Review: Korpiklaani & Tyr, Fleece

You wouldn’t want to mention big fish and small ponds around Tyr lest they reach for their harpoons, given that the hairy Norsemen’s repertoire includes the occasional traditional folk song about the joys of whaling. “We are Tyr from the Faroe Islands and we play heavy metal!” announces Heri Joensen, a tad unnecessarily. Fist-punching opening anthems Blood of Heroes and Hold the Heathen Hammer High set out their stall effectively enough, with a nod in the direction of European power metal. But there’s a lot more to Tyr than the berserker onslaught. For a start, while most folk-metal bands incorporate traditional acoustic instrumentation, this lot play what are effectively folk songs in an unembellished metal style, including the heaviest version of The Wild Rover you’ll ever hear. Additionally, Joensen, bassist Gunnar Thomsen and guitarist Terji Skibenaes all sing together in a powerful choral style that frequently slips into Gregorian chant territory, notably during the extended a cappella intro to Sinklars Visa.

Much has changed in the Korpiklaani camp since the Finns last played Bristol. They’ve acquired excellent new violin and accordion players, and bassist Jarkko Aaltonen now looks even more hobbity than ever, having sprouted a full seasonal Santa beard. Their boisterous audience has also grown considerably and is in the mood to, well, if not exactly dance as such, at least jig about in an unco-ordinated fashion to the band’s infectiously entertaining brand of humppa metal. It’s clear from the outset, however, that dreadlocked frontman Jonne Jarvela has been availing himself of the local hospitality with more gusto than was perhaps wise. Not to put to fine a point on it, he goes arse over tit during the opening song and lies prostrate on the stage while punters snap him on their mobiles, later to disseminate his indignity via the magic of social media.

The recent Manala album dominates, and there’s something of a mid-tempo, mid-set lull before Korpiklaani break out a splendidly jaunty brand new song entitled Sahti that whips up a fair audience frenzy and not a little falling over. For a band who’ve written so many drinking songs, however, it was surprising to find them serving only Vodka tonight. But the rolling, hypnotic Rauta, whose Sami yoiking harks back to Jonne’s early purist folky days before he was corrupted by metal, gets a sprightly new arrangement with lashings of extra violin. So what will it be for the encore, then? Wooden Pints, perhaps, or that universal audience pleaser Beer Beer? Er, no. Jonne is nowhere to be seen, possibly feeling sorry for himself in a corner somewhere, so the other five shuffle back on to play an instrumental. Ah well, at least it’s the rather lovely Pellonpekko.