Fremmede toner

No, no. Haha, what? Nah. Wait, really? Really really? Oh shit, let me get my stuff in order, just--

Sorry, sorry. I'm not accustomed to going at a review fresh and with no clear idea of where I'm going to go with it, but much like the latest effort by Dødheimsgard, something about this release tripped me in such a way that I immediately gave up on the idea of reviewing it. However in this case something else (perhaps the need to state some facts regarding execution, perhaps the fact that someone else was brave enough to take a stab at reviewing it) made the "I should review it" impulse linger for long enough for me to actually, somewhat reluctantly, give it a go. But I'm still gathering myself from both the reality of the album itself, and the nature of its contents. So, please, if you'll allow me, I need to make a quick detour: Nothing more than one or two paragraphs that I need to get off my chest before moving to the album in question. It's important since it is brimming with parallels, room for comparison, and food for thought.

You see there's this band, this Norwegian band of hard hitting, kinda proggy rock (some may argue metal, but that's always a blurry line unless we're talking extreme metal) firmly rooted in Norwegian traditional music. This band released a couple of albums around the mid '00s, made a huge sensation, and then promptly disappeared for over a decade. They came back not too long ago, though, with some wonderful new material, and also some reworked material. They're one of my favourite bands and their return is more than welcome. The band I'm talking about, obviously, is none other than -you guessed it- Gåte! What? Lumsk? Hah, you're kidding. You're kidding, right?

The similarities between Lumsk and Gåte are rather noteworthy. It's not just that they play similar music, went dormant, and came back. They both returned offering music that's simultaneously unmistakably their own, without it sounding dated or predictable, and they both also offered, as a bonus, reworkings of their own material. It is where their sequential execution differs, however, that a case study may be made on how to make and not make a comeback: Gåte suddenly disappeared from the scene at the height of their popularity (after releasing a live album), returned a bit over a decade later with a sort of preparatory EP, then the following year released a full-length of all-new material, and finally (so far) released another album only three years later, which includes equal parts new material and pretty radical reworkings of old songs. Lumsk did nothing for a decade and a half, and returned with an album that's made up of the same songs twice, in the same order, only this time around sung in German and (in two particularly jarring instances) English. Fremmede toner indeed. Had Lumsk taken a few notes from their compatriots and comrades in musical arms, then this album would have most assuredly gotten a shining, spanking 100% from me, even if it consisted only of Side A. But they didn't.

And that's what really calls for the question, my cherish'd, my dearly beloved Lumsk: Why in the absolute fuck? Is this all you were able to muster after sitting in your collective bums for 16 years? It's not like you can't write great music anymore; you proved that you can with half an hour of excellent, fresh, new music full of vitality that still remains true and recognisably Lumsk-like, so what on the gods' green and blue earth made you think it'd be acceptable to just release six songs twice? Not only does your fanbase, which has been waiting intently, following the news on outdated social medial platforms, deserve better: YOU as a band deserve better! What kind of ham-fisted, flimsy comeback is this!?

That's basically all for the Gåte-Lumsk-comparison detour I needed to take. Their similar yet opposite cases help to illustrate what's wrong with this album, and to express my towering frustration at it, since what's good about it is so, so good. It's painful to have to rate this album the way I have, but it's also the most fair score I can give it: The first half is a solid 100%. The second half is pointless at best and insulting at worst. With that out of my chest, maybe I can cheer myself up talking about how good the music is.

Now, I'll admit I was quite taken aback when I learned that Stine-Mari Langstrand was no longer part of the band. Her unmistakable vocal presence, her range and elegance, had become an integral part of the post-debut Lumsk sound (to the chagrin of some sore fuckers, mind), and I couldn't imagine what else would be different, indeed what could even suffer, because of her absence. Now, the good news is that this Klingen person is more than competent, even if her scope and technique aren't as immediately imposing. She gets the work done, and leaves nothing to be desired. The violin, another key aspect of Lumsk's sound, is thankfully provided by the very selfsame player who left an indelible mark in all of Lumsk's albums: Siv Lena Waterloo Laugtug. The lineup then is made up of basically only a couple of newcomers and then people who've been around since at least Troll (except for the drummer who joined during the Det Vilde Kor sessions). A healthy lineup that guarantees that you'll find pretty much everything you were looking for if you enjoyed their previous work, while also allowing for a fresh-faced execution and the presence of new, if subtle, flavours and colours. To their credit, this is exactly what you'll find on side A.

Indeed, what wonderful music we find on that side! As the music unfolds one of the first things we notice is that this is some of the most hard-hitting, heavy music the band's written since Troll, which should gladden some of the pissy reviewers who dismissed an album as wonderful as Det Vilde Kor for being "pop", but then again there's no pleasing reviewers, amirite? The band has in fact managed to pack an impressive variety of dynamics, timbre, and intensity in six songs, most of which are of a very healthy length, the longest being a measly 30 seconds under the 9-minute mark (the fact that the side B versions of the shorter tracks are almost twice as long is more than a little irritating, but what're ya gonna do?). The intensity of the aforementioned heavier moments are well balanced with the proggier, (pop??)rockish moments which exhibit the more nuanced, one would be tempted to say elegant side of the band's sound. This gossamer, colourful entity dances around the boulders that are the heavy riffs like a stream coming and going amongst a particularly rocky riverside. It works charmingly well.

As mentioned, the music succeeds in incorporating variety and contrasts: Pounding rhythms and head-banging guitar work bouncing off of more restrained, technically demanding stretches of aksak metres of five or seven, and the ever present yet thankfully not overbearing keyboards, which lean a lot more towards the revivalist prog tones (à la Enslaved or Opeth) instead of any Humppa/Polka accordionesque sound one would expect from folk metal, or even the eerie, cavernous tones of synth-centric black or doom metal (and thank the blue heavens for that!). But the thing that unifies all these disparate characteristics, the thing that has made Lumsk the entity that it is, be it in their early, more-or-less-straightforward viking metal days or in their latter prog-folk-rock/metal era, is the memorability of their music: Whether they're playing fast and hard, or showing off their understated, shining expertise, the songwriting is concise, balanced, very organic and natural, and above all: Catchy. They've always been a catchy bunch, and they remain one to this day. People tend to look down on catchiness as a sign that the music is lacking in content, that it's easy and aims for the lowest common denominator, and they're often right. More often than not, I'd reckon, statistically. In this context, however, it only adds to the band's credit that they'd be able to remain catchy and memorable while everything else is going on: Dexterous and layered complexity caught in a harmonious embrace with rugged, rough-edged straightforwardness, resulting in melodies and harmonic progressions which stay with you. There is no denying that a good deal of the catchiness of it all is indebted to its folk roots: Traditional music has survived partially because of how it ingrains itself on the people who live with it as part of their culture.

Just as memorable is the gorgeous cover art, by none other than long-time contributor Per Spjøtvold, who's helped in no small manner to don the band with its unique, readily identifiable identity. His art, from the very first album, has always fit the music extremely well, and has even reflected the changes that the music underneath was and is going through. A bit of a shame, then, that this colourful, intriguing, evoking piece of his would be brought down by half of the content within. This, of course, being a mere aesthetic aside. There's more to say about the music before I call it a day (I've actually been struggling with this review for a week now).

A lot of the songs have this sense of progression (not in the "progressive rock" sense, mind you, but in the sense that things being to happen and present themselves gradually and in an additive manner) that I really enjoy. The very opener being a point in case, with its unassuming ambiance and quiet piano notes being eventually met with chugging guitars, a busy drummer, and an energetic vocal delivery without ever breaking either song structure or even melodic contour. The whole song is a poignant crescendo with enough gravitas and a satisfying enough climax to go with its despondent title ("the dead child"). It doesn't take a long time before the heavier guitars and the twin melodic work reminiscent even of Åsmund Frægdegjevar meet with the irregular rhythms of Troll, in a way that luckily does not evoke nostalgia: Rather a sense of urgency to continue a journey that's been on hold for too long. While the band has been complacent in its chronology, its music has not been so in its continuity. All the while the status of the band's pure metal origins is reaffirmed beyond doubt, and all the while the enamouring folk tunes keep us grounded on what the band's entire mission is. Yet even in the midst of this serious endeavour, songs like Fiolen reminds us that there's always one or two peaceful moments where one can allow oneself to sit down in the green and take in the pure air before the final push to the top. Tenderness and lyricism are there, waiting reassuringly: A brief respite before the final battle.

I used the word "urgency" and "journey" a few sentences ago, and that's the sense that this music overall presents firstly: There is no time for dreamy relaxation as with Det Vilde Kor, nor time for cocky self-assuredness as with Troll: The band has reawakened and is now on a mission. The music stretches and strains as if trying to attain a goal, to physically get to a target destination. Had the band written enough material for a full album, this sense of unstoppable movement would've worked wonders. As it stands, however, much like the album itself, the flow is rudely interrupted, and comes short of resolution.

All of this makes me look like a madman, or someone exacting some sort of petty revenge, but I promise it hurts me, personally, to have to treat this effort in the way that, in the end, I'm treating it. It pains me greatly to have to judge such great music in such a seemingly dismissive way over something that a kinder listener would simply gloss over. I may not be kind, but at least I try to be as close as a human being can get to "truthful", half-heartedly conceding just for a moment that such a notion may actually make some sense, exist in reality, and be attainable. As someone who is reviewing a musical effort, a much expected and much postponed full-length album I cannot in good conscience give a high mark to a work which is only half what it purports to be. What it is is at best an unfinished, inexplicably rushed album (considering all the time they had for themselves) that makes it more than obvious that they had the means and the tools to make it a whole one, and at worst an attempt to extend an EP's worth of perfectly fine-on-its-own material into a full-length, for reasons that, be they what they may, are inexcusable. After such a long wait, an album that is actually half an album twice is simply not acceptable.

It must be said that, in their defense, they didn't just record alternative vocal lines to use on the already recorded songs. The difference in lengths being indication enough that they actually played the whole thing again, with some alterations in order to accommodate the foreign languages of their choosing. There is some merit in that, but how much, really? And is it not worse to think that they went through the trouble of picking up their instruments once more, and consciously playing the songs in a slightly different manner, when they could've funnelled that energy and creativity into writing at least a couple more new songs? Was it really that bad of an idea to release the first six songs as an EP and then maybe releasing the second half, with slightly altered cover art, as an "alternative" EP, maybe to reach a wider audience or insert themselves in an international market? That would've been perfectly respectable. Instead, well, you can see what we got.

All in all a potential stunning EP was realised as a frustratingly flawed LP by a few short-sighted decisions, but not (thankfully) by any artistic inadequacy. If you, like me, were in dire need of getting that Lumsk fix and were left unsatisfied, be glad that there's still Gåte to pick up the slack for both of them. I can't guarantee that the miracle will repeat itself, though. We can only hope that next time around they'll copy their classmate's notes and release a proper album of all-new material before the decade is over.