As a child, Eydís Evensen would stare out at the Westfjords as the wind howled around her, pretending to conduct the clouds. In these daydreams, she was a meteorological maestro: controlling the Icelandic storm fronts in the distance, bending the weather and the world to her will like an orchestra. “The weather was intense where I grew up but so inspiring. There was such harshness to our winters, but at the same time, such beauty. I used to sit there for hours,” recalls the Blönduós-born composer. Years later, Evensen is still finding musical expressions for the awe she feels when staring out at the vastness of nature. Bylur, the pianist’s mesmerising debut album, is a calming contemporary classical diary of her life to date, that takes its name from the Icelandic word for ‘snowstorm.’ She chose that title for good reason. “All of these songs are moments from my life,” she says. “So many ups and downs. All of my joy, darkness, happiness, heartbreak, and melancholia.” A snowstorm contains multitudes: there’s chaos and adversity to them, but beauty and fragility too. The same could be said about this emotionally eclectic album: an enchanting float of stirring piano melodies and tender strings from a force-of-nature new talent.