Ever since first hearing the ethereal voice of Aurora on my Discover Weekly, I have been enamored by the spiritual incentive and challenging art of the singer from Norway.
All of high school, I fell in love with her odd, childlike mannerisms as she performed and loved her songs full of narrative and creative storytelling. Her production always seemed so organic and intentional, as well as uncorrupted by other popular genres of music (although I have nothing at all against popular musicians; she just differs greatly from them).
A descendant of Norse vikings myself, her nod to that primal, tribal music, as well as orchestral, haunting pieces, which are reminiscent of soundtrack pieces we might be familiar with, bring her music near to us in the sonic familiarities of nature.
Songs like “Daydreamer” or “The Seed” capture the topography of Norway in its fjords that bleed their way straight into the mountains. Grand and forcing your attention sonically, her lyrics also have such depth behind them.
In the track just released on Tuesday, November 7, Aurora’s newest single “Your Blood,” challenges the violence of the current injustices occupying the Middle East, as well as binding humanity together by talking about the sacredness of human life. I couldn’t help but be reminded of the phrase so often used in the Old Testament, “the life is in the blood,” and hear the humility and arresting compassion in her voice as Aurora proclaims, “we are dust” many times in the song.
Although I am not aware of any spiritual associations that Aurora might proclaim as an individual, I found “Your Blood” to be such a good reminder that we are “born again” in suffering. We are redeemed through our pain. Perhaps even more so as it is shared.
Aurora’s work has always been quite spiritual, but this newest addition to her discography preaches that which I think many Christians can resonate with. Not only is her concern for what is most appropriate for her current moment apparent in the well-timed release of this song, but I also think that her artistic gift is that of bringing the outsider into fellowship with other listeners, and gifting her art as medicine.
Aurora is so opposite the performers we know. When I saw her live performance in Chicago in 2022, when she was singing quietly, the room was silent and expectant of her breath on the next note. She spoke with such softness as to lower the tension in the room and command intimacy. She would explain her songs, how this one was inspired by a child she saw running to her mother’s arms one day in the park, or how sorry she was that some people in the room could relate to her darker or more sad songs.
Aurora calls being human “an extreme sport.” She says that we all must be a little excused in this life because sometimes the best we can do is make it to the end of the day. But then she obviously does so much more than this whenever she is able. She creates art, listens to people that open their heart to her in a moment, and sings. She uses her voice.
My obsession with her as an artist and advocate of what makes us relatable to one another and human is not something I can foresee myself outgrowing anytime soon.