There's something in Icelandic music that always seems to match perfectly the feelings associated with precipitation. It's not fair to always plead that the music is associated with icy weather but be it a slow dust of flakes or the incessant drizzle of rain, the fragility of falling water and the wonderfully bittersweet sadness of the music seem intertwined. Amiina infuse this delicate sadness into every second of their debut album Kurr, following up on a template they've built their last two EPs around. The album isn't so much cinematic as it is rotoscopic in effect. It's not a huge sweeping production, just a careful retracing of a beautiful moment frozen in time. Simple colors dance wildly but shimmer at the edges with unimaginable light. Amiina have really emerged from their place in the background as a string ensemble and aid to other's music and taken their place as one of neo-classical's new breed of artisans. Kurr is out now via the band's own Bláskjár records.