FIRE FORTELLINGER

We all know by now that Norway is a progressive rock powerhouse, becoming a major player only after the golden period of the 70s, starting off with pioneering bands like Kerrs Pink, Fruitcake, Kvazar, Gazpacho and Shine Dion, then further emboldened by Airbag, Motorpsycho, Oak, Soup, Pymlico and the Windmill, finally killing it with two huge bands in White Willow and Wobbler. The last two featured a remarkable keyboardist in Lars Fredrik Froislie, an instrumentalist never that flashy in terms of showing off dazzling skills but an absolute master of understated tone and technique, very much at the beck and call of the arrangement in question. He even participated in genre bending as he fronted the Norwegian progressive black metal band In Lingua Morta (a style that the icy cool Norsemen really nail down shut). Lars is quite the sonic adventurer, steering his arsenal of keyboards on a 'drakkar' of endless voyage and innovation but who has now finally decided to do his own thing via a solo album. I have been lamenting since my early prog days in 1969, the lack of usage of my favourite instrument, sadly disregarded by way too many artists, the harpsichord. Attending a classical concert at 13 years of age, I got introduced to this beautiful Baroque/Renaissance instrument, with works by Bach, Couperin and Haendel, played by a young maestro who added some dramatic flair to his technique. It has haunted me ever since. But not anymore, as "Fire Fortellinger" has cascades of this plucky (pardon the pun) keyboard all over the 4 extended tracks that make up this 46-minute masterpiece. Froislie also handles all the drums and vocals, with equal dexterity.

Another typical 2023 prog sandwich, two 16-minute epics to start and finish, stuffed with two 6-minute delights, wondering if this is a secret trend that is becoming pervasive. Or just good old-fashioned coincidence. Well, "Rytter av Demmedag" explodes out of the gate with a thunderous torrent of swirl and a mellotron gale that blows a rousing organ pattern straight into Oz! Bombastic, bold, and utterly alluring, the main theme features a voice that is surprisingly attractive, sung in Norwegian before the synths suddenly weave amid the Gothic organ swells, solidly supported by an athletic bass, courtesy of Nikolai Haengsle and impressive drum gymnastics from Lars himself. The pastoral serenity towards the end harkens back to a sound closer to Genesis' Trespass, with a raw organ, a clever flute synth and some mellotron strings elevating deliberately to a glorious hymn of whopping majesty that invites a colossal choir into the melee, an absolute killer finale.

Speaking of beauty, a delightfully elegant harpsichord arrives in company of a gentle synth flute, as well as Lars' Norse voice introducing a gargantuan crest on "Et Sted Under Himmelhvelet", sounding in fact closer musically to classic PFM. The bass ravages convincingly, a bustling stroll of trebling rasps that really catches the ear, ebbing for just an instant, before re-igniting once again that magnificent mellotron-drenched melody and diving deep into the dense fjords of sonic bliss.

The vintage Hammond organ gets the spotlight on the charging "Jaertgen", a bruising and chaotic slice of wilderness that offers no mercy, until a sudden halt provides an excuse for the harpsichord to charm the listener with that distinguished baroque feel, pleading grey promenade voice in tow, overwhelmingly melancholic and sorrowful.

Sounding at first like a tribute to Brain Salad Surgery, "Naturens Katedral" offers superlative drumming skills, riffling contrasts on the various keyboards (though the organ really is the star) and a vocal style closer to Lake's swooning voice. The arrangement veers into gentler pastures where the piano rules, tingling sparkles of faithful observance when ushering in the choir, greeted by a tortuous synth flourish shoving this epic into another field of play altogether, where the raucous, rabid, and muscular coalesce with the soft elegance of simplicity. It does not take long for the sombre theatrics to kick in anew (think classic Goblin), echoing suspense on a visceral scale, a return to the precious harpsichord to calm the waters, though only for a second. The arrangement is flung into hyper speed, as if to finish in a dizzying display of fury, I can imagine Lars bobbing his head like a 1973 This van Leer on his organ, perhaps even making an odd grimace of contorted euphoria (Focus' La Cathedrale de Strasbourg did come into my mind, albeit only as a wink). Then comes a jazzy bit sounding like an evening tango with Brian Auger, shuffling drum beats straight out of John Marshall's soft spot. Clever and grandiose.

Thoroughly enjoyable, this is a romping adventure that exudes playfulness, honesty, fun and glittering instrumental dexterity without being overtly show-off.

4.5 quivering snowy trees