The Karelian Isthmus is a straight up and righteous early death metal in the Scandinavian vein circa 1992. The tempo is slow to mid-paced; the guitar sound buzzsaw-like and mid-rangy. The riffs and guitar melodies are top notch, taking on a bit of a Middle Eastern flair. The songwriting and approach may seem somewhat primitive. But, with some keyboards here; some acoustic bits there; much of the epic structure and atmosphere that marks later Amorphis opuses are here. Had they stayed with the basic death metal sound, they may have burned out after an album or two, but the next two releases are astonishing for the level of experimentation shown in a rather conservative context.
Adventure in Samur Part 4.1 - We Got the Right
On the other side of the northern gate,
the snow stretches out as far as the eye can see. In the hazy
distance, the dark form of a mountain rises up. There is no sign of
the gate we left behind in Samur. We have come to the land of narn to
seek out Lars the Berserker and gain knowledge of the magic armor
given to us by our father. Mistress Crowbastard, a shock of flowing
black robes against the gleaming white of our surroundings, calls to
us from nearby, "Hurry now, we must locate the spirit
lake.
Bloodmace, use the Kataklysym patch." The thoughtful barbarian
places his hand on his lower back and touches the embroidery of the
magical patch. Mistress Crowbastard points to the horizon, where a
bright light has appeared, and calls out, "There! See it? The
spirit lake lies ahead! Demon Scourge, stand with your back to
Bloodmace and join hands." We stand together as she suggests and
we hear her begin to sing the eldritch hymn of the Gatemaster,
"Silver horses brought us here, to the edge of the universe!"
I feel a warmth and a warm glow engulfs the three of us. The mystic
continues her song in a deep guttural roar "Empty eyes are
staring now, to my feet a land of sorrow." Again I feel the rush
of travel, but the direction I cannot guess. Outside the glowing
perimeter of our surroundings I catch glimpses of titanic shadows
moving slowly across the horizon. Now with a final deathgrunt, the
Baroness of Samur pronounces the last words of the spell, "Wafts
of might, wine of fire! I was called to taste!" Suddenly, I fall
to the ground that I thought was under me. We had arrived in Narn.
Tales of a 1000 Lakes is one of my favorite death metal albums.This album blew my mind back in the day. It's mixture of crushing heaviness, Finnish folk melodies, prog elements, tasteful synths, and occasional clean vocal attack is like candy with heroin at the center. There is lush epicness. There is ancient Finnish poetry. There is a spear that goes directly into the middle of your brain as you spasm on the ground in ecstasy. This could rightfully be called the first Finnish folk metal album, an ancestor of Korpiklaani and Fintroll, though with worse intentions. This is music to raise the Lake Troll to. Winner of the muthafuckin' night.
Adventure in Samur Part 4.2 - Heavy Metal (is the Law)
Bloodmace and I fall to the ground like
a pile of rags. When my head bounces against the frozen ground, I
notice that it is snowing. Picking ourselves up, we gaze upon the
vast lake called Narn. A blizzard whirls around us and the icy wind
bites through our coats. To our right, left and behind us there is
nothing but horizon, but in front of us we can barely make out
several low buildings. Mistress Crowbastard is nowhere to be seen, so
we make for the shelter of one of the ice hovels ahead. Just as
we
get close enough to inspect the strange dwellings, Bloodmace stops me
with an outstretched arm, and speaks in a low voice, "look at
the door" I squint my eyes and can just make out a series of
carvings upon the door of the square edifice, runes of earthen
design, "We may be at our destination already, walk carefully."
We walk several steps toward the weird outpost when I feel a tap on
my shoulder. I whirl around, along with Bloodmace to behold a cloaked
figure, eyes shining beneath a heavy cowl. With a deep voice he
beckons us to his lair, "Come out of the storm brothers, we have
much to speak about." With a wave of his hand, the door swings
open to reveal a stairway leading down into a dimly lit room. In
typical Samurian fashion, the circular room is decorated with bones
of many creatures, laid out in a kind of parquet upon the floor. The
stranger walks past us into the darkened quarters. Throwing his cloak
to the side, he reveals a denim vestment, covered with patches and
trimmed with thick fur. He touches the Dio patch and and the room
reveals its strange luminosity. "I am Lars the Berserker."
His great beard bristled and he furrowed his brow. He was a much
younger man than we expected and had shaved his head lika northern
mystic. Runic tattoos covered his arms, indicating his connection
with the place they call Earth. "Hail to you for your deeds in
Samur o hammers of the Wyvern! You actions were brave but also hasty,
and now we must storm the outer dimensions that we might prevent the
bloodrulers of Jenkabala and Waylor from asserting their dominance
over the temporal world.
The third album, Elegy, is further departure from the death metal formula, straying into more traditional metal territory, while expanding their sound. The vocals are mostly clean, and the song structure somewhere in the realm of prog and trad metal, with Deep Purple overtones everywhere. A few death growls remain, but they have pretty much left the extreme metal genre at this point. Acoustic instruments feature more prominently. And so they have forged the basic sound and formula that they would cling to for the rest of their career; ad nasueum, straying into great realms of boredom and stodginess. But this is the best example of that style, is a great album, and doesn't suck too many dicks.
So Demon Scourge and Bloodmace have lft
their bodies behind and gone to the world of Narn where Lars the
Berserker waits by the spirit lake, but where is Mistress Crowbastard
who led them here? What terrible rites will they have to endure in
this grim and frostbitten kingdom where dimensional winds torment the
souls of those foolish enough to wander there? Elder gods of chaos
arise! Let the sleeper awaken!
Until next week, merciless marauders,
horns
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