In the case of ‘Spirit’ it was recorded in Stockholm and produced by Erik ‘Errka’ Petersson.

All three EPs represent different genres of music. (NMC has reviews of the other two).

‘Mind’ delves into her thoughts and experiences regarding illness and mortality while ‘Body’ celebrates the physicality of existence, emphasising the importance of embracing and enjoying your body despite societal pressures and personal struggles.

Stina said right from the start that ‘Spirit’ would examine her worldview and beliefs about the state of the world. It would contain both reflections on current events, such as political elections, as well as expressions of hope and values.

I’ll lay my cards on the table. That last statement put me on my guard. I am one of very few commentators in this business that does not hold liberal views. In contrast about 98% of the music world does. I would class myself as centre-right.

That has caused numerous problems in the 10 years I’ve been doing this and I’ve been hounded out of two other publications because of those views. It’s why I set up on my own. I wasn’t looking forward to encountering opinions with which I could not agree from an artist for whom I have great respect.

But that’s not how it turned out, at all. Lyrically all the songs are ambiguous in content and essentially declare the same world weariness that everyone else endures along with the occasional expression of hope that things can only get better.

Politics is actually in short supply. Anyone expecting “Orpo Out!” (the Finnish Prime Minister), never mind “Feed Trump to the sharks!” is in for a disappointment.

It’s the music as much as the words that grab the attention and it is a very pleasant surprise. I’d call the combination secular gospel. If there is one genre I wasn’t expecting its gospel and definitely not this unique variation on it.

That gospel feel is there in the first track, ‘Is this happening?’ in a subtle way via a church organ that’s straight out of the Bible Belt and which finds its way back into others, later.

Otherwise it’s a dream pop becomes nightmare pop track as Stina poses the question everyone must be asking right now as the norms of the world fragment and disintegrate. She might have added more emphasis by titling it ‘Is this really happening’?

The BBC here in the UK recently ran a repeat of the apocalyptic drama ‘Threads’, last shown in the 1980s and which relates the impact and outcome of a nuclear bomb exploding close to the city of Sheffield and the dreadful lot of the survivors. It really is dystopian stuff, hard to watch at times, and this song would have made a fitting finale.

Apart from that, it’s quite gorgeous. She has a gift for this sort of thing.

‘On the Edge’ follows and offers a more upbeat take.

“Many times I’ve been alone in my life…

…I thought I was running out of time

But now I know that change will come

Like the morning and the sun”.

Or does it? Could that be no more than a brief respite?

“Days run ahead of me

And I think of all the ways I’m failing

Trying to keep my light alive

Even though I see it’s wavering away”.

Then,

“I never thought I’d spend my time here dying

I never thought I would be on the edge

All of the time”.

That church organ is back and it is in funereal mode on this song, one that for my money could equally have turned up in ‘Mind’ or ‘Body’, and it makes for a wonderful contrast with the soulful dynamism of the last verse.

I love her lyricism, too.

“I never thought I would need fortifying

I never thought I could be mortified of trying.”

Fiona Apple, eat your heart out.

‘I believe’ immediately brings to mind Frankie Laine’s song of the same title, which holds the record for the highest number of weeks at #1 in the UK charts, in 1953 (not Bryan Adams).

There is still conjecture about its meaning. The most popular conclusion is that it is a hymn – that the things he lists that he believes in are those that seal his faith in God. Another interpretation is that he just believes in life.

And so to the Stinako song, which sets its stall out right from the start.

“I don’t believe in God

I just believe in kindness of your heart”.

It seems to me that Stina is subscribing here to the view that life is made up of positives and negatives, all of which have to be experienced in order to value the experience, despite the pain the negatives cause.

Towards the end she lists, as did Laine, those experiences, but amongst the tangibles (music, peace, doing the right thing etc), are the intangibles (dolphins and bears; peaches and pears) which is almost an existential view – peripherals that have little substance but which have a disproportionate impact on living. She could have easily mentioned TikTok and Reels; or Temu and Shein, if they rhymed.

And I love the line, a sarcastic one, I’m sure: “And I believe in science; we should all do that.” Is she an anti vaxxer?

Musically, this one heads off in a different direction altogether, developing into a real rocker and ending up as a jam. It should be dynamite, live.

The final track, ‘Songs of Freedom’ serves as an antidote to the opener, if not to the others, and the gospel is in full flow. Hallelujah! Praise the Lord!

The people are in the streets and everyone’s happy. No man is an island. QED.

And yet, is there a sting in the tail? “And for a day they’re happy”. Is it all rather more ephemeral than they would wish for?

So once again Stinako present us with the best of Finnish alt/art rock and pop. Music that you can take at face value and just sit back and enjoy, or spend all night brooding over the lyrics.

As for this little diversion into gospel, well firstly I hope she doesn’t draw a line under it now and that in the fullness of time more will come. It adds another string to her already mightily impressive bow.

Secondly, I’m reminded of Jenny Lewis, whose band, Rilo Kiley, was struggling for recognition despite the excellence of their work, prompting her to chance her arm with the Gospel-inspired ‘Rabbit Fur Coat’ in 2006. She never looked back.

8.5/10

The ‘Spirit’ EP was recorded in Stockholm with the musicians Hannah Tolf, Xenia Kriisin, Peter Morén, Wille Alin and Erik ‘Errka’ Petersson. Recorded at No Regrets Fonogram studio.

Incidentally, if you are in Helsinki the play Angels of America is on at the National Theatre. Stina composed the music.

Find her on:

Website: https://www.stinakoistinen.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/stinakomusic

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/stinak0/

The post Stinako (Finland) – Spirit (EP) appeared first on Nordic Music Central.

This year’s ‘Melody Maker’is the fourth album from Steffen Westmark, aka Peppermint B and this is the title track. It’s a cracker.

He’s the front man of the rock band The Blue Van, but here Westmark has ventured into a more introspective and indie-influenced pop sound with this solo project.

And here’s a thing – as a songwriting mentor at a music academy, he has closely observed his students, and their experiences have left a clear imprint on both the lyrics and the sound. The pupil influences the teacher. That’s not what you normally find at a music school, I hear.

We ran the rule over the single ‘Raised by sitcoms’ earlier this year, a track that is also listed on the album, and noted “a ridiculously catchy, hook-filled little number in which from the opening guitar riff it could easily be a sitcom theme tune in its own right… very 1970s/80s East Coast soft rock, with hints of Tom Petty… I’d go so far as to say that it might even have been the B side of ‘American Girl.’ 

And so with ‘Melody Maker’.

With its jangly guitars, a U2 like beat and riff, powerful hooks, a message (the artist fights for peace and freedom in a chaotic world) and a bright sunny vocal, enhanced by the presence of a former student of his, Stella (Sophie Darum), who has all the hallmarks of Sweden’s Elliphant, this song has ‘hit’ plastered all over it.

And I mean in the UK, not Denmark.

The album is mastered by Jan Due and also features contributions from Rishi Dhir (Elephant Stone), the Scottish-Danish Lizzie Nielsen, Linda Marí Josefsen (Marí), Ida Ploug, and Maiken Holmbeck.

https://open.spotify.com/track/1KcwiKHQguF3RnQOoRvTzK?si=6207b03af102417d

Find him on:

Find him on:

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/PeppermintBmusic

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/peppermintbmusic

The post Peppermint B (Denmark) – Melody Maker (album title track) appeared first on Nordic Music Central.

The gap between the release of their 10 studio albums was only one year when they first began in 1997-8, thereafter becoming two from ‘Oceanborn’ (1998) until ‘Once’ (2004), then three years (‘Dark Passion Play’), becoming four (‘Imaginaerum’) then five (‘Human. :II: Nature’ although the 20^th anniversary compilation ‘Decades’ album intervened in 2018), then back to four again (actually four and a half) for ‘Yesterwynde’.

There have of course been numerous other live, compilation and video albums along the way but it is on studio albums that bands are judged.

Statistics can be juggled to imply anything but output has decreased and Nightwish has for the moment at least abandoned touring too (it’s rare for a band not to tour a new album at all) with no indication if and when it will resume.

There have been personnel changes along the way including one, the exit of bassist/vocalist Marco Hietala in 2021, which almost finished them off. Anyone who viewed the remastered HD version of the seminal Wacken live performance in 2013, which has mysteriously been taken down from You Tube in the last few days having been there for a few years, will know from that alone what a difference he made to live shows.

Meanwhile, it has been rumoured that Floor Jansen’s increasing solo work might be causing concern within the band while I heard on the grapevine that she is unhappy about their low key publicity approach which renders them invisible beyond the metal fraternity. Have you ever heard Nightwish on the radio? Or seen them on television? Please tell me if you have.

All the speculation above might amount to nothing but one thing is certain. Nightwish is probably under greater scrutiny than it ever has been right now amongst its own supporters and that is evident from some of the comments being made online on its own social pages.

Two examples which are live right now, on the afternoon of Sunday 22^nd September:

“Not as good as your older music; seemed to have lost your way.”

“When did Nightwish become so BORING? Nightwish used to be magic, now it feels like science and experiment. The new album is a 3/10 at most for me. In a week I won’t be listening to it anymore.”

We ran the rule over two of the three singles that were pre-released tracks from ‘Yesterwynde’ and the overall opinion was that the first one, ‘Perfume of the timeless’ was somewhat meh by their standards and the second, ‘The Day Of…’, was better – “big, brash, bombastic and melodic” but overly and convolutedly wordy. I was tempted to say they’d taken the day off, but refrained out of respect.

Moreover they appeared to have mislaid their ability to concoct a memorable hook (as opposed to a melody) – something they hitherto did par excellence – and the songs seemed merely to have taken over where ‘Human. :II: Nature’ left off.

On the other handwe acknowledged that Nightwish albums are conceptual affairs and that within the full album individual tracks might take on greater significance and value.

That raises the question of what the album is actually about. We know that it is the third and final one in a trilogy that began with ‘Endless forms most beautiful’ almost a decade ago and that those albums ranged over the human condition in how it relates to science and nature.

‘The Day of…’ concerns excessive angst about the world around us and how we should ignore it and just get on with our lives (taking some of the messages in ‘Noise’, the opening trackon ‘Human. :II: Nature’, a stage further perhaps) and offering a clue to the essence of ‘Yesterwynde’. That winding backwards to less frenetic times might just be to our benefit.

But then as the video track to ‘The Greatest Show on Earth’ on the ‘Endless forms most beautiful’ album showed when played live, when exactly were those less frenetic times?

Keyboardist and main songwriter Tuomas Holopainen has spoken about “gratitude for the uniqueness of our existence” which also plays on some of the many emotions generated by ‘The Greatest Show on Earth’.

‘Yesterwynde’ is a monster 23-track album but 11 of them are orchestral versions of the originals with the exception of the partly acoustic ‘Hiraeth’. It’s the second time recently they’ve effectively offered a double album, the difference on ‘Human. :II: Nature’ being that the second half was original orchestral works.

The album title is the opening track. It actually starts with the sound of a cinematic tape, running backwards I’d guess, which would ‘set the scene’ for what follows and plays to no more than acoustic guitar, pipes and a choir.  

Its quietness and reverence is palpable, almost as if you’ve inadvertently entered a private service in a chapel as an ethereal male choir sings of cementing ties between generations, latterly described by Floor Jansen once she puts in an appearance as “an island of a shipless crew”.

No man is an island is, I guess, the message,

It’s unusual for Nightwish to commence an album with what is close to a medieval ballad but it is effective.

I’m reminded of the Decades tour in 2018 when they opened with the solo, Troy Donockley-delivered, ‘Swanheart’ before lurching into ‘Dark Chest of Wonders’. The contrast here is greater still with the almost 10-minute long ‘An Ocean of Strange Islands’ next up, which offers the full panoply of Nightwish’s talents in the form of a driving beat with frequent double kick bass passages, powerful orchestral effects, ripping guitar chords (and the obligatory, perfectly apt short solo), subtle key changes, majestic vocals from Jansen and a complex arrangement that throws in three bridges, each different from the others, the first one being straight out of ‘Music’ on the previous album.

The seas and oceans have long been a common theme in Nightwish songs and this one seems to concern a seafarer on a journey across mystical waters encountering multiple adventures along the way, each of them relatable to those your average Joe’s experiences in his own life expedition.

I’m tempted to call it an opus but thus far I can’t justifiably compare it to the likes of ‘Ghost Love Score’, ‘The Poet & the Pendulum’ and ‘The Greatest Show…’, partly because I can’t come to terms with the fully 2 ^1/4 minute long pipes outro, which, beautiful as it is (clear hints of ‘The Poet & the Pendulum’), frankly, kills it stone cold dead. It sounds like it should be a separate song, (again, like ‘Swanheart’).

‘The Antikythera Mechanism’ sounds like an update to the Heimlich Maneuver to help victims of choking, or perhaps an advanced sexual position from the Karma Sutra.

In fact it is an ancient Greek device that was used to predict astronomical events and is considered the world’s first analogue computer. Eat your heart out Manchester University.

Nightwish are masters at finding obscure subjects like this to write songs about and believe it or not there’s already a song with a similar title that was released by one Bear McCreary earlier this year. If analogue synthesisers are back in fashion, why not?

It’s fairly routine early on, Troy Donockley gets a chance to contribute a few lines (not entirely convincingly), and it channels the previous album (a touch of ‘Tribal’ here, a dose of ‘Endlessness’ there) but is pepped up by an almost rap-like staccato chorus from Jansen and then an almighty, frenetic instrumental bridge that could have been lifted from the soundtrack to The Omen.

Lyrically there are all sorts of allusions and allegories that you’ve heard numerous times before – avatars, libraries, stars, tides and Lucy (the early hominin, the one that’s out of Africa and which turns up in ‘The Greatest Show…’), this time with her prints transported to the moon by the early astronauts (2001 – A Space Odyssey?)

It’s all a bit convoluted, something of a word salad, but it works and I reckon it will go down very well live.

Those two singles I mentioned earlier follow as tracks #4 and #5.

To summarise the earlier reviews, ‘Perfume of the Timeless’(track 5) – “ I can’t help but feel, and it pains me, that on this song they sound more like an aspiring, ambitious Nightwish wannabe band than Nightwish itself; one that’s knocking on the door of promotion from the Championship rather than the 28 times Premier League title holders.”

Meanwhile, ‘The Day of…’(track 4) review says “It’s big, it’s brash, powerful, bombastic, and impressive, with the pleasing return of the schoolboy choir and a mid-section combined keys/guitar bridge that will probably blow your head off in concert. But all this is de rigueur. That’s what you expect from Nightwish. They are renowned for it. It’s melodic for sure and it has a great little key change of the kind they excel at but what it doesn’t have is a memorable hook (or two, or three), something they used to churn out with the same regularity as reports of another stabbing on the 9 o’clock news bulletin.”

(Please feel free to read those reviews in full, they are much more detailed).

‘Sway’ reintroduces Donockley, this time combining with Floor Jansen in a similar fashion to how they did on ‘Harvest’ and especially ‘How’s the heart’ on the previous album.

Again, these songs are so different from traditional Nightwish fare that they could be another artist or band altogether or at least offshoots from Tuomas Holopainen’s other projects.

Examined as a standalone song it is actually quite delightful; Jansen’s sweet soprano, Donockley’s English North Country tenor, the expertly plucked acoustic guitar and the pipes combining perfectly and underscored by a sophisticated piano melody.

In isolation you’d never know it was a metal band at the heart of this.

I don’t know who the “Child of Mankind” is who is solicited to “sway away (our) woe and discontent” and “Adorn your garden with a perfect day”. Jesus? Has Holopainen suddenly gone all religious?

Neither do I know what “the big reveal” that “awaits us all” is in the bridge but it is so sombre I assume it must be the Grim Reaper.

Ergo the message is, again, get on with your life. It’s later than you think. Or something like that.

‘The Children Of ‘Ata’ tells the true story of six Tongan teenage castaways who were shipwrecked on the uninhabited island of ʻAta in 1965 and lived there for 15 months until their rescue. Long thought dead they adapted ingeniously to their circumstances and were eventually discovered and rescued.

Again this is the sort of thing Tuomas Holopainen loves (and I’d love him to have a crack at a song about the Australian Rabbit Proof Fence and the three child runaways who escaped aboriginal detention along its thousands of kilometres, even if Peter Gabriel produced an excellent soundtrack for the 2002 film).

With a contribution from native singers from Tonga, again there are strong elements of ‘Human. :II: Nature’’ songs in it, mixed, unusually, with a techno riff and a poppy vibe before it becomes an absolute stonker of an anthem with the ultimate conclusion, not unusual for Nightwish, that “We are all the Children of ‘Ata” and (yes), that “We were there”.

‘Something whispered follow me’ has the attributes of a horror movie title. It’s actually quite the opposite. A song of self-realisation, of the sort of motivation that drove Florence Nightingale to nurse in war zones, or Rosa Perks to resist apartheid, or Malala Yousafzai to withstand the Taliban, or Noel Chavasse to win two Victoria Crosses as a medic rather than a warrior, carrying injured soldiers to safety under withering enemy fire without even a gun to shoot back with as he refused to carry one. (A possible future storyline there, Tuomas?).

“Then one day something whispered follow me/One life, one strike to follow something real/Once there was something hidden within me (Within me)/Stardust to dust, a tapestry in between.”

And that final line is fabulous. Seven words that mean ‘life.’ A tapestry that is for us and us alone to paint. Carpe Diem or die trying.

Musically it is notable for guitarist Emppu Vuorinen taking the lead, a rare event, with Holopainen syncopating the rhythm section, some great piano work from the keyboardist too, and for an utterly beautiful vocal contribution from Jansen, especially in the outro together with Donockley.

This is one hell of a song. An outstanding track I’m sure I’ll play over and over again and one that will inevitably join the pantheon of Nightwish’s greatest works.

One can’t know for sure what the lyrics to ‘Spider Silk’testify but there is the possibility that they reference someone or something that has “tied up” and used the band, or the writer, who presumably is Tuomas Holopainen.

Whoever it is carries a cross on their back so they can’t be in great shape either.

It is the sort of song that might be associated with the way Marco Hietala saw the impact of the music business on him when he decided to quit three years ago.

For the first 60 seconds you wouldn’t know this is a Nightwish song; a long drawn out piano intro (another one, the piano gets a good look in on this album), punctuated by unusual guitar sounds and with an earthy, slightly tinny production quality.

It’s an unremarkable song until Jansen enters after which it is a belt fest, especially in the bridge where she is multi-tracked impressively , then the instruments take over the repeating melody before Jansen returns, this time with Donockley in tow, to join with them for a final bash and the bells are striking goose bump o’clock.

‘Hiraeth’ could be something out of The Bible but turns out to be a Welsh word expressing feelings of longing and nostalgia.

If Troy Donockley, who introduces the song with the same tone Richard Burton used on ‘War of the Worlds’ and later goes on to mimic Lee Marvin on ‘Wanderin’ Star’, has played a relatively minor role so far it’s a case of all change here.

He combines beautifully with Floor Jansen on a song which again reprises the style of ‘How’s the heart’ until the arrival of two separate instrumental/vocal breaks that are so dramatic they at first seem totally incongruous. The second one reminds me of the wholly unexpected one at the conclusion of Arcade Fire’s ‘Suburban War’.

It’s an acoustic ballad – rock banger – and back again several times over.

Only Nightwish could pull off something like that, and they do.

I’ve read the lyrics to ‘The Weave’ until there are spots before my eyes and still can’t fathom it out. Death seems to be calling again (it’s never far away from a metal song) and the Reaper is back in the house.

The key line appears to be “Old ghosts dancing to a new birth” but again I’m none the wiser. The best I can manage is that it refers to the propensity of the bad guys – dictators, warmongers, narcissistic types (are you listening Starmer?) – to reproduce themselves. Hitler – Mao – Pol Pot – Putin – you get the idea.

“Knit from souls vanished long gone/Into one, a Reaper’s sideshow.”

The heaviest track on the album, it isn’t the best but it is enlivened by some intricate weaving (pardon the pun) of very rapidly played guitar, bass and drum notes and even a little classical section that is thrown in midway to say hello.

Incidentally, I haven’t mentioned the contribution of the rhythm section in any depth so far. I don’t really need to. Everyone knows by now that the human metronome, Kai Hahto, will do everything asked of him to perfection while bassist Jukka Koskinen, playing on his first studio album, demonstrates that he is more than merely up to the task of filling big boots.

And so to the final track, (apart from the orchestrated versions which I won’t be covering here as this review is too long already).

It is traditional for Nightwish albums to conclude with an opus or at least an epic track but this time they opted to finish with the delicate ‘Lanternlight’, which goes round on a loop to reflect the gentle opener, the title track, and ends with that same flickering, unraveling tape, which cuts out and dies as the ‘Yesterwynde’ unravels.

It’s an absolutely stunning piece to finish off with. Listeners will put their own interpretation on the lyrics but what stood out to me is the similarity to the final section of ‘The Poet & the Pendulum’ (‘Mother and Father’) in which, inter alia, Tuomas Holopainen finds the unconditional love of his parents and comes to terms with what he/they did to founder member and vocalist Tarja Turunen.

That song is one of both closure and reawakening and I suspect that it might be a message coming out of this one, too.

How that develops remains to be seen.

In conclusion, if Nightwish was a new band they would be hailed as the Second Coming for this album.

But for one that is 26 years old and has thrilled audiences around the world throughout that time it will be under intense scrutiny as all such bands are with each new release.

For my money this album signifies their ultimate transition, a quarter century after their foundation, from metal band to philosophising, real ale drinking, storytelling beard strokers. Or to put it another way, more prog than metal.

It will assuredly win them new fans amongst the musical cognoscenti (assuming they actually want them) but equally will probably lose some of the hordes of gyrating head bangers they had accrued along their journey, the length and breadth of the planet.

8/10

Find them on:

Website: https://www.nightwish.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/nightwish

Twitter: https://twitter.com/NightwishBand

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/nightwish/

The post Nightwish (Finland) – Yesterwynde (album) appeared first on Nordic Music Central.

So what of ‘Body’, which one might reasonably assume would be even more predisposed to refer and relate to that condition?

Well, in her words it “celebrates the physicality of existence, emphasising the importance of embracing and enjoying your body despite societal pressures and personal struggles. It acknowledges the challenges of living with illness or body image issues but also emphasises the resilience and capabilities of the human body. It also celebrates the joy of being alive. Body is a celebration of all bodily experiences from panic attacks to falling in love.”

In other words get on with your life and I’ll get on with mine, thank you.

Not being one to introduce the listener to concepts gently she launches straight into the fray with ‘Panic’ in which she’s crying on the dance floor (has there been a murder? Where’s Sophie?) and can’t breathe. Neither we nor she knows what he/she has done to her but it’s pretty serious because Sister Sledge are shrieking in the background.

But there’s something about the way she tells the story, to a dance beat that’s come straight from Ibiza and staccato piano chords that gravitate into a sexy little bridge and then later outro, that tells you she’s more than in control. Nothing to see here; move along.

I’ve never heard anything quite like this from Stinako. Her versatility is remarkable. It reminds me of when Fiona Apple went off script on ‘Hot butter’ from her ‘Idler wheel’ album.

And yes we are talking the same level of class.

‘Forgiveness’ is how I remember biology classes at school before we started dissecting mice and I changed streams to basket weaving. Rushing blood keeping her alive; skin; fat; bone and muscle. It’s a lyrical diagram. But the upshot is that for all the bodily functions – good, bad and ugly – if there was no love left she would be nothing but a shell.

Until now the structure has loosely followed that of ‘Panic’, with the same jackhammer techno backing and odd time signature (from Tapio Viitasaari, who seems to have become a regular collaborateur, comme on dit), albeit more fortissimo.

But then after a heavenly spoken bridge it explodes into the clubland stratosphere then rocks out for a while before it returns like a rondo to its opening statement.

It’s up and down like a rollercoaster. But then so is the notion of forgiveness.

I’m struggling to find the words to describe ‘Looking for a friend’. I haven’t heard the juxtaposition of styles employed here anywhere before.

The first half of it is a pop banger, right up there with her Finnish language single from a couple of years ago, ‘Pelasta mut’, in the big tune stakes. Everything about it is perfect pop with a terrifically formidable and purposeful vocal accompaniment and I’m hearing a chart topper and a Eurovision entry. It would probably win that, too.

Then in Part 2 it unaccountably turns into a scenario where a pissed up Keith Emerson has just lurched into the Rose and Crown, kicked the piano man off his stool and proceeded to bore everyone with some tuneless honky tonk.

Its two different songs welded into one.

For the first time ever I think Stina made a mistake here. Take the first half through to its natural conclusion, perhaps using a shorter piece of that piano bit as a novel bridge, then upping the tempo into an orgasmic finale and it’s a guaranteed hit. Period.

‘Superbody’ is the star of the show, as I reckon it should be. “Everybody has a body/some kind of superbody.” It’s just another way of saying “We are beautiful”, isn’t it, Christina?

So many styles are employed in this song it’s hard to keep up. Early doors she mimics the slightly childish vocal style of Das Body’s Ellie Linden and the song itself channels that band’s oddball soft rock propensity.

Then it passes via a gospel passage into something that might have come out of the mouth of Carly Rae Jepsen or Katy Perry. After that it gets really tasty, a modern prog extravaganza that  Yes would have been proud of except that Jon Anderson could never generate the vocal power that Stina does, both up front and harmonising with herself.

It’s all rather sumptuous and confirms yet again that Stinako never ceases to come up with something fresh and new.

She could be a hit machine if she wanted to but she’s too erudite for that and will always seek a way to tantalise her audience. Long may that continue to be so.

Of all the artists I would like to see succeed over here, where a year from now we’ll all be bored stupid by an underwhelming foul mouthed Oasis reunion, which has attracted millions of people at hundreds of quid a time – that’s how low we’ve sunk – it’s Stina Koistinen. She has the level of quality that seems to have largely gone walkabout here.

8/10 (would be 9 if not for the ‘Looking for a friend’ debacle).

Find her on:

Website: https://www.stinakoistinen.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/stinakomusic

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/stinak0/

Tapio Viitasaari:

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/tapio.viitasaari

The post Stinako (Finland) – Body (EP) appeared first on Nordic Music Central.

I described them as a ‘breath of fresh air’ when they first arrived on the scene and even, after one early gig, as the most innovative and dynamic band to be found anywhere in Europe, never mind Norway.

But second album ‘Cheater’ (2021) didn’t quite live up to the high bar set by the debut one, ‘Birthday’ (2019 and my album of the year). Then they experimented a little on an EP, ‘This is our House’ (2022) which even included an interpretation of a classical piece by Bach. You couldn’t describe it as being in the middle of the street.

Superlatives have a short lifespan in this most fickle of all businesses and I could name a couple of Norwegian bands who could give them a run for their money now in each of the garage and math rock categories. Trendsetters won’t sit in glorious isolation for long.

So what’s a band to do, stick or twist? Give the punters what they already know and love, or try something new for fear of becoming typecast and running out of steam?

When NMC reviewed the title track, which was released as a single in April, we mentioned they’d been searching for a “cleaner and leaner” sound (traditionally there’s so much going on that it’s a cacophony) and had achieved it, apart from a questionable guitar riff which sounds like an attempt by earthlings to contact the aliens, or vice versa.

It’s melodic too, almost ballad-like, which is highly unusual for this all-action band which has been known to dance on stage with some of the oddball, oftentimes grotesque creatures from the weird Japanese Studio Ghibli animation from where they take their band’s name.

And that’s another thing about Pom Poko that you have to remember. Ragnhild, Martin, Jonas and Ola are unashamedly in it to have a good time and that’s unlikely to change. I saw them in Manchester earlier this year and they generated enough energy to have powered the city through the rest of the night.

And they’ve been doing that ever since I first saw them seven years ago. Some of Manchester’s less energetic footballers might care to take note.

They paint pictures of everyday life too; no wistful dreaming. They say what they see. That is their forte. In the opening track ‘Growing story’, a traditional Pom Poko construction complete with Martin Tonne’s guitar contribution that might be available as an algebraic equation on a blackboard, Ragnhild charts the progress of an affair that starts playing darts and ends at dinner parties.

And then in the following track, ‘My Family’ they follow a similar theme of development and change within the context of their own little family and its touring home on wheels but this time at breakneck speed and with a percussion contribution that could easily result in concussion.

‘Go’ was previously released as a single and it’s quickly evident why. It could be a hoedown, another Olympics 100-metre race, with enormous chunky guitar chords from Martin Tonne and the closest to an actual melody that I’ve heard being played on the drums by Ola Djupvik. Even the opening bars might be employed as police siren. The track of the album for me.

‘Never Saw It Coming’, to a catchy bass line by the unsung but excellent Jonas Krøvel, punctuated by a manic Tonne solo, is a musical version of the sort of social observation humour you get from the likes of Peter Kay or an episode of The Royle Family, chronicling difficult and embarrassing family moments.

The disjointed and utterly frenzied ‘Big Life’, which is being played in at least two time signatures at once by the sound of it, seems to be all about dreaming big even if not winning big. “This day is the big one”, intones Ragnhild, who knows you have to be in it to win it.

The opening lines to the final track, ‘Fumble’ –

“A man told me people move ’cause they don’t know what to talk about

And then I left the room, guess I could’ve asked about his life”

remind me of the Dane Lydmor’s “I could be fun like rollercoaster rides, somebody says/…and walks away”.

The human condition. How we are all islands and for the most part merely ships that pass in the night. How you can struggle to remember the qualities of someone you called a friend, as recently as a few years ago, but can now barely picture in your mind.

Backed in the main by acoustic guitar and vocal harmonising it’s a delightful little pop ballad that stands in contrast with much of the rest of the album. It shows what they are capable off in alternative styles.

Not all the tracks are quite so appealing though. ‘You’re not helping’ doesn’t help itself by failing to find any variety of melody and Ragnhild sounds like she’s reading out the weekly shopping list while ‘Pile of Wood’ and ‘Bell’ are fairly run of the mill by their own standards.

They have made some things cleaner and leaner for sure, but is that a good thing? The tracks that work best for me, with the exception of ‘Fumble’, are the old school Pom Poko standards with screeching guitars, thudding basses, obscure beats, and mathematical equations used in their construction.

They are going through a transitory stage, and album #4, a few years down the line, could see a full blown return to ‘Birthday’, or a gentler, kinder, more tuneful offer, or anywhere in between.

Whichever path they follow though you can bet they’ll have a bloody good time doing it.

8/10

Pom Poko will be touring the UK again later in the year, in October. See the ‘Events’ section of their Facebook page for details.

Find them on:

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pompokounofficial

X/Twitter: https://twitter.com/pompokotheband

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/pompokounofficial/

The post Pom Poko (Norway) – Champion (album) appeared first on Nordic Music Central.

That is definitely true of Tulle, who featured in NMC back in April. I had the choice of her or label mate MaVe tonight but while MaVe sounds interesting I was lured back into Tulle’s grasp like a fly into her web.

Tulle is an exponent of ‘Death Pop’ and if you didn’t already know that you would rapidly become acquainted with it just by reading the six title tracks off this EP, ‘Onions.’

You get a flavour of what to expect when you read her one line artist profile on Spotify too – “My mother says it’s my own fault”, which is a line from the single ‘Can’t be saved’. And didn’t Carrie (White) say much the same thing in the eponymous Stephen King novel and film?

When we ran the rule over that single back in April (it is also an EP track here) I remarked that despite the dispiriting nature of her song titles, and even this oddball sub-genre that she operates in, I didn’t find her work to be in the least bit depressing and that ‘Can’t be saved’ channels the sarcastically upbeat anti-folk/gospel sound on Jenny Lewis’ brilliant ‘Rabbit fur coat’ album from 2006 and with Cranberries overtones.

So what are we to make of the EP? The first observation is that the titles could be chapter headings from The Exorcist or The Omen. They are: ‘Oh Holy Father’; ‘Can’t be saved’; ‘Happy Birthday (Interlude)’; ’Jesus isn’t here; he’s on hiatus’; ‘Eulogy’; and ‘You’re scaring me’.

Not exactly bedtime reading for the kiddies.

I could easily have singled out any of the eerie, haunting, but sharply observational tracks as a sample one here. She’s like a Peter Kay female alter ego, noting everything and missing nothing but serving up what she sees with a deathly pallor rather than humour.

Even ‘Happy Birthday (Interlude)’ sounds like a eulogy. But then the track actually called ‘Eulogy’, while it contains some of the most despondent piano chords you’ll hear, will give you goose bumps as she ramps up the drama.

‘Jesus isn’t here, he’s on hiatus’ is a fascinating track, sung softly over a spoken part which I assume is a sermon and concluding with the funeral oration, what sounds like the soundtrack from ‘The Greatest Story Ever Told’ and a single, final bell.

The philosophy reminds me of that of the character in Flannery O’Connor’s novel ‘Wise Blood’, an atheist who forms the ‘Holy Church of Christ Without Christ,’ and which was the inspiration for US artist Weyes Blood (Natalie Mering).

While the final track ‘You’re scaring me!’ is the EP’s focus track it’s a bit of an outlier, a noise banger that harks back to her earlier singles, so I ultimately opted for ‘Jesus isn’t here, he’s on hiatus’ as the sample one.

I’ve already mentioned Jenny Lewis, and then Weyes Blood. Another artist she brings to mind is the (now regrettably retired) Emmy the Great, for the deftness of her lyricism and pointed religious references. If you are familiar with those three artists, try to imagine one cloned from all of them. Yes, she’s that good.

If that sounds too good to be true, it isn’t. And what’s more this lady can sing.

I confidently expect a BBC6 Music producer to pick up on this EP and to ensure it gets played over here, pronto. Tulle shouldn’t be on hiatus for long.

9/10

Find her on:

Website: https://www.tullemusic.com/

Facebook https://www.facebook.com/tullemusic

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/tullemusic/

The post Tulle (Norway) – Jesus isn’t here, he’s on hiatus (sample track from the EP Onions) appeared first on Nordic Music Central.

There are more reference points there – some theirs; some mine, than there are in a scientific paper presented to the Royal Institution by Stephen Hawking, including the 1960s Mersey Sound, Britpop (notably the Manchester version, the rest is a little blurred if you’ll pardon the pun), Morrissey, The Libertines, U2, Herman’s Hermits and Motown!

(And just as a matter of passing interest I see I felt obliged too to make a mention of Oldham’s finest, the astrophysicist Dr Brian Cox of D:Ream, who played live keyboards for that band, and who bears more than a passing resemblance to Mansfield’s writer/singer/guitarist Christian Stage.

D:Ream were famous for ‘Things can only get better’ in 1994, which the Labour Party adopted as its slogan for the 1997 General Election and – hey presto! – it has been resurrected for the one just called in the last few days).

I’ve rambled on a bit about these influences because what Mansfield amounts to is a potted history of contemporary British music over the latter half of the 20^th century. The influences are so diverse that you’d think they were in danger of creating a monster, a musical equivalent of the creature made up of a goat, a pig and a chimpanzee that was intended to scare off property developers in the 1990s black TV comedy ‘The League of Gentlemen’.

In fact what they created should ultimately become an exhibit in a museum of contemporary history, or perhaps a vinyl version of this second album, ‘For all the right reasons’, should be included in one of those packages we occasionally blast into space for the delectation of inquisitive aliens living light years away, as a précis of the music of several Earth eras.

None of that is to say that any of Mansfield’s work is derivative. The underlying stylisation is there for sure but their product is unashamedly all theirs. They aren’t so much re-writing these eras as redefining them.

And ‘For all the right reasons’ is a veritable cornucopia of delights, from the opening chord of ‘Let’s stop pretending’, an identikit version of the equivalent on ‘A hard day’s night’ to the metronomic Ringo-style percussion in ‘Chasing after you’ to the Oasis-like chords of ‘Someone Else’ to the socially observant and Hollies-reminiscent ‘London Riots’ and the charming, orchestrated break-up ballad ‘A world without you’, which could be the follow up to Peter & Gordon’s Lennon/McCartney masterpiece ‘A world without love’’.

Then there’s ‘Dreams of desire’, with a guitar/bass riff you won’t be able to get out of your head, the heavier and more serious ‘The nature of a troubled mind’ with what sound like Morrissey-inspired lyrics, and the sing-along, anthemic and sharply titled ‘The sky’s in love with you’, which I’m sure must be a pun on Herb Alpert’s classic!

But we aren’t finished yet.

I thought they’d hired Liam Gallagher to sing ‘Tales of everyday life’, a song that might have just missed the cut on ‘Definitely maybe’, except that it’s definitely better.

There is no option not to listen to ‘No is not an option’, a thumping no-nonsense rocker more in keeping with the Stones and which includes the guitar shredding I would have liked to hear a little more of.

Then, unexpectedly, they slow it right down into a pensive, reflective ballad with lyrics more typical of Elbow in the ultimate track ‘The safest place’.

Theirs is the clear-cut sound and diction so typical of the 60s especially, none of the mumbled jumbo you all too often get these days and there is a definable melody in every single song. I can only think of one other band that manages that in all the almost 10 years I’ve been writing reviews…and they’re a metal band!

As for filler; that’s for fixing cracks in walls.

Their USPs could fill a resume on their own: smooth, simple and memorable tunes; short bridges that offer only a small variation from the main melodies; selective, expressive orchestration to the same standard as the Beatles; and meaningful lyrics that never cross the Rubicon into ‘pretentious’ territory.

To top it all there’s the distinctive vocal of Christian Stage, one that if it was played in a pub or BBC radio show quiz as a ‘voice of the 60s’ would bring forth a vast range of suggestions of big names it might belong to, and none of them from Denmark.

I could cruise all day between Manchester and Liverpool and back again on the M62 or the East Lancs Road listening to this album on repeat. It’s a living history book of UK pop-rock wrapped up in a Danish pastry all the way from Copenhagen.

I reckon there’s a potentially huge market for a revival of these eras, again. I saw that the American songstress Weyes Blood was majorly influenced by The Hollies, a band whose heyday was a couple of decades before she was born.

How many in the future will be influenced by Mansfield I wonder? Discuss.

8/10

Mansfield is:

Christian Stage: vocals, acoustic & electric guitars, mellotron, keyboards & percussion.

Mathias Havelund: guitars & percussion.

Mathias Wedeken: bass, orchestral strings & vibraphone.

Filip Gulløv: drums, piano on track 3, percussion & backing vocals.

Additional musicians:

Anders Holm Mortensen: brass section on track 4.

Jóhanna Hugadóttir, Elisabeth Bak Cedermann, Rose Gunilla Ekstrand & the band Caper Clowns: backing vocals on track 11.

Find them on:

Website: http://www.mansfield.dk/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Mansfieldband

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/mansfieldcph/

The post Mansfield (Denmark) – For all the right reasons (album) appeared first on Nordic Music Central.

I don’t know how long it will take Norway to recover from such public ignominy having performed well the previous year but there are always artists it can turn to for consolation and one of them is Maylen Rusti.

Maylen has appeared five times in NMC with songs, all of which appear on this, her second album, and most recently with ‘Si noe tilbake’ (‘Say something back’). I suppose in English we might say ‘give it back’, a euphemism for putting someone in their place when their comments get to be too much but in this instance it actually indicated sort of silent impasse between her and the significant other who might put in a further appearance or two on the album .

It prompted me to conclude, from the five tracks heard so far, that Maylen is “always bright and bubbly, irrespective of the subject matter”, that “you get the impression from her songs that whatever are the circumstances, all is for the best in the best of all possible worlds in her corner of Oslo” and that “she never fails to pick out a tune.”

And that’s a useful starting point for the album, ‘Drømmeland’ or ‘Dreamland’ in English, her second and 10 years after the first (‘Heartmachine’), due in part to a medical issue with her vocal cords.

Maylen introduces it by saying her creations are “energetic, dreamy and honest indie pop music…often about the love life in the big cities” (in Oslo, where she lives now, an émigré from Bergen, but also Copenhagen and New York which she has graced with her presence).

That love life in Oslo seems to be the centre of attention of quite a few artists and bands recently; I really must check it out more thoroughly.

She adds that some of the songs are more melancholic, describing people in some form of trouble, but for the most part they have “a lot of life and lust in them” with an added retro vibe, from her youth, in the 1990s and 2000s.

And that is certainly my experience from the five tracks we’ve experienced so far, going all the way back to ‘Romeo & Julie’, 18 months ago, a tuneful spin on the Shakespearean play with lust a-plenty and which hinted at her strong storytelling skills. Skills which aren’t limited by her writing mainly in Norwegian these days, a language that flows off the tongue in work such as this.

Because we have looked at those five tracks previously and you can find them easily via the search button (Maylen Rusti’ will do the trick) I’ll focus on the ‘new’ five here. All the tracks are from an album in which she relates to the fearlessness that dominated her thinking, a throwback to a youth not all that long ago but slowly fading on the horizon and yet which still inspires her to this day.

‘Drømmeland’ is, she says, “somewhere you can breathe”. It won’t be touring to Manchester then, I guess.

First up is the opening track, conveniently labeled ‘Første Gang’ (‘The First Time’) and nothing to do with Morrissey. In fact it couldn’t be more different, a hauntingly beautiful piano and extraterrestrial synthesiser ballad about a ‘first time’ that is left to your imagination but in which he is ‘sugar’ and she is ‘rhubarb’ and all the indications are that they are going to make a pie. That doesn’t leave much to the imagination does it? Beautiful.

The fourth track is ‘Når Eg Faller’ (‘When I Fall’), and is a more upbeat one, especially in the rhythm and in a convoluted electronic signature which successfully evokes the sensation of falling and spinning out of control. I’m not sure I’ve got the entire drift of it but it does seem to suggest that she can’t stop falling for him but the length of that fall is itself a catalyst for the need to find more time to make a decision. See what you think.

The fifth track, ‘Bak fasaden’, or ‘Behind the Façade’ is another one that’s difficult to call. It could concern a younger sibling, perhaps a brother, who has had to deal with a life-changing event but has risen to the challenge. They have only done so however by adopting a façade behind which they can hide the perennial hurt.

This one owes a lot to a tremendous Aurora-like vocal application to an extended ‘Aahh’ which might even be Ms Aksnes herself. It’s terrific.

The eighth track, ‘Plass Til Èn’ (A Place For One) is the only one that is co-written with her producer, Henrik Hilmersen, and it could be War & Peace compared to the others; a lyrically mammoth track by Maylen’s standards, but compacted into just three and a half minutes.

It’s nothing to do with dining alone from what I can see but a lot to do with a need to be alone, Greta Garbo-like, and in her ‘happy place’ even when the pair have been separated for some time and then suddenly find themselves under the same roof.

The ethos, together with the strident electronic backing, puts me in mind of the lonely, detached melancholia of Sol Heilo at least in the verses although the choruses spin off into an electro-pop banger, the frivolity of which suggest that the happy place provides all of her needs anyway and shouldn’t be seen as a sanctuary city.

Rounding the album off is the title track. ‘Drømmeland’ is the most powerful of all both musically where it reaches the levels of anthem, lyrically, and in the various examples of imagery, metaphor and allegory it employs, such as running through water and sand, the alignment of stars, night turning into day and vice versa and the employment of painting (“with several thousand colours”) as a cure-all for mental illnesses (someone has been watching Bob Ross).

But of course one of those colours is black, and many combinations end up black as aficionados of the dark 1990s television comedy ‘The Fast Show’ will recall.

It’s the sort of stuff that you might expect to find in a 19^th century romantic novel from Jane Austen or one of the Brontës, and Maylen clearly isn’t shy of experimenting where others might fear to tread.

With these five tracks on top of the five already released as singles, where there was perhaps a lack of clarity about her direction with the individual songs there is no such lack now within the framework of the album. There is form and purpose, intrigue and delight and with it Maylen Rusti has reestablished her marker as a leading light in the Norwegian intelligent indie-pop scene.

In her publicity she compares herself with artists such as Gabrielle, Aurora and Veronica Maggio. The comparisons henceforth should be with Maylen Rusti.

8/10.

Incidentally, she will be writing in English again but not just yet…be patient.

Find her on:

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/rusti.maylen

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/maylenrusti/

The post Maylen Rusti (Norway) – Drømmeland (Dreamland) (album) appeared first on Nordic Music Central.

drea, out of Bergen, aka Andrea Ådland,is a debutant into the business as a solo singer-songwriter although she has an impressive pantheon of work as a backing singer, and is hosted by the small Norwegian label Vift Records who have found themselves a little gem here with this EP.

It is painfully honest. She’s the musical equivalent of the old guy who sits pleadingly outside my supermarket every day asking for a ‘few bob’ to buy a sandwich. You just know he’s genuinely down on his luck, not an acid head on the make and the authenticity of drea’s singing is equally palpable.

You hear a lot about bedroom pop these days and the EP sounds as if it was made in an attic but that just adds even more to the legitimacy of the work.

I struggled to select a sample track here; all five of them have their individual attractions. I was drawn to ‘Loser’, first. Who can resist a song that starts off with “I’m a fucking loser, I don’t need to brag about it”, while ‘Lazy Critic’ tugs at the heartstrings, ‘Dear Emily’ soars with effortless vocalisation that will melt what’s left of your ticker and ‘Alright’ convinces you that for all her woes her spirit will ensure that she will be.

I opted in the end for the third track, ‘Let go’, also her first single,for a variety of reasons. Firstly, for the wonderful lyricism. You can’t help but fall for a song which begins with “Life is just a game collecting points/ and I don’t have the manual for all the do’s and don’ts.

That, and the manner in which she delivers it, and the time signature, is right out of the Fiona Apple song book, allied to the storytelling mastery of Steady Holiday (another Andrea – Dre Babinkski) with the added benefit that it could be right out of a 1930’s film starring Judy Garland.

Over the last few years I’ve heard most of the new kids on the block who have gone on to make it big in Norway – your Auroras, Sigrids, Dagnys, girl in reds and so on, and those that are on the fringe. I don’t think for a minute that drea will be on the fringe of anything for long.

Find her on:

Website (label): https://www.viftrecords.com/drea/ep

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/andrea.aadland

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/dreadreamusic

The post drea (Norway) – Let Go (sample track from debut EP Letters to my bitter self) appeared first on Nordic Music Central.

Now she returns with what is the first of three EPs in 2024, each representing a different genre and each of which has a specific theme of its own, namely ‘Mind’, ‘Body’ and ‘Spirit’, starting with ‘Mind’, which is a collaboration with Timo Kaukolampi, a Helsinki-based experimental music artist and self-taught composer, producer and meta- band leader.

And here’s me thinking he might be a rally driver.

(Meta is nothing to do with Mr Zuckerberg by the way; apparently ‘meta’ is the idea of music of a higher order which would contain any existing music of any tradition as a special case. But I stand to be corrected on that).

It’s certainly the case that his reputation precedes him and that must be the case if he is working with Stina, whom I rate as one of the leading singer-songwriters and composers in Finland, which has a few, having placed her at #1 in the NMC 2022 Singles of the Year list for the exhilarating pop banger ‘Pelasta Mut’

The album ‘Ghostina’ wasn’t half bad either but then she was quiet throughout 2023, no doubt working on this little delight.

I did a hatchet job on Finland’s ghastly Eurovision 2024 entry a couple of weeks ago. Why they didn’t just slot ‘Pelasta Mut’ into it defeats me; the winner’s trophy would be halfway from Malmö to Helsinki already.

But back to the present day. Each EP has, as its title suggests, a specific theme and through them she explores assorted genres while working with different producers.

She says the three EPs “celebrate my diversity as an artist reflecting a genuine commitment to authenticity and creative integrity.”

Regular readers will know my attitude to declarative statements like that; I never take them at face value and always seek confirmation.

She continues, “‘Mind’ delves into my thoughts and experiences regarding illness and mortality, exploring how these have shaped my perspective on life. The fear of death and uncertainty about the future are themes that resonate throughout this EP, influencing my music in profound ways.”

We’ve examined several pieces along similar lines recently and featured Norway’s own Queen of ‘Death Pop’, Tulle, a couple of days ago, although some of her work might be a little tongue in cheek and, as far as I know, not prompted by genuine morbidity.

That’s never going to be the case with Stina. She lives with the reality of illness every day.

Incidentally, this is, I think, her first work in English since the days of the duo Color Dolor.

The first track, ‘Biding my time’, starts with what turns out to be a persistent, growing, haunting invariable synthesiser chord which creates the impression of what some older folk refer to as ‘God’s waiting room.’

But this one is so sombre it might be the room where the past their sell-by date humans wait to be extinguished and turned into food in the movie ‘Soylent Green’. Or it could accompany the ending to ‘Cocoon’. It’s powerful.

The imagery of her running through 100 bridges and burning them all behind her is a delight. I’m assuming here that she is alluding to her own treatment, for which she did burn her own bridges (i.e. no turning back) to face down a major operation which could have had several outcomes, many of them bad and that this is about waiting for that crucial day to arrive.

“Will you still love me, even when I’m not the same?” she asks, “when I am changed…when I don’t love you?” (Hinting perhaps of irreparable damage to whatever enables us to love).

Complementing a touching song is the multiplication of her voice to that of a heavenly choir.

The tachycardic ‘Scatter’, which progresses at about 200 bpm throughout put me in mind initially of the urgency of an ‘against the clock’ surgical operation but on second examination is perhaps more representative of how living with chronic illness and its possible outcomes impacts on rational thinking, so that thoughts are random and misdirected, leading to spells of uncontrolled high anxiety which then collapse into a state of stupor just as a storm regresses into rainfall, the allegory she applies in the song.

It certainly paints that picture well while musically, if the first track had trip hop roots this one is Jean-Michel Jarre on Prozac.

‘Mess I’m In’ seems to me to represent the isolation of illness. How you become invisible (in Stina’s terminology a “Martian”) if you are only in evidence for short periods of time, to the point even that no-one knows anyone is living at that address, let alone that there is someone inside it who is falling apart.

I’m reminded, for the second time in a matter of days, of Alexei Sayle’s graphic portrayal of the old as invisible in his excellent book of short stories, ‘Barcelona Plates’. Of how they become nonexistent because no-one wants to fuck them any longer.

Substitute age for infirmity here.

And the loss of love is even more palpable:

“Is your heart broken too? /We could start a club for all the lonely hearts/Living in this city”.

Musically, ‘Mess I’m In’ is slower, considered, more stable, and balladic. Almost an acceptance of fate. It has a wonderful mix of mournful strings, vocal effects and a weird electronic rhythm which could be the heartbeat of an alien.

‘Oblivion’ is the most portentous track as its title suggests and it moves along rapidly like an out of control train. I was expecting a synthesised requiem but it turns out to be more of a lament and it reintroduces the second party to all this, the lost love.

Some songs immediately conjure up images in the mind and this one definitely does in the final segment (I won’t say ‘verse’ because there is no verse-chorus structure).

To a background of angelic effects it reminds me vividly of the final moments of Amber, attended by her partner Wilson in the fourth season finale of ‘House’ when Amber dies of an irreversibly lethal combination of otherwise harmless drugs and a road accident in one of the most riveting pieces of TV drama I’ve ever seen.

Watch it, then read these purposefully convoluted final lines to the song while playing this music to it and you’ll see what I mean.

“And you will never be enough

Oh for me and all my love, oh

And I will never have enough

For you I’ll have enough

Of you…I’ll never have enough

I’ll never have enough

I’ll never have enough”.

As always I’m guessing what these songs are about but what is more important is how it impacts on you as the listener. Stina Koistinen is a master of the art of imagination seeding and ‘Mind’ is at the zenith of her work to date in that respect.

Vocally, she is in fine fettle as always, employing tones and timbres in her voice that I haven’t heard before, and for the most part softer, with less of the gymnastics we have become used to.

So, does this EP constitute “a genuine commitment to authenticity and creative integrity?” Are you kidding me? Authenticity should be her middle name.

8/10

The next two EPs will be ‘Body’, which “celebrates the physicality of existence, emphasising the importance of embracing and enjoying your body despite societal pressures and personal struggles…a celebration of all bodily experiences from panic attacks to falling in love.” It was composed and produced with Tapio Viitasaari (who definitely isn’t a rally driver).

Finally, ‘Spirit’ examines her worldview and beliefs about the state of the world, containing both reflections on current events, such as political elections, as well as expressions of hope and values. It invokes “flower power, 70’s folk music and non religious gospel meeting to make a soulful entity.” It was recorded in Stockholm with a variety of musicians.

‘Mind’ cover art by Irja Nuru.

Find her on:

Website: https://www.stinakoistinen.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/stinakomusic

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/stinak0/

Timo Kaulokampi:

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/timokaukolampi

The post Stinako (Finland) – Mind (EP) appeared first on Nordic Music Central.