Danheim is the Nordic Folk and Viking-inspired project of Danish singer/songwriter and Producer Reidar Schæfer Olsen, who has been operating in Electronic and Ambient music for over ten years. Olsen draws on historical and mythological sources for inspiration, and through using organic elements in his music, he builds up an atmosphere of authenticity that spans multiple albums and often appears in multi-media projects, like several seasons of the TV show Vikings.
Olsen’s new album, Heimferd, arrived via Season of Mist on October 31st, and while it shows a lot of sonic and conceptual continuity with his previous releases, it also represents developments. For this album, Olsen introduces even more sound elements drawn from the natural world and experiments even more with vocal elements to build mood and emotion. Thematically, Olsen explores the idea of a homeward journey and the different expressions it might take in our lives, from struggle to something hoped for on the horizon. I corresponded with Reidar Schæfer Olsen for a written interview about Heimferd, the role of personal belief systems, the mood and role of landscapes, and the specific textures we find on the tracks of his new album.
I read that some of the ideas behind the album are about “journeying home”, but was interested when I listened to the album to find that the journeying aspect is as important to the album as the sense of home. It almost makes me feel that home is only something we can reach through obstacles and struggles. Was that part of your thinking with these new songs?
I’ve always felt that home isn’t something you just arrive at–you have to move through something first. Memory, distance, or perhaps some form of struggle. Heimferd isn’t about a perfect return; it’s about what shapes you on the way. Home means something more if you’ve had to long for it or fight your way back to it. So yes, the journey itself is just as important as the destination, or maybe even more.
Can you tell me more about why you chose the cover image of the album? Do you think we are still influenced by older concepts of what home looks and feels like, even if we don’t realize it? I recognized it as a medieval-style wooden hall when I first saw it, but after a moment, it reminded me of my mother’s house, a log cabin, for instance.
I chose that image because I have spent some time in the area. It’s a reconstructed old Viking hall in Denmark, so for me it carries something personal–a memory of old times, warmth, and belonging. I think we’re all influenced by older ideas of home, even if we don’t notice it. It’s not just a building – it’s shelter from the environment, a warm fire, and fond memories. That’s what I wanted the cover to reflect. It’s indeed very similar to traditional log cabins from many cultures, so I think, as you also mentioned, that many people will recognize the feeling or memories I am talking about.
I know that you are often inspired by mythology and folklore, and I see some of that in this album, but I also see place names, and possibly references to grappling with the elements. Do you think landscape and the elements were part of the mood of this album, too?
Yes, absolutely, both landscape and the elements played a big part on this album. I think land can tell a story without words. I sometimes think back on different seasons and landscapes when I start composing a new song, and sometimes that becomes the main inspiration for the whole track. I usually layer a lot of recordings from Denmark, Iceland, Finland and Norway that fits the mood. It could be exploding geysers, mountain winds, to calm streams or anything in between. It gives a great sense of something more earthly, natural, and simple. Something many of us in our modern world probably long for, deep down.
I heard about your indie label Fimbul Records. What were your goals in launching it? Is that still in operation?
Fimbul Records started as a way to help other artists in the Nordic Folk genre get more exposure. It was not focused on signing many artists or becoming a big label–but more like a home for upcoming artists. However, I unfortunately had to close it down because accounting and managing it became way too much work, especially since I did almost all of it myself back then. But I did manage to boost the artists by sharing their music and albums released under the label on my social media accounts, via Danheim, and on YouTube.
How necessary do you feel it is to investigate older belief systems in order to navigate modern life? I’ve come across an idea in psychology that we all, essentially, need to create our own personal mythology by picking the elements from the past that resonate with us most, something which I’m reminded of by your music.
I don’t think we all need to follow an old belief system, but I do think there is value in looking back for inspiration and wisdom. Old beliefs often carried ideas about nature, loyalty, ancestors, and courage. Those things are still important. In a way, yes–I think many of us build our own mythology. We choose symbols, stories, and values that mean something to us.
And other parts are, for many of us, probably left behind because they no longer resonate with us. Music is also one way I explore that, I think.
I understand that you typically work in a home studio. What is most essential to you in order to do that? Do you ever use unconventional items to make sound elements for your records, like household objects?
Working from home is important for me because I need silence and space to follow instinct, and any idea I have in the moment. I work best alone, with time to explore sounds, with no external input. I often record a lot of different sounds, some made by my own rattles, ancient Viking objects (from auctions), wood, bones, and weapons. Anything that has character. I like it when a sound feels imperfect, old, or distinct. Those textures make the music feel a bit more alive in some way.
I understand that this album will be released on vinyl. Did that affect the length you allowed for the songs and the selection of tracks for each side of the album? Do you prefer that audiences hear each “side” as a full musical movement?
For this album, I didn’t get too much into the technical aspects of the vinyl release during production. But when the album was finished, we had discussions about the track listing and tried to shape each side so that it stands on its own, but still belongs to the full story. My label, Season of Mist, has a lot of experience with vinyl releases, so the process and discussions went really well.
With the track “Brenhin Llwyd”, I recognized a Welsh name, and wondered if it was a place-name or a reference to a story. The percussion that opens it is interesting and metallic, and it has central, powerful vocals that feel very distinctive, with more bass elements throughout. What led to these distinctive elements for the piece?
“Brenhin Llwyd” means “Grey King” in Welsh, and it comes from folklore rather than a place. I was drawn to the mood of the figure, something ancient, quiet, but powerful, almost like a spirit tied to the land. The metallic percussion and heavy bass were intentional, to give it weight, like something moving under the earth. I wanted the vocals to sound raw and almost hypnotic/commanding, not clean or too polished. It’s one of the darker pieces on the album, but also something new, since I usually only dive into Nordic mythology.
On the track, “Haukadalur,” I recognize what may be a place name that reminds me of some places I visited in Iceland several years ago. The use of water sounds, birds, and clinking metal elements is really visceral and pulls the audience into being in a particular place. What inspired those choices for you?
Yes, Haukadalur is a geothermal valley in Iceland, known for its geysers and raw nature. I wanted the track to feel like standing there, like when I visited it the first time, hearing steam, water, wind, distant birds. It’s a place that feels alive, almost breathing. I had the idea that the metallic sounds are like tools or remnants, human traces within that wild landscape.
On the title track, “Heimferd”, I became most aware of the idea that the journey home might not be a smooth one, and often leads through challenges and the unknown. The music conveys a sense of drama and searching, making home not just a place, but a deep need. How did you try to convey that longing through the sound of the track?
The title track carries the emotion of longing and return, but also the struggle of finding home. I didn’t want it to feel easy or resolved. The rhythm is steady, but never fully resting. There’s a kind of struggle in it, but also endurance. I used vocals in a more distant, echoing way, as if calling across space. The last part of the song was also influenced by sounds that near-death experiencers (NDEs) sometimes hear when crossing over. One of them is a “rushing” kind of sound similar to a train passing by. So in a way, it’s about finding peace after going through struggles, which is life for most, if not all of us.
Also, regarding “Heimferd”, the lovely video introduces us to a forbidding, but beautiful landscape, and a drama of young people caught out in the elements, trying to return home. How did this video come about? What are you happiest with about it?
We wanted the video to reflect the journey without explaining it too much. Someone caught in nature, facing something larger than themselves. There’s no audible dialogue, only movement, and uncertainty. The landscape becomes the judge and the guide. What I’m happiest with is the simplicity– it just lets you feel it and leaves space for the viewer’s own meaning of returning home at the very end of the song.
For the song “Stormdans”, I found that both the strings and whispered vocals made me think of rising winds and the voices of the past that seem to be part of the landscape, which creates its own sound. The accompanying video also brings out the drama of that non-human landscape even more sharply.
“Stormdans” is about being in the middle of something you might not be able to control–like standing in a storm physically, and just embracing it. I used only a few whispers because I wanted to create movement, which is more about nature and the environment, and not so much oneself. So I wanted the vocals to feel kind of distant, almost just carried away by the storm, and just embrace the power of nature instead.
I see that “Yggdrasil II” is a continuation of other work you’ve done. This track is quite bright and bold, with a melodic introduction and rising vocals. You also introduce English lyrics. It seems like putting this at the end of the album also might have a specific meaning for you. Can you tell me more about this piece?
I returned to Yggdrasil because the theme never quite ended for me, and also because I wanted a different sound (especially with vocals) since the first version was recorded with a very simple setup. But “Yggdrasil II” is a bit different in sound as well. It’s brighter, more open, and yes, this time I wanted an English chorus to reach that final emotional clarity for more people who don’t speak or understand Scandinavian. Ending the album with it was intentional–after all the trials, storms, longing, and searching, there’s a sense of arrival or grounding in the presence of the tree of life at the very end.
