Now here’s a desert island pick if there ever was one… Back in 1994, I discovered The Karelian Isthmus, the 1992 debut album by Finnish death metal upstarts Amorphis, at my local Newbury Comics. Upon hearing that its follow-up was due to drop soon, I played that album front-to-back on numerous occasions in preparation of its arrival, fully expecting a continuation of the debut’s doom/death musical motifs. Instead, the then-quartet added a keyboardist, discovered progressive rock, and took such a musical and lyrical left turn that not only turned heads, but also charted a path that would eventually lead Amorphis to a level of stardom not only in their homeland, but also well beyond that that would leave many other bands envious of their ascent and continued influence. This was no “second album slump.” This is Tales From the Thousand Lakes, highly influential, undoubtedly original, and today’s Halls of the Olde inductee.
Lyrically, as an impressionable teenager, I had questions. What happened to the Celtic and occult themes? Who was Sara, and why do I have to become a bird to enter, and escape, her murky house? What makes it so murky? Why am I forbidden to ever, in this world, allow my brother to water his warhorse upon the seashore?1 Why does my brother even need a fucking warhorse to begin with? Well, Amorphis veered away from the occult and Celtic-inspired war stories to focus on the Kalevala, Finland’s prized literary masterpiece collection of poems compiled by Elias Lönnrot, who would also inspire the likes of one J. R. R. Tolkien. Packed with stories full of mysticism, romance, and battles, the Kalevala made an incredible lyrical backdrop to the sudden about-face that Amorphis took on Tales.
How much of an about-face are we talking about here? Gone are the blast beats, the tremolo melodies, and Swedish-inspired death/doom of The Karelian Isthmus, and in their place were beautiful keyboard melodies, prog-like jams, and a pneumatically catapulted leap in terms of musicianship and songwriting… which is all the more amazing when you factor in the average age of the group at the time was somewhere around 20 years old. From the moment “Thousand Lakes” takes hold, the next 40 minutes fly by like the eagle in the album’s liner-note artwork. “Into Hiding” and album single “Black Winter Day” showcased clean singing by Kyyria frontman Ville Tuomi, a key element that would go on to become one of Amorphis’ trademarks for albums to come, and would also set a nice counterpoint to rhythm guitarist Tomi Koivusaari’s growls.
But what made the album such a tremendous standout in 1994 were the copious amounts of swirling, circular melodies dotted throughout. Whether they’re from keyboardist Kasper Mårtenson (“Thousand Lakes,” “Black Winter Day”) or lead guitarist Esa Holopainen (literally every song on here except for “Thousand Lakes”), those melodies oftentimes drift throughout the entire song, but not once do they feel like they outstay their welcome. In fact, they make each and every song soar through the clouds, helping to paint the fantastical words that both Lönnrot and Amorphis would sketch with their respective stories and music.
Tales From the Thousand Lakes would remain a one-of-a-kind album, not only for the listeners, but for the band as well. Half of the key players (Mårtenson, Tuomi, and drummer Jan Rechberger) would depart not long after, though Rechberger would return for 2003’s tepid Far From the Sun. With the exception of the immediate follow-up Elegy, Amorphis would step away from the works of Lönnrot until 2006’s Eclipse. Still, Tales From the Thousand Lakes is an impressive snapshot of a band stepping outside their comfort zone, and not only finding an enchanting world but also asking the listener to come along for the journey.
Steel Druhm
There are a few truly special metal albums that live close to rusty heart of Steel. One of the closest is Tales from the Thousand Lakes by Finnish titans Amorphis. Back in 1994, I hadn’t yet heard their The Karelian Isthmus debut when I stumbled upon a review of their follow-up via Metal Maniacs. The brief but positive description got me fired up to hear it and I set out to track it down. Whatever positive spin the review gave Tales in no way prepared me for the might and majesty of this sweeping piece of music. I still vividly remember the moment I first put the album on in my grad school apartment after it arrived from a metal import company and how that beautifully somber opening piano piece reverberated off the high ceilings of the old building I inhabited. It felt massive and timeless and it instantly drew me in. By the time the intro faded and “Into Hiding” finally hit, there would be no stopping the journey until the very last notes faded away.
That’s the real power of Tales. It’s one of those rare albums you want to spin from nuts to butt and appreciate the full journey and all its varied textures and moods. It’s as far from a singles album as it gets, and though the songs are universally stellar, they lose much of their power and mystique when listened to in isolation from the whole. The album has a magical ebb and flow, with the doom and death elements pulling against one another but finding true harmony in the conflict. The endlessly rolling, trilling guitar lines from Tomi Koivusaari and Esa Holopainen weave transcendent, ethereal spells that envelope the other instruments and flow directly into your heart and soul. The heavy moments feel all the more weighty because of how melodic much of the material is, and those death roars by Tomi bring the thunder from the Arctic tundras.
While the wonderful “Black Winter Day” has ever been the album’s “single” and a great way to draw listeners in, it’s not even one of the standout tracks here, which speaks highly of just how massive Tales really is. To me, the album’s crowning moments arrive with closer “Magic and Mayhem” with its mournful yet martial marching stanza that conjures images of warriors slogging through heavy snow and ice, to its artful blend of death metal and what could have been very cheesy 70s synth effects. It’s a juggernaut of a song and the perfect ending for the odyssey the album drags the listener through.
I’ve spun Tales countless times since that very first listen back in the winter of 94, and though I don’t break it out as often as I did 15-20 years ago, when I do it’s always like visiting a familiar and comforting world where everything exists in perfect synchronicity. That original aura and mystery still pulsate from the music and draw me in. Every single time. That makes for a truly special piece of metal art. If you haven’t heard Tales from the Thousand Lakes, may Wotan have mercy on your miserable poser soul, for I shall have none.
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