Kings of convenience, and above all Erlend Øye,

were the Norwegians who gave the shy indie girl a face.

He (or she) who thinks it's easier to dance with than to talk to that good-looking person at the party.

The duo from Bergen were professionals in melodies.

But it was because their music, despite the whisper and their incredibly low-pitched sound, was at the same time such an intense emotional explosion, that we loved it and played the albums Riot on an empty street and Declaration of dependence over and over again.

They filled the gap between the rigid,

boring, self-conscious and mannered indie pop and the one who wallowed in experimental attitudes like the Tough Alliance, or South American rhythms a la Hellström and later Lekman.

According to Eirik Glambek Bøe, the comeback is "a summary of the difficulties we have encountered during our lives over the past eight years".

And maybe one of them has broken a mirror because it undeniably seems to have been tough - especially on the love front.

The album Peace or love is largely

a letter to Kanskekvinnan - she who can never decide and who once she leaves does so without explanation and takes with her all the self-esteem you had.

The theme is male vulnerability - both lyrically and musically.

Just like twelve years ago, it's acoustic guitars and soft alternating vocals that count - sometimes really ripped Simon and Garfunkle parts, but it's beautiful.

The whole album is actually a time travel

back to the 00's, it sounds more or less exactly the same as then.

They have even collaborated with Canadian Feist, just like when it went.

The only question is whether this is exactly where they should steer the ship.

Of course, the velor-popped soft-spoken man has been missed sometimes over the years, not least during the Swedish-sex EDM wave or the recent gangstarap trend.

Still, it's the slightly more ragged songs that lift this album.

When there is extra pat on the guitars,

strings and rhythms and when you can see Øye and Bøe in front of you, swinging on your hips.

When they sing out (well, almost) like on the single Rocky trail.

Peace or love is both beautiful and sometimes gripping.

But trying to sound just like before, but without giving us any new gem like Id rather dance with you, Misread or Mrs Cold, is not entirely successful.

What would it sound like if the Kings, out

of convenience, tried to take a step outside that safety zone and perhaps dare to update themselves or try new ingredients?

It's still the question that hangs over the whole album.