by Octopi Mills

Here we have something interesting in the form of a Finnish primitive project, with hand and self made instruments. The first song sounds like a shamanistic ritual and has some trance inducing qualities as well as some drums. Vocals sound like they are made by way of a bearded man, and I hasten to say caveman just yet. By the second piece some guitar emerges into the camp, as well as some melody and strange strings. The percussive elements are worth noting, the difference is unusual from the usual industry standard and gives the drumming a unique feel.

One can hear fowl in the ambiance; birds, and I feel for a second that I am on the mushroom dotted plains of Africa, for some idiotic reason or such- that I am part ape man in skins and with red brown hair and wooden spear, and by 9:13 I am beside some sandy cape, watching the golden sun on the ocean, as a passage is wrought for voyage, somehow to faraway Finland. The golden rays of the sun seem to be coming from somewhere inside the synthesiser(?)- like wash, and in the chanting young apes run along the seaside. For some reason I am not yet in Finalnd at all, but one can only feel as he feels, and to be true to the word of such....the crashing effect of the second song's near end is  worthy of mention as well. I can only wonder what the words really translate to, and I would wager the farm it is nothing like what I just mentioned..

The next song feels like a primitive lullabye at first and opens up like a water-fowl's egg, exploding softly to create the universe....the music crawls, and sprawls slowly out like a great hunt, and the sacred bear is bounding and not far, as the drumming evokes the trance and port of the mind by which we may enter into the sea, and trick the gods into believing we are dead. This music evokes a sea voyage at times to me, and the strings are like winds and ice on the psychic sails of the wild, ungoverned mind...

My good men, there is a rite going on here, a voyage; a passage or trip....thus this makes good camping music over a fire and served with some good aerial tops or herbal remedies...One could put it on a headset and walk off into the edge of the world; on parkland and into vast woods, with a wooden spear in hand and a head full of dreams. One could return to the land; to eating it and living it, and renounce the murder of our lady by throwing down his suit and crafting instead a suit of downfall, cataclsym, restore to factory defaults! By the end of the album the songs have melted together like snow and water and run back to ground level and reason, and a soft lullabye is sung for a moment, though actually longer as all things of trance, and it is one that warms the animal infancy of the mind...The last song's ripples and reflections reveal the ignorance of the modern man, and a dark call of return beckons us to the veldt, the desert, the woods, or the wild outback to which we have been robbed by our landlords. Perhaps the time has come to return....