A foreshadowing of the greatness to come, Kertomuksia, marks the first utterances of Finland’s Tenhi, a folk-influenced progressive trio that has probed the darker corners of the genre for the better of 20 years. Though rough-edged, this 3-track demo exhibits an eclectic mix documenting musical directions the band only explored in its formative years, namely black metal. Those familiar with Tenhi’s formal output will hear their rudimentary characteristics taking shape. Acoustic guitars comprise the music’s infrastructure and melancholia, nature and native traditions serve as the lyrical subject matter. The songwriting is excusably under development, the stitching shows in places. However, some material proved strong enough to include in future releases. Seven-minute bookends “Näkin laulu” and “Tenhi” would be refined, re-recorded and re-released on subsequent full lengths Kauan and Väre, respectively. The versions presented here do lack the effect and staying power of their later forms, yet they remain fascinating archival pieces in their own right. The solemn, raindrop guitar tones of “Näkin laulu” would emanate from darker clouds in 1999. Here the song’s orchestration feels more sinuous and organic, like a long tale spilling from the memory of an old storyteller. "Tenhi" manifests in its initial form as a murky, acoustic guitar duet woven into a nighttime nature sounds collage. A lamenting string ensemble would texture the instrumental’s 2002 re-imagining, creating an overall mistier quality. Kertomuksia’s main point of interest would be the 9-minute "Havuisissa saleissa", Tenhi’s sole foray into what could be called ambient black metal. The track’s harsh, sinister synthesizers, hoarse vocals and muffled blastbeats at times recall early Empyrium or a less refined, early Burzum sound. The faults are about as evident as the influences though. The track feels frail and incongruous, making for an inconsistent mood. Fortunately, the band seems to have been cognizant of these shortcomings and was content to allow the song to remain a one-off relic of youthful experimentation. As is the case with most demos, this collection is perhaps best suited for the more devoted fans. Those with a passing interest should check 2007’s Folk Aesthetic 1996-2006, a noteworthy compilation featuring the band’s unreleased and early works including Kertomuksia. The 3-disc compendium offers an insightful glimpse at how Tenhi matured from promising roots into the masters of atmosphere they are today.
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Time and again the extended play format has been harnessed to stunning effect, especially within the neofolk genre. The abbreviated presentation seems to only sharpen the impact of this particular brand of acoustic music. Had they been drawn out to a full-length’s runtime, Sonne Hagal’s Nidar or Agalloch’s The White EP simply may not have made the same emotional impression. Rota Fortunae has taken history to heart and managed to accomplish a similar feat with their 2016 debut Vespers, a sextet of stirring folk songs powered by arpeggiated acoustic guitar, pensive piano and winding strings, and replete with melodies that recall the masterworks of neofolk greats such as Nebelung and Musk Ox. It’s been a long time coming. Some of these compositions have been waiting in the wings for 8 years. The lengthy gestation has proven healthy, however, as every note feels carefully considered and purposefully placed. The music rarely overstays its welcome or withdraws too soon. Thematic continuity is indeed the crowning attribute here. For nearly 20 minutes, a cedar-encircled ambiance lingers uninhibited. The trance never breaks. This trait may be best evidenced by the swelling segue of opener “Rebirth” into the descending melodies, nylon-stringed harmonics, and lowing cello of “Autumn’s Hymn”, but the transitions occurring within the songs also pay testament to the overall cohesiveness of this work. While best experienced as a whole, the highest emotional peaks arise around the record’s midpoint, with the nostalgic refrain of “Dissolving Light” and the resonant nocturnal air of “Sanctum”. The closing minutes of the piano-driven finale “Repose” are also worth noting. With this EP, Rota Fortunae has offered an enthralling experience. Vespers establishes a world all its own and guides visitors through its inviting terrain along brambly paths illuminated by a steadily setting sun. Like a sojourn in the woods, this is a concise, poignant respite from the clamor of civilization that warrants many return visits. Pablo Ursusson and his bandmates may have roots and repute in the Spanish punk and countercultures of the 1990s, but the music they create under the moniker Sangre de Muerdago exhibits none of the abrasiveness those tags would imply. Instead, the Galician collective repurposes the underground’s creative fires to weave otherworldly folk tales through an earthy lattice of nylon-stringed guitar arpeggios, desolate violas, warbling flutes, and sparse percussion and form delicate laments inspired by the many mysteries of nature. The aid of a few more exotic sonic textures, including the nyckelharpa, hammered dulcimer, and hurdy-gurdy, produces an enchanting, primordial air to complement this stark change of tonality. The band’s 2015 offering and third long-player O Camino das Mans Valeiras finds their neofolk blend at its most potent and pure. Here the compositions, performance, and lyrics coalesce like never before and the mutual heart of the band is fully exposed. The result is a stirring and intimate assortment of dark folk music that dabbles in a bit of black magic to breathe new life into the subtle yet soul-baring stylings of the late-1970s-era Galician folk movement. The record may have been captured north of the Thuringian Forest on a cold, February weekend, but the disposition of these eight songs is markedly inviting. A heartfelt sincerity and ghostly warmth pervades each track, from the album’s windswept opening moments to its beseeching denouement. These features are best witnessed in moments like the rousing a cappella conclusion of “Xordas” and the elegant verses of the title track. Aural diversity is another noteworthy quality. In a genre renowned for a homogeneity that can span whole records and some artists’ entire discographies, Sangre de Muerdago breaks the mold by using evolving song structures to fashion a sound world that moves effortlessly from melody to melody and story to story without compromising the ingrained melancholic tone of the whole. Also, no two tracks are alike. “Mensaxeiros do Pasado”, for example, is a haunting account of a chance meeting with phantoms from the next world that relies heavily on chorale arrangements to evoke the voices of ancient spirits, whereas “De Musgo e Pedra” dismisses vocals almost entirely and hinges its eerie strains on a backdrop of droning strings and hurdy-gurdy. O Camino das Mans Valeiras is more than just a high water mark in Sangre de Muerdago’s output. The album also proves the much-needed point that there is still room for passion and authenticity in the world of neofolk. For its focus, its integrity, and its beauty, O Camino das Mans Valeiras deserves mention alongside 2015’s best folk releases. The odds were stacked against pianist Jan Johansson when he set his fingers on the keys in a Stockholm recording studio in 1962. The rock revolution had reached a pinnacle. Pop acts like The Beatles and The Rolling Stones were coming to prominence and mainstream interest in jazz was waning. Nonetheless, the balding, sad-eyed Swede set out to cut a record consisting entirely of jazz arrangements of 12 Scandinavian folk songs. The resulting Jazz på Svenska ("Jazz in Swedish"), issued in 1964, went on to become one of Sweden’s most successful jazz albums, selling more than a quarter of a million copies. This effort to repurpose his country’s traditional music had a lasting effect on Johansson’s career, even though that was not his intent at the time. "I just wanted to give listeners the possibility of hearing these melodies. Otherwise they would have lain, unknown, in a dusty pile in the loft of a library, which was where I found them," he states on the record’s sleeve. Johansson treats Jazz på Svenska’s source material with the utmost care, placing the folk songs’ emotions and timeless essence at the fore. He eschews the free form and fusion inclinations of the day, choosing instead to faithfully and directly interpret the collection of age-old songs, polkas and marches. All arrangements are for this reason quite sparse. The hum of Georg Riedel's bass serves as the sole accompaniment to Johansson’s mellow, ivory tones. Improvisation is reined in and concise. Nothing more is needed, as Johansson was clearly aware. He is quoted as saying that he was drawn to the pieces by the parallels he drew between them and jazz. "The blue notes attracted me and the songs had a very suggestive rhythm built into the melody,” he said. “It's enough just to play them as they are. I didn't want to embellish them in any way."* The music feels like a product of its environment in many ways. The reanimated melodies conjure an atmosphere that recalls the feelings one has while staring out into the oppressive cold of a winter’s night from the comfort of a warm fireside room. Melancholy, like the sadness caused by the lingering memories of troubles past, is also a key component here. While superficially peaceful, the music seems to carry the weight of knowing that hardships lay just ahead to counter life’s joys. In 1968, Johansson died in a car crash on his way to gig. He was 37 years old. His sons, Anders and Jens, now work diligently to maintain his musical legacy. This is truly fortunate because this landmark record not only serves as a vessel for preserving Sweden’s musical heritage. It proves to be a soul-stirring listen, boasting a palette of deeply-rooted human emotions that countless generations can relate to. These attributes earn Jazz på Svenska a place in the canon of classic jazz albums. *Allaboutjazz.com
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