On Declaration of Dependence, the Kings of Convenience have found their sweet spot.  The lyrics are thoughtful but not overwrought, and the quiet instrumentation is blissfully simple.  It’s a record for people in relationship conflicts, but aren’t that pissed off or distraught about it.   It’s a great record for passing the winter to.  Nothing here is going to blow you away, but it is all pleasantly executed, and the duo seems to have found a sound that works well for them.  Think Simon and Garfunkel on Prozac, with less social commentary and more introspection.

Opener “24-25” is a fine prototype, a bittersweet reflection on the self-imposed complications of relationships in our twenties.  Erlend Oye and Eirik Glambaek Boe blend their impossibly soft voices to great effect.

“Mrs. Cold” brightens things a bit, teasing the protagonist about her tough romantic exterior and the vulnerabilities the narrator has successfully exposed.  Soft guitar propels the mid-tempo beat without need for percussion, as on most of the album.

“Me in You” speeds over delicately picked guitar as Boe recalls a story of conflicted love, and how one person invades another, with results that aren’t always good.

“Boat Behind” plods happily along while handling the rather unhappy business of a chance encounter with an old lover.  The instrumentation is textured by a viola punctuating the chorus and an upright bass filling out the bottom end.

“Rule My World” is a statement on morals and their priority in determining a mate.  

“My Ship Isn’t Pretty” is a quiet, echo-filled rumination on how people have communicated thoroughout the ages.  It features the thinnest instrumentation on the album, but the sound calls to mind an acoustic guitar being played in a cathedral.

“Renegade” is a test of a lover’s dedication to another.  The guitar is gorgeous, Oye’s vocals are diamond-clear, and it all comes together better than perhaps any other place on the album.

“Power of Not Knowing” finds the duo harmonizing, and the sound is an older, more mature one.  This song wouldn’t be out of place on any 1970’s singer songwriter album.  More love and regret, which seems to fuel most of the album.

“Peacetime Resistance” bubbles upward with pleasant sounding bad news, featuring a fine instrumental midsection with guitar and string instruments weaving together in much the same way Oye and Boe’s voices do throughout.  

“Freedom and Its Owner” is a philosophical of myriad scenes someone has captured with their camera lens, reminding the listener that all of this is limited by the perspective of the viewer.  It warns against limiting one’s view to what one already knows.  The finest takeaway line - “No view is wider than the eye.”

“Riot on an Empty Street” moves more deliberately, and if the lyrics here are trying to say something specific, I’m at a loss for what it is.  Basically this is a vaguely wistful song about unfulfilled love.  It doesn’t hold up well to the rest of the album.

“Second to Numb” is a sad song about the effects of love gone wrong, and how it can render survivors less sensitive than they were before things got started.

“Scars on Land” uses physical imagery of broken chains and used up landscapes to evoke feelings of the costs of crumbled relationships.  

Declaration of Dependence isn’t an album you’ll rave about to friends, and it isn’t going to shatter paradigms.  It is a damn fine record to put on when it’s too cold out to do much of anything besides get a fire going and recline on your futon under a blanket.  I’d imagine that the Kings would be happy with that.