Karkelo

Korpiklaani

Albums like this have pretty well convinced me that I’m an odd one. This is on my list of top five most agreeable albums. I like its tone. I like how it sounds like time traveling vikings, wrecking up a mead hall on bass and electric guitar. I like that when I listen to it on cold days I feel both warm and about ready to help fend off the chunks of ice threatening to knock into the prow of the longboat. I may, in fact, write a story about some vikings who live in a magical world occupied by all the ancientness of longboats and gods and global discovery and, at the same time, the shredding of Kalle Savijärvi and the gravel-slide rumble of Jonne Järvelä.

They’re folk metal at its most decayed, most ancient, most earthen. They started as a folk act, and they added metal layers over the top. And, in that way, could very well be most ancient vikings whose forgetfulness about dying brought them to another time, and they chose to embrace the new age and its strange instruments.

Thoughts like this make me happy.

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