quivers in the Marrow’ breaks its promise of some memorable musical intrigue, this cut takes its tribal drum pattern and actually manages to bring it home. It’s an excellent sign for things to come, leaving the door open for the more arresting percussion and plucked strings of ‘Welcome to the Jungle’ to saunter on in. When the album’s presentation is so flawless, it doesn’t take much in the way of savvy writing to impress— the dance grooves on offer here are always welcome, regularly standing as the best moments on ‘Neverland.’ Closer ‘Fire in the End’ is yet another beneficiary of the band’s immaculate soundstage, even if it’s the cut crying out most desperately for vocals overtop: we can’t deny that the song does certainly resemble hold music, but that won’t stop us from enjoying this satisfying collection of shakers and chord changes.

Are Ulver doing anything you haven’t heard before on ‘Neverland?’ No, they are not. Are they making truly transformative ambient music that completely transports you? Not quite. Is this album good anyway? Yes, we’d say so. ‘Neverland’ is the epitome of solid ideas well executed, with Rygg and company crafting a collection of tracks ranging from so-so ambient moments to immensely gratifying electronic forays. It may not be as fantastical or unbelievable as its namesake, but don’t take the wrong way— Ulver have changed a lot in the past thirty years, but they’re still hanging in there.