Iceage
For Love of Grace & the Hereafter
MEXICAN SUMMER
Iceage started as a band of teenagers in Copenhagen in the late 2000s, with their earliest post-punk records best encapsulating their fiery live shows. Yet things have gotten a bit more world-weary lately on variety-act releases such as 2021’s Seek Shelter and 2018’s Beyondless—not to mention vocalist/guitarist Elias Bender Rønnenfelt’s recent solo material and numerous collaborations.
Yet their fuzzed-out and often romantic sixth album sees them lean into their love for red-hot headbangers again, as well as the cooler realm of the blues. For Love of Grace & the Hereafter was recorded last year at Silence Studio in rural Sweden, the same location where Iceage made their 2014 album Plowing Into the Field of Love. Working with longtime collaborator Nis Bysted, Rønnenfelt wanted all of the tracks to be “immediate, urgent, raw, and fast,” according to a press statement. “We wanted to try to shed any unnecessary weight. Catching outlets of energy is what excites us the most.”
Iceage captured lightning in a bottle here, as they did on Plowing. Opening track “Ember” continues the band’s growing love for vaudevillian antics as it piles on glockenspiel lines while additionally setting the stage for a broad range of ideas: “The Weak” is all surf-rock bass and serrated guitars, “Salve for Every Sore” is a country-western guitar-chug fest, and “Mother-of-Pearl” sounds like a welcome blend of The Strokes and Wire. Lead single “Star” is another classic Iceage track with all the fat cut off. It’s raw and minimal, but turbocharged for sugar-rush punk enjoyment. The band continues to discover new ways to mix theatrical romance with dread here. It’s great to hear them crushing up expectations underfoot, only worried about locking in as a band.
Ultimately, For Love of Grace & the Hereafter is a masterclass in controlled chaos. It proves that even as Iceage mature into post-punk elder statesmen, they haven't lost the feral, unpredictable edge that made them vital a decade ago. By stripping away the bloat and returning to the rustic environment that birthed their mid-career peak, the band has rekindled their core artistic flame. They sound reborn—not by tossing out what they’re known for, but by sharpening their sense of purpose. These songs are thrilling, bruising reminders that nobody does beautiful ruin quite like Iceage.
