Album Review: Papir, IX
Posted in Reviews on November 25th, 2025 by JJ Koczan
First, a note about math. Copenhagen mellowpsych instrumentalists Papir were last heard from with 2022’s 7 (review here), which, intuitively, was put forth as their seventh album. Three years later, here come the seven songs and 75 minutes of IX. What happened to VIII? Did I miss an eighth Papir record? Now, before 7, in 2021, the trio released the 2LP collection Jams (review here), which very much was what it purported to be: jams.
But if they were going to count that instead of a numbered release, wouldn’t the bump have been before 7? So that would’ve been 8 or VIII or however they decided to write it? Or, alternatively, maybe there’s a lost Papir record. Maybe VIII exists on a hard drive somewhere. Maybe they skipped it out of some Danish superstition I don’t know. Maybe it got lost on the way to mastering and they’re so creative they decided to make a whole new record instead of just resending files.
I don’t know.
And does it matter when you’re dug into the pastoralist sprawl in “IX.IIII” (9:34), after Christoffer Brøchmann Christensen drums drop out (they come back, cymbals and light hits, don’t worry) when it’s just guitarist Nicklas Sørensen and bassist Christian Becher Clausen out there searching? No, to be sure, it doesn’t matter in the slightest. Papir could call their curiously-named eighth full-length anything else and it would still sound as sweet. The wash that’s created in opener “IX.I” (9:23) and the subtle, spacey movement in “IX.II” (10:33) that gives over later to more drift — name the record whatever, they remain. Papir have always been about exploration in a space, whether that’s a live setting, a studio, presumably a rehearsal room, etc. Their sound feels out the boundaries of the walls, bounces here and there, and coming through headphones, modern psychedelia holds few delights as comforting as having that beamed directly into your head. There’s sooth and surf in “IX.III” (10:06), and it comes through gorgeously with the organic tones, effects flourish, and patient delivery that have become staple elements of Papir‘s approach over the last 15 years.
A nuanced conversation between the guitar and bass in “IX.III” as the second half plays out sounds more structured than improvised, but IX wouldn’t be the first instance of Papir toying with the lines between making it up on the spot and composing. I’m not sure if it’s lap steel or an effect, but “IX.III” gives itself over to sentimentality in its later reaches, giving over to “IX.IIII” as the jazzier centerpiece with additional percussion, shakers and such, for extra motor-conveyance, some genuine Earthless-style solo shred in the first half and the aforementioned blissery in the second. That lead is abut as energetic as Papir get on the album, though 21-minute finale “IX.IIIIIII” (hey, I don’t name ’em, I just make run-on sentences about ’em) has its bursts as well as one might expect. One doesn’t generally think of Papir as trying to be heavy for heaviness’ sake, as they’ve never needed that to bring a sense of presence to their material, but their dynamic has grown broader, and especially on an offering that has so much palpable space, so much room in the sound, to hear them fill it in such a manner is thrilling, even just for a time.
Actually, I’ll say especially just for a time, because the truth is that Papir wouldn’t be half as immersive or comforting as they are if they were just unipolar in going all-in. They’ve learned in their years to follow where their whims take them, and the result is a vast and expansive sound, brought into emphasis as “IX.IIIII” (5:20) takes hold following the residual echo of the song before, fading in with a welcoming swirl of, I don’t know, magic? Did I just beat a dungeon boss? Maybe. Sørensen‘s guitar dares a strum and some notes, and every single one of them sends out ripples as on water through the background of shimmering, sun-reflecting drone. “IX.IIIII” is the shortest inclusion on IX, and fair enough to call it an interlude, but the later low frequency — could be bass, could be cello or keys — stands out all the more for the focused backdrop, and the song ends fluidly to move into the penultimate “IX.IIIIII” (8:47).
“IX.IIIIII” almost can’t help but feel more active, what with drums and bass and all. Clausen reminds that there’s serenity to be found in the low end too, and while the guitar floats overhead in a kind of following-along meander, and the drums provide emphasis and punctuation to the procession as it unfolds, it’s the bass at the center of the track and it’s one more dynamic turn ahead of the extended closer “IX.IIIIIII” to come, which invariably would do well in capturing much of the album’s scope considering unless it was going to make some kind of dramatic shift, which, I mean, it’s a universe of infinite possibility, but Papir do an awful lot of work to establish the atmosphere on IX, and they’re veterans at this point enough to know whether something is going to fit. Bigger though it is, “IX.IIIIIII” still very much fits here.
Admittedly, I’m writing from the perspective of someone for whom Papir are a known quantity, though surely if it’s your first encounter with the band — not gatekeeping or criticizing; they’ve been around for a minute but nobody expects you to hear everything; yes I’m half talking to myself there — they’ll come across as no less welcoming. The difference between IX and some of what they’ve done in the past is that the exploration in this material feels like it already knows where it is and it is where it wants to be. That is to say, in their maturity, Papir aren’t necessarily concerning themselves overmuch with where their flights take them, the point is going, and the way they go is by enacting the chemistry one can hear rampant throughout IX. If there’s escapism to hear, as there often is in something so evocative and pastoral, for the band the escape seems to be in the process of playing and creating itself, rather than something specifically evoked by the music.
This means their command is absolute — it’s not a leap at this point to say, wherever VIII went, that Papir are masters at what they do, and that’s not an opinion I form lightly — and while they obviously delight in sometimes just hitting record and seeing where they end up in a jam, going hard or not, that too is a conscious decision made on the part of the band, whose passion and revelry, even at the most subdued stretches, is carried across with vibrant resonance.
