A Closer Listen
Hearing new music from Paavoharju comes as an unexpected treat. The Finnish collective made a big splash with Yhä hämärää (2005) and Laulu laakson kukista (2008), both on Fonal Records, and the ascetic Christian brothers and their friends seemed ready to cross over to a larger market. But it was not to be. A left turn into hip-hop and rap on 2013’s Joko sinä tulet tänne alas tai minä nousen sinne (Svart Records) broke the early enchantment, and was followed by nearly a decade of silence. In early 2022, the act resurfaced on Happiness, a collaboration with Joose Keskitalo ~ but even so, fans had despaired of the possibility of a new quality venture.
Time has a funny way of producing perspective, and when brother/original member Lauri Ainala found “a graveyard of glass negatives” beneath an abandoned building, many images eroded to the point of transparency, the possibility of Yön mustia kukkia (Black flowers of the night) began to grow like a seed in the mind. The fairy tale had begun two decades earlier, but lacked a happy ending. It was time to rewrite history. The new album, back on Fonal, is now called the completion of the trilogy. Many of the original players have returned, including Keskitalo, as well as Teemu Eerola on violin. Eerily, some of the sounds unfolding here are twenty years old, excavated for a new iteration. If the cover image seems ghostly, it’s because the slides, and even the sounds, exude a spectral aura.
The biggest change is that the album is less electronic than previous installments; but the biggest similarity is that the magic has returned. Once again, listeners may feel as if they are walking into a phantasmagoric forest, filled with fairies and sprites and talking trees. While others have trod these paths in recent years, none have done so as well. “Unohtaa” begins with birdsong, like the opening page of a children’s book. Angelic voices leave trails of piano and whisper. In “Haituu,” waves lap against a hull as the violin plays. We would follow Anniina Saksa into the woods any day; and if we would follow her into the woods, we would certainly follow her into the album.
Abraded folksong, perhaps part of the aural excavation, is surrounded by static, giving way to newer vocals, layers upon layers, like the sediment of time in which even Paarvoharju is now immersed. Choirs and organs become entangled in brambles. Ghosts emerge from slides and cassettes, from beneath branches and piles of leaves. The forest laughs, seemingly benevolent. “Yön mustia kukkia” is the sound of travelers diverging, one soaring toward the heavens while another remains grounded. There is much territory to cover, and the sun is beginning to set.
Crackle and crunch are offset by music boxes and chimes. Just as the road seems headed for darkness, strings of light illuminate the path. The drums of “Rasia” sound like the clumping of friendly horses’ hooves. Jenni Yaber recites poetry while Eerola continues to play, providing the impression of a traveling troupe. A dozen performers are present at different times, like twelve disciples in the presence of a muse. The 13th track, “13,” honors the spirit that births the music, invisible to some, inherent in every tuffet and tree, every stream and swan. (Richard Allen)
Sat Sep 02 00:01:14 GMT 2023