Pitchfork

Swap out a single letter, and Rivulets' guiding light Nathan Amundson shares a surname with the man who conquered the South Pole. And while he does chart cold expanses with his brand of reverb-soaked gloom-folk, he isn't set on conquering anything; instead he's content to wallow in the crevices of life's miseries. Amundson's music is beautiful in moments, but doesn't explore enough of the emotional palette to leave a lasting impression.

Amundsen keeps his musings moving at a glacial pace (not surprisingly, his first two LPs bore the stamp of Low's Chairkickers imprint). As with most Rivulets recordings, "You Are My Home"-- the title track from Amundson's third full-length-- finds the young man sounding profoundly alone in a sea of hesitant, bottom-heavy acoustic strums, elegiac viola, and quivering electric guitar murmurs.

Yet after nearly four minutes adrift, something magical occurs. The titular chorus' upturns have foreshadowed it, but it's a surprise all the same: guitars fall away as a string interlude ushers in a seachange, Amundsen's fey vocals supported in the bowed crests, the phrase "you are my home" now revelation rather than ritualist slogan. When the rattling electric returns (underpinned this time by a simple piano melody), it's in triumphant swells-- it seems our dour troubadour has cracked an ever-so-slight smile, and it's enough to melt icebergs.