Gjallarhorn

You can find plenty of variety in Finnish music, as anyone who's listened to both Wimme and Värttinä can testify. But Gjallarhorn fall outside even Finland's curious standards. In addition to the folk element of fiddles, they employ that traditional Nordic instrument, the didgeridoo to provide the bass drone under their sound.

In their seven years together, they've released two albums, 1997's Ranarop - Call of the Sea Witch, and the recenty issued Sjofn, much more sophisticated, both in production and performance. That's not too surprising, according to singer and fiddle player Jenny Wilhelms, because the first disc "was recorded in ‘96, and at that point we'd hardly started our folk music studies, so since then we've developed on our instruments, too."

In many ways, she explained, "we feel as if we've found our voice. We had a studio session attitude this time, to experiment and have fun. We weren't trying to make a CD that sounded live. Instead we want the shows to sound more like the CD. I feel that we can have the minimalism and the more rock stuff; it's important to point out that we care about both."

"I feel that we can have the minimalism and the more rock stuff; it's important to point out that we care about both."

Wilhelms's voice, too, is fuller this time around, as on "Suvetar" ("Goddess of Spring") a Karelian runo song with plenty of dreamy, lusty sensuality.

"I have more second harmonies on this record, overdubs.. I got the inspiration from a commission I had for a piece for a female choir." She's also adopted a vocal style that's anything but plain, which comes from "Indian music. I like to do ornamentation and improvisation with my voice. Norwegian music has similar ornaments and microtones, and that's how I work with the music."

While the didgeridoo is more usually associated with Australian Aboriginals, it's been the base of the band from, quite literally, the very beginning.

"The first night [violist] Christopher Öhman and I got together for a jam session, we found out we had about 20 tunes in common," Wilhelms recalled. "[Original didg player] Jakob [Frankenhaeuser, since replaced by Tommi Mansikka-aho] was there, and he was playing the drone constantly to our fiddles. The didg was in D, so it was made for the fiddle. It was like a mega jew's harp, and we thought it was made for Scandinavian music. Not just because of the drone, but the rhythmic drone. That was very important - he kept doing the polska beat all night."

Not only does it provide the drone that's a part of Nordic music, it provides a very organic, natural ground for Gjallarhorn, which fits into their ethic, since so many of their songs, many drawn from the tradition, deal with nature in some form or other.

"I need to have lyrics I can relate to, and I think the boys have learned I won't just sing any tune. So usually I do the archive digging, and pick the lyrics. I want to have some global values to give to the world. It's not a moral lesson, but I like the global thinking of nature and the environment, which is why I picked the natural mythical ballads, relating to people meeting beings from nature and the spirit world, because people thought that way not long ago. They had names for all living things, and respected it, and respected all of nature."

That perhaps reaches its extreme on Sjofn's closing track, "Sinivatsa" ("Dolphin Calling") which is, quite literally, a dialogue with dolphins in Australia.

"That is really personal," observed Wilhelms. "I'd been swimming with them for several weeks. I thought I was going to be the one looking at them, but they were checking me out - I was definitely the monkey! But it was an amazing experience to see someone is more intelligent than the humans - this eye to eye contact."

Gjallarhorn

"I feel that we can have the minimalism and the more rock stuff; it's important to point out that we care about both."

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