Windswept landscapes of Iceland swathed with syncopated electric guitar, Lone rider is like a modern western. We come face to face with absurd young cowgirls, lost in an imaginary land and lost for words. Hindered by language, they attempt to talk but are incapable of finishing their sentences. They try to advance, but don't know where they're headed and end up going round in circles. In this infinite, unfamiliar territory, as in life, it seems as though we are looking on as youth hesitates to come of age.
—Mathilde Delaunay