The Tiny

Although preconceptions of yet another Swedish band
hitting the market are probably rife, but unlike many of
their counterparts, The Tiny have recorded an album
that will surprise even the most clued-up music fan.
Bearing in mind their intention to make a record that’s
“grandiose and true to life in a cinematic way, taking
each idea to a new level whilst still keeping our tiny
personal identity”, one thing becomes immediately
obvious: The Tiny write for no one but themselves.
The initial and most poignant charm of Starring;
Someone Like You lies in its sheer authenticity —
no matter how bizarre the songs may become or
what may be said, there isn’t a second where you
don’t believe them.

A trio, The Tiny combine the childlike but strikingly
original voice of Ellekari with the classical training and
string arrangement skills of cellist Leo and double bassist
Johan. Instead of sticking to a purely orchestral sound,
however, innovative combinations of sounds flicker
between songs like scenes in a film. Like a candlelit
journey through a fairytale forest, God only knows what
is going to happen next. The unpretentiousness of the
song titles and simplicity of the language used are
designed to lure you into a false sense of security. For
while effectively elementary instruments are put to good
use — strings, a toy piano, a saw — nothing about this
album is “simple”. Each sound is perfectly placed, each
change in mood a natural movement and each song
paying compliment to its predecessor.

My Mother sounds like a spell being cast; vocals circle
round gorgeous strings and a bewildering narrative, which
then trickles into the equally ethereal Know Your Demons
— a dark, yet strangely uplifting number, full of haunting
pedal organ and piano as the vocals chant “know your
demons as they know you, wherever they go you’re
bound to”. Without you even realising it, The Tiny will
excise you completely from your earthly surrounds.

Ed Harcourt makes an appearance on Sorry, oddly
sounding almost more natural here than on his own
compositions, while talented Norwegian songstress
Ane Brun contributes backing vocals to a number of
tracks. Elsewhere, the arrangements vary wildly from
more upbeat, fast-paced tracks like Dirty Frames to
the more stripped down sketches of Everything Is Free
— surely the most unusual cover of a Gillian Welch
tune — and album highlight, In Reality. Ellekari’s vocals
effortlessly hopscotch between the songs, always
shining the brightest.

At its quietest, Starring... is as intimate as a whispered
confession and is almost unbearably lovely. At its most
energetic, it’s full of life, full of colour and bursting with
character. The dynamics work unbelievably well, the
ups and downs maintaining interest and continuing to
enchant right until the very last moments of final number
My Greatest Fear, perhaps their most spellbinding moment.
Going back to the blueprint, it’s clear that their goal has
been attained. Cinematic in the way it creates an entire
new world, both grandiose and simple, and undoubtedly
unique, Starring... marks the beginning of an exciting
new talent; somewhere between genius and insanity
but totally, totally brilliant.

~ Rod Thomas - Wears The Trousers

The Tiny are a collective that came about through a decisive decision to abandon a life of safety and discover the full capabilities of band members’ creativity.
And that is simply what makes The Tiny such a special group, its members’ willingness to experiment. Throughout the course of “Starring; Someone Like You” there is a completely unorthodox mixture of instruments used which makes for a delightful listen. Ranging from the typical piano and violin, the band also ventures into the unconventional, using a musical saw, toy piano and wind chimes to create a wonderful musical experience.

One has to interpret the lyrical tone of the album as that of a capture and release story. There isa theme of ever-longing for something more, whether it be yourself, or those around you, but a constant message is that of being incomplete. “Kind of Like You” immediately starts this impressive venture into uneasy relationships. It brings about emotions of commonly throwing away love on whatever or whoever may be around you in the hope of finding something or someone worthy of such emotion.

“Know Your Demons” is one of my favorite song on the album, both musically and lyrically as it offers a differentiation of tone and beat, while continuing the album’s theme. “Know tour demons, they know you, wherever you go, they go too,” becomes a line that is essential when understanding the remainder of the album. The musical differentiation comes near the end of the track, where there is either a blossoming of noise or a deterioration of the song, depending how you approach it. A positive and more likely approach is taking it as a blossoming of innocence, as the song becomes a primary school sing along, with a visceral clashing of drums and variety of tones.

The remainder of the album touches on Scandinavian soul, up-tempo violin that seems to chase you and Ed Harcourt, as found with his contribution on “Sorry.” While there are a great many different musical tangents, the album generally broods, but rather than burning out at the end, to use the quote, it merely fades away.
In doing so however, the album creates an environment which musters nothing less than a curiosity for more from the listener.
The Tiny are experimental, but not for the sake of merely doing so, and avoiding a mainstream sound or audience. Rather, the sound and message which emanate are a product of internal factors, a need to produce art, and in a sense, take the road less traveled.
In this, the band does nothing but succeed.
-Culture Bully - Cultur Bully

We‚ll resist the more obvious plays-on-words that spring to mind when considering the band name "The Tiny" other than to suggest that this
piano/cello/upright bass trio from Sweden offers pop miniatures (sorry) of deftness and delicacy. At the forefront are songwriter/pianist Ellekari Larsson‚s waiflike vocals and her intimate examinations of the human condition; think Björk crossed with Kate Bush but shorn of the former‚s calculated looniness and the latter‚s world-weariness.

In the Brechtian opening cut "Closer" an intoxicated Larsson, flush from a chance encounter with a young man, stumbles about dark streets in the after-hours.
("Maybe I was stoned," she murmurs unsteadily.) Later, in "No Money," a dirgelike, droning number for bass and harmonium reminiscent of Nico, Larsson ruminates upon being cast penniless into a cold, cruel world.
And on the uncharacteristically upbeat "Just Like You," a Nordic barn dance for cello and guest violin, Larsson takes a hard look at someone‚s dipsomaniacal ways˜a lover‚s, perhaps, or her own˜and concluding, ruefully, "I know your phantoms, I know them well."
Part cabaret chanteuse, part street philosopher, part baroque-popster, Larsson, on the basis of this debut, is poised to warm the hearts of romantics andeccentrics alike.
-Fred Mills - Dimple

If an award was given out to a band whose music lived up to the cliché 'less is more,' than the Tiny would win hands-down; in this case the Swedish trio's sole instruments are piano, cello, and upright bass. However spare their setup may be on this debut, the Tiny is capable of creating music-a combination of jazz, classical, and pop styles -that is both intimate and symphonic. Pianist/vocalist Ellekari Larsson's sings in the mannered yet tension-ridden style of Bjork and Kate Bush that adds emotional weight her songs of loneliness ("Don't"), romantic yearning ("Closer"), and fatalism ("No Money") Cellist Leo Svensson and bassist JohanBerthling provide the mournful and majestic accompaniment to the album's almost haunting air of despair, best summed up on "Lake": "If I have lost my mind, I don't care/I'm going allthe way, with no fear." Those lines also characterizethis group's unique musical approach that would losemeaning had it been embellished with guitars, drums,or a triangle for that matter.
-By David Chiu - New Beats

There's nothing quite like the thrill of being with an album right from the start -- the first note hits you and you know you're in love. Closer will do that to you. Ellekari Larson will do that to you. Her voice is a unique, eerie croon that not only keeps you interested -- it successfully drives ten songs. It'll never lose your interest. Larson takes a lot of inspiration from Björk -- staying firmly in the high ranges, attacking them with an almost childish playfulness, utilizing lilting, slanted melodies much like the itty bitty string section supporting her (i.e., a cello and a double bass). In fact, she sounds a hell of a lot like Björk, except without that cute little throaty growl that seems to be the most divisive aspect of her work. Make no mistake, though: Larson is no imitator. She has excellent taste and talent to match.

Much of the power in The Tiny's work comes from the group's fondness for audaciously slow tempos. Describing standout opener "Closer"'s rhythm requires the use of ellipses: one... two... three... four! One... two... three... four! The Tiny also boasts a collective education in all manners of jazz, displayed in a certain rhythmic looseness employed tastefully and to brilliant effect. There are small variations in rhythm toward the end of "Closer", noticeable only because they are exactly what's needed -- the precise variations required at that moment to convey the song's thrust, its emotional weight, its sonic texture. Like the little breaths Larson takes between, and sometimes in the middle of, particularly difficult notes, you cannot imagine the song functioning any other way. How, exactly, would it work?

"In My Back"'s inclusion of the cellos and viola is probably best described as chamber music, but it also recalls the early, string-soaked work of alt-country geniuses Clem Snide. Neither they nor The Tiny are afraid to let the pure, gorgeous tonality of their instruments speak for itself. They're both completely comfortable with letting one long, drawn out note do a job that three or four could have in less time. There are basically five compositional elements at play in the song, total -- and that's all the variation they need with Larson's voice confidently leading the way. It also makes element number three -- an almost breakneck flourish (by Tiny standards) followed by a slow exhale -- all the more potent.

Guest vocalist Torbjörn Zetterburg also deserves a mention for her contribution to "Across the Bridge", Close Enough's "thickest" song. She makes such a perfect, slightly breathy, marginally deeper counterpart to Larson's voice that The Tiny might should really consider taking her on full time. She really does that much for an already brilliant song.

"Just Like You" is the fastest song of the bunch, and again vaguely brings to mind Clem Snide -- mainly because it strays some distance into the realm of alt-country. The disc's most haunting song comes to us in the form of an utterly simple horror story about the risks we take in a materialistic world. It's called "No Money", which is pretty much the story, too. The petulance, the sheer blind childishness in Larson's voice is probably the scariest thing about the song, but the barely audible clicks that keep the beat do their fair share as well.

It's hard to pinpoint Close Enough's best song, but it's as likely to be "Lake" as anything else -- not least because, at over seven minutes, it's the longest we get to spend with the band at one time. The way the double bass drives the song as much as Larson's voice does, the way the cello unfolds, the use of piano and glockenspiel to decorate the tune -- these are the other reasons to love "Lake".

There's a gripe, but it's a pretty lame one: the lyrics aren't quite where they could be. Stuck in a slightly awkward place between explicit narrative and vagaries open to interpretation, they're at their best when they get a little more specific -- "Just like you" and "No money" are character studies a similar vein, but the latter benefits from its use of a very specific internal monologue voice versus the former's stream-of-consciousness metaphors. There's a sense that the lyrics' vagueness, their slippery, wispy almost-formlessness, mirrors the ephemeral instrumentation, but this is not so. There's never any question of what a cello is "saying", whether it's moving in particularly coherent ways or not. Language is more complicated than a cello, and accordingly has the potential to be far more vague.

Still, that's a minor beef; if you don't go looking for it, you're unlikely to find it -- and besides, it's entirely a matter of taste. Each listener will hear these inkblot lyrics differently. The important thing to remember is that Ellekari Larson's voice is haunting and beautiful -- as are The Tiny, as is Close Enough. Chamber music (and its various modern iterations), when done well, can almost entirely transcend questions of personal taste; it's the fundamental musical language in Europe and middle class America. Therefore, there's really no question that you should look into The Tiny: it is, inasmuch as anything in music can be, an objective fact.
-Mike Megginni - Splendid Magazine

Le deuxième album de The Tiny se déguste sans modération. Mais il convient d’entrer dans cet univers enchanté à pas feutrés. Cachées derrière un buisson, nos oreilles se délectent de cette étrange apparition. Les Suédois se posent là, à trois. Le violon sous le menton, Leo Svensson suit les mesures édictées par la contrebasse de Johan Berthling. Excentrique et fragile, le timbre de la belle Ellekari Larsson atteint des cimes lyriques tandis que résonnent les notes de son piano. A l’image d’une Kate Bush scandinave, la Suédoise plonge ses paroles dans un bain théâtral et sensuel. L’auditeur devient alors le confident de ses déboires sentimentaux. Déroutante, sa voix se fait aussi l’écho du halo folklorique de Joanna Newsom. Ces références entendues, le royaume de The Tiny s’éclaire. Les pleurs célèbrent un état de béatitude permanent. Timides et effarouchés, les refrains restent discrets. Profitant d’une envolée mélodique, ils se laissent soudain apprécier. « My Mother », « Know Your Demons » et « Everything Is Free » révèlent alors toutes leurs subtilités harmoniques. Le monde minuscule de The Tiny est donc meublé de grandeurs. Peut-être irritante pour les non-initiés, la tessiture d’Ellekari serpente au beau milieu des sentiments humains. Entre tristesse et désespoir, le trio a puisé son inspiration. Accompagné d’Ed Harcourt sur « Sorry », The Tiny s’excuse. Oui, mais de quoi ? D’exalter nos émotions ? De toucher aux faiblesses de la passion ? Rien de grave, en somme. Mais attention : le romantisme a ses limites…
Nicolas Alsteen - musiczine.net

Review by Margaret Reges

There isn't a genre or pat phrase that's fit to describe Sweden's the Tiny.
Chamber pop might be right, if only because there's a cello involved.
Cabaret might be closer, if only because Starring: Someone Like You feels like the kind of music that would be played in a dimly-lit piano bar.
You certainly can't call it twee, though it can sound cute at times, and you'd probably want to shy away from calling it indie pop for that matter.
You could really stretch and try calling it operatic post-rock, but that would just be annoying.
Anyway, the point here is that the Tiny's music defies description in the best way possible, and the group's second album is a wonderfully dark elaboration on 2005's Close Enough. Where the first release came across as a detailed pencil sketch, Starring is a full-blown oil portrait, full of whorls, shadows, and odd angles.
Much like the previous album, Starring delves into song material that under any other circumstances would be considered humdrum: love, personal demons, and mom. But don't let the quotidian themes fool you -- this is an epic album, sweeping and theatrical one moment, spare and aching the next.
Ellekari Larsson is in top form here, and her deceptively fragile voice is served well by the lushness of this new work. Less a lead singer and more a primal force of nature, she sounds something like Björk sans the biting pixie attitude or Joanna Newsom sans the little girl rasp. The singles, "Dirty Frames" and "They Say It's Weird," are intricately pieced-together worlds; they're rich with cellos and musical saws (courtesy of Larsson's partner in crime, Leo Svensson), shot through with Casio keyboard whooshes, and sprinkled with wind chimes and Stylophone blips. Other songs echo the sparseness and melancholia of the first album, especially on the heart-breaking cover of Gillian Welch's "Everything Is Free."
Starring is ambitious, strange, and (especially given how quickly it came out after the first album!) really well done. It could even be called brilliant, if only because it has a certain glimmering quality.
-by Margaret Reges All Music Guide - All Music Guide

5/6 Svallande känslor av intima musiker

Konsert: The Tiny | Södra Teatern Stockholm | Lördag 5 december 2009


Musikhögskolepop har en irriterande tendens att bli väldigt teatral och introvert, men så fort Ellekari Larsson och Leo Svensson står på Södra teaterns scen på lördagskvällen är det helt tydligt att de, trots att de är väldigt duktiga musiker, inte är här för att skrytspela och stänga ute, utan för att dela med sig och bjuda in.

De två medlemmarna i The Tiny träffades och blev förälskade bara några trappor längre bort, på Kägelbanan, 2002. Sen dess har de bildat sitt band, släppt två skivor, tagit en paus, och så precis i år släppt en skiva till, Gravity & grace. Produktionen på Gravity & grace är enorm, kristallklar och perfektionistisk, så mitt i en fullproppad salong känns The Tiny faktiskt mer intima än på skiva.

Ellekari Larsson skrattar åt sina egna infall på scenen, berättar historier om låtarna (hennes mamma kallar låten Lithium för ”den där jobbiga”) och faller utmattad över pianot efter extra påfrestande sångpartier.

De är ett musikerband, och musiker älskar instrument, men de många bytena känns aldrig onödiga eller påklistrade, sågen har en plats som inget annat instrument skulle kunna ta, precis som cellon, flygeln, synten, elorgeln, xylofonen, ståbasen, trumpeten och trombonen (som pappa Sven Larsson, en gång med i Sammy Davies Jr.s kompband, spelar). Förbandet Anna von Hausswolff hjälper även till med kör.

Känslorna svallar, publiken är knäpptyst (förutom i pust-pauserna mellan låtarna när extatiska killar ropar ”sjukt bra” och ”jag håller med” mot scenen), svetten lackar och i Turn off the news ser också tårarna ut att trilla.

Ellekari Larssons röst faller fritt från operett till Björk-guttural utan ansträngning, distans blandas med hög närvaro och till och med de stora gesterna känns naturliga i Larssons opretentiösa tappning – som när hon föreslår att den som behöver skrika av sig kan göra det i låten Burn till exempel, och sen kommer ihåg att det bara varit en person som någonsin vågat det, och han var klädd i plastrock.

Som extranummer spelar The Tiny en helt akustisk Ornette Coleman-cover och det blir tydligt en gång för alla de har förmågan att visa stor musikalisk talang utan att för den skull glömma bort sin publik eller sluta ta risker.

-Elin Unnes - Svenska Dagbladet

The Tiny
Gravity & Grace 4½ / 5


We bipeds are frequently given to falling down flights of stairs and knocking into balusters, finding ourselves at the bottom with a muddled perspective and a throbbing head. But with their third album Gravity & Grace, The Tiny navigate the art of locomotion in a startlingly balanced manner. Cellist Leo Svensson and bassist Johann Berthling rise and descend the steps of instrumental range, while Ellekari Larsson sings in a voice that sounds tickled by a feather. The lyrics are pronounced in that sterling, silvery way that doesn’t come easily to native English speakers – Larsson, a wispy Swede, allows each word a space shot through with sonorous vocals and the precociousness of someone fingering a foreign language. Eleven songs, all a tad enchanted and fluid, fall upon the listener’s ears like autumn rain as Larsson’s voice vibrates lightly, creating ripples of sound.

The majority of the tracks on Gravity & Grace seem, at first, needy in their content. Larsson frequently employs clichés about being retrieved from the “lost & found”, while feelings of inadequacy plague ‘Too Heavy A Burden’, where she thinks herself “not enough, you see”. These songs seem directed at an unyielding, merciless lover, and Larsson is constantly pleading with bent knees, her voice rising from a pure vocal line to a thin, dry growl of sorts. This scratchier, rougher tone develops attitude in ‘Ten Years’, a furious tirade against some male figure who has betrayed and belittled in a relationship that has wasted away the singer’s winters. Later, Larsson manipulates her voice to become annoyed, heavy sarcasm filtering through ‘Lithium’.

Weakness is a theme which seems, momentarily, to overwhelm ‘Never Coming Back’, in which Larsson laments the loss of a man. But, upon a second listen, the song reveals itself to be a rather metaphysical piece; verbs skid around the lyrical sphere with comments on driving, flying, calling out, then suddenly the words create a scenario of death, car crashes and of life lived in between two realms. Of particular interest is ‘The Man Who Ran’, a composition that seems a return to Larsson as a girl, a young, double-braided blonde teen jogging past the landscapes of her childhood, thinking aloud for the benefit of the listeners. She runs and whistles wistfully, wondering aloud “What if gravity is just another trick of the mind?”, as her voice seems to alight upon the atmosphere itself, levitating beyond natural forces and justifying the album’s title.

Gravity & Grace is a beautiful, airy work. Larsson’s voice is flexible in range and raw in a way that’s altogether unseen these days, with a precious, proud self-consciousness that doesn’t shy away from harsh sounds or honest words. The lyrics are interesting and the instrumentation accompanying them hugs Larsson’s inflections with a heartbeat of strings as the icy elegance of the music grants the English a Scandinavian tint. Accordingly, it’s hard to resist the temptation to describe Gravity & Grace with one of Larsson’s own phrases, the music like “a finger on my eyelids as I sleep”. Delicate, dark and deeply personal.

-Dalia Wolfson
Wears The Trousers - Wears The Trousers