Back in the mists of time, in March 2008, I got sent an album to review, from a band I knew of, but didn’t know very much about at the time. I’m not even sure exactly where I was writing for at the time, but I do remember this album. Fast-forward almost exactly sixteen years, and according to the oracle that is Last.fm, not only is that album one of my most listened to of all time, one of its tracks is my most listened to by a significant margin. In addition to that, I’ve since seen them live more times than I can remember, interviewed their bassist (the lovely Jarkko Aaltonen – genuinely one of the best people I’ve ever met doing press), and got drunk with half of them at Bloodstock. The band were/are Korpiklaani, the album was Korven Kuningas, that track was Shall We Take A Turn?, and the rest is history. They’re now solidly one of my favourite bands of all time, and honestly, I still dig out Korven Kuningas when the world seems a bit bleak.
Incidentally, as much as I love it, Korven Kuningas is also part of an ongoing issue I have with everyone’s favourite drunken Finns, and it’s one I have with multiple bands. As I suspect is the case with a lot of people, I tend to get attached to the album I discovered a band through, which is fine apart from then nothing else quite measures up, because realistically it can’t. I love Korven Kuningas as an album, but there’s also the memories of falling in love with Korpiklaani inextricably woven throughout it. Like the exact moment I realised I was dabbling in weapons-grade earworms (about 10 seconds into Keep on Galloping, for the record), and the first of many impulses I had to try and learn Finnish (the whole of Metsämies). Not to mention the memories of seeing quite a bit of it live on the accompanying tour. In short, I love them dearly, but also haven’t quite moved on from an album that’s nearly old enough to drink?
One thing I will say about Korpiklaani though: in a world that is ever increasingly going to shit on an ever-increasing number of levels, there is something ridiculously comforting and cozy about that the fact that Korpiklaani are still – after over twenty years – releasing Korpiklaani albums. To say a band has found a formula and stuck to it is one of those things that can be anything from a compliment to a damning indictment, but for Korpiklaani it’s somehow neither: the formula is Korpiklaani, and Korpiklaani are the formula, made rowdy, ever-cheerful, heavy drinking flesh. And the formula here isn’t complicated: to quote Jonne Järvelä himself, Korpiklaani is “old people music with heavy metal guitars”, which is as good a summary of the Korpiklaani phenomenon as I’ve ever seen. It’s certainly a combination with fairly wide appeal, based on the sheer number of metalheads I’ve met over the years who’ve made statements along the lines of “I mean, I’m not a big folk metal fan – apart from like Korpiklaani, obviously”, of which the “obviously” is far and away the funniest part. Obviously.
Talking of folk metal in general, one very particular joy of listening to Korpiklaani these days is their “borrowing” of Turisas’ very own violin troll, Olli Vänskä, who is now a fully paid-up member of the line-up. Turisas may be sorely missed in the genre, but at least everyone’s favourite stunt violinist still has a band to cause mayhem with – and continue fucking those pesky guitar solos. Funnily enough, I could swear I hear some early Turisas influences in parts of this album, but only one of the tracks in question are among those that have Olli listed as joint composer, so who knows?
I mean, I probably should, it being my job and all that, but we don’t need to dwell on that. Korpiklaani are far too much fun to listen to and write about to be overly technical about it all. That said, this is roughly the point where I should probably get cracking on the album itself, so here goes.
Kotomaa arrives with a bang, some lovely harmonies, and Jonne in fine voice, with his usual hint of yoiking. Korpiklaani have never – as far as I know – met a hook they didn’t like, and this is every bit as catchy as you could hope for. It’s also very Korpiklaani, but specifically of the very early variety; you could probably slot this into any one of their first few albums, and it wouldn’t be even slightly out of place. Tapa sen kun kerkeet starts out sounding more than a little bit Sabbathy, then takes a weighed down, melancholic turn, combining it with fast and heavy elements to make a whole that shouldn’t fully make sense, yet it somehow does. It’s sort of elegant misery in a Parisian café meets a bunch of lairy woodsmen who are inexplicably in a folk metal band, and while that’s not a sentence I expected to type at any point in my press career, I can’t say I don’t like it. Aita is one for those of us who still miss Olli’s past life, as it’s essentially the track that most Turisas albums had, where Olli gets to show off on the violin, such as Sahti Waari. There is more to it than that, and the rest of it calls back to early Korpiklaani in much the same way that Kotomaa did, but it’s also very much a violin showcase, which is always nice. After all, there’s no point having stupidly talented musicians around if you don’t let them show off every now and again, is there?
From there we come, by way of a big drum lick, to Saunaan, which I can only describe as classic Korpiklaani meets Pirates of the Caribbean – there’s no clear drinking song on this album, but this definitely has the vibes of a classic Korpiklaani beer song, which I suppose tells you everything you need to know about the relationship between Finns and their saunas. Once safely out of the sauna, Mettään has some interesting classic rock influences wrapped up in the Finnish folk, especially in the opening, and sounds like it’s made to be belted out by a drunk and happy crowd. Kalmisto continues in a similar, but darker and moodier vein, that settles into a pounding, raucous, slightly psychedelic carnival-type groove, with a bite and cranky edge to it that’s rare in their back-catalogue.
Rankarumpu combines a lot of what has gone before it at this point, and is clearly recognisable as part of the same writing process, but ironically for the title track, is probably the least distinct track so far. This is especially stark when it’s followed by the glorious melee that is No Perkele, which I can already tell you will be a highlight of their Bloodstock 2024 set. The slightly off-kilter sound continues from Kalmisto – this is fun drinking and dancing music, sure, but there’s a slightly mad, sinister thread snaking through it. Then, as Korpiklaani have long been wont to do, the frenzy drops away abruptly into a delicate melody and one of the slower, softer tracks (Viikatelintu) that the album’s been a little short on so far. Here they show that they can, in fact, do musical restraint when they want to, and it makes a nice change of pace.
Fittingly, the next track’s title translates as “get up” (Nouse), which is exactly what they then proceed to do, as they gear up to the end of the ride that has been Rankarumpu. It’s a perfectly fine Korpiklaani track, but doesn’t stand out in quite the same way as some of its predecessors.
Then, we get to Oraakkelit. Which is – for me – one of the best things on this album, and already my most listened to track on it. Hypnotic, rolling beats and riffs overlaid with soft, slightly fuzzy vocals from Jonne, pierced by violin and accordion that while superb, doesn’t sound entirely wholesome, in the best possible way. There are more hooks in here than you can shake a stick at, and while it’s not a typical Korpiklaani track, it’s no less addictive for that. If you’re familiar with the unsettling end of English folk/folk rock, such as Steeleye Span’s Alison Gross or Marrowbones, that’s the vibe underpinning this song and a fair bit of Rankarumpu. To round it all off, we have Harhainen höyhen, a soaring, balled-ish affair, where Jonne’s famous yoiking finally (kind of) makes an appearance, and everything sort of drifts along in a very pretty straight folky sort of way, as the anarchic carnival disappears into the night. Probably to find the nearest bar, let’s be honest.
So, there we have it. It’s a classic earlyish Korpiklaani album, while also bringing something new to the table, and reminding me (forcefully) of exactly why I fell in love with this band all those years ago. Which I suspect might be its real appeal and strength – the diehards were always going to love this album, but those of us that loved an album back in the day and had kind of drifted away from them a bit? This is the album to revisit them on. The basics that made them successful in the first place are present in spades, but there are new influences and vibes in play that combine the old elements in new, and somewhat unexpected ways. They’ve gone back to basics by way of the psychedelic end of classic rock, the weird end of folk rock, and thrown it all together in a mad swirl that, whatever else it gets up to, keeps charging forward.
In terms of personnel, the obvious standouts here are Jonne (vocals, acoustic guitar), Olli (violin) and Sami (accordion), but honestly every moving part of this album is done superbly, to the point where you almost don’t notice the skill involved, because they’ve been doing this long enough to make it look easy. In a similar vein, credit is also due to Janne Saksa – after multiple run-throughs, I actually haven’t made a single note about the production on this album, which is generally the hallmark of a job very well done.
All of which is a lot of words to say: it’s a Korpiklaani album. There’s old bits, there’s new bits, there’s at least three immensely singable crowd-pleasers that they’d be foolish to leave out of live sets going forward, and like pretty much everything they’ve ever done, it’s ridiculously fun. If you love – or have ever loved – Korpiklaani, just listen to it: you’ll be fine.
(10/10 Ellie)
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