If "Thankful" was Klara Lewis’ quiet hymn of grief and gratitude, a spectral embrace in the wake of Peter Rehberg’s passing, then "Thankful Remixes" is its echo - diffused, refracted, and reshaped by the hands of friends and sonic co-conspirators. This is not a remix album in the traditional sense. There are no bombastic reworks, no club-primed rebuilds (though Peder Mannerfelt does his best to nudge the material onto the dancefloor). Instead, this is an album that lingers in memory, a collection of interpretations that feel like variations on a shared dream.

Pelle Westlin opens with an acoustic meditation on "4U", dissolving Lewis’ reversed tape loops into a delicate interplay of clarinet, voice, and guitar. It’s a startlingly intimate reimagining, as if the original track had shed its digital skin and re-emerged as a fragile folk song, whispered across time. Baba Stiltz takes a similarly stripped-down approach to "Thankful", stretching its harmonic core into a hushed, meandering guitar piece, as though following the thread of a thought just before it disappears.

Then there’s Mannerfelt, whose "Top" remix delivers the album’s most radical shift - trading Lewis’ quiet restraint for kinetic euphoria, an ecstatic rush of rhythm and pulse that feels almost like a parallel universe version of the original. It’s a rare moment of propulsion in an otherwise weightless album, a brief moment where the melancholy gives way to motion.

Lokalfragan (Em Silén and Nora Pollak) take "4U" into even more minimalist territory, reducing it to an intimate murmur, a bedroom recording of ghostly presence. And finally, Erik Enocksson’s closing take on "Thankful" is nothing short of devastating: hushed acoustic guitar, stark edits, and field recordings that seem to seep in from the edges of consciousness, capturing that liminal space between longing and acceptance.

"Thankful Remixes" is less an expansion of the original album than a quiet conversation with it. It feels personal, not just in its selection of collaborators - all of whom are part of Lewis’ immediate musical orbit - but in its refusal to overstate its intent. These are not just remixes; they are responses, echoes, shadows of the original. The grief remains, but so does the warmth. And that, perhaps, is what gratitude sounds like.