Ensiferum
Victory Songs

THE REVIEW

When one gets stuck on a single genre, they make a big mistake. Even the rocks know this. You can encounter two types of problems in this case: either you have no ears or eyes for anything that is not, as they say, "True," and as a result, you're inclined to judge all productions that do not meet certain instrumental and artistic standards as trash; or one fine morning, you might stumble upon an exceptional album, masterfully played and rich in content, that leaves you speechless and makes you feel like an idiot for not having had the necessary open-mindedness to welcome it sooner.

All this prologue served no purpose if now, speaking of Ensiferum and their latest album "Victory Songs," you start to rant. Too "Power" to be appreciated by those who are fixated on "Viking" and "Folk," too "Swedish" for those who love Power and the tight, epic rhythms. So what then? What are Ensiferum today? Or rather: what do Ensiferum represent today, the same band that previously released an explosive, powerful, hypnotic and epic album named after themselves? What are these five Finns who have built their fortune on battles, swords, axes, choral songs, and hymns to the Eternal Glory of the past?

It's hard to answer. Especially because the conditions are there for today's Ensiferum to be loved by a substantial portion of the audience, who never miss an opportunity to glorify the genre to which they belong (which, very heterogeneously, also includes Manegarm, Moonsorrow, Wintersun. Just to name a few). But likewise, there will be those (and unfortunately, I believe there will not be a few) who will scoff at them, judging them as charlatans. Nothing more than a sideshow attraction.
Come on, we're all getting fed up with people like Amon Amarth and the like, given the times. Ugly, dirty, bad people, who do nothing but deify Viking battles, talk only about the Scandinavian mythological pantheon, and produce extremely original and powerful things that no one across the ocean can match.

If that's what being fed up means, then I'll line up to have mine pierced. And for Ensiferum before anything else. At least for the old ones, that is. For these, orphans of their Deus Ex Machina Jari, perhaps I might think more than once, but I assure you that no matter how things go, whatever Ensiferum are or have been, listening to their latest effort (the third in ten years, excluding the useless "Dragonheads") is always an exquisite pleasure that would be inhumane to deny to those who shudder at these things.

The ingredients are all there and are always in the tried-and-true formula of the house: fast guitars which, in their respective sections, remain highly distinguishable and sharp as razors, drums always ready to burst into frenzied tempos, the new singer's "Harsh" vocals powerful and well-calibrated, with diverse nuances, capable of moving from a clean, sad "clear" to raw and naked sonic aggression, always maintaining within the standards and style of a certain Swedish-stamped Melodic Death.
Perhaps Ensiferum has decided today to rely on a different appeal, seeking to derive atmospheres of places and things in a different manner than in the past. Here, the focus is on greater melodic thrust, revolving around epic and colossal concepts that, with their magic, can make the listener feel, if only they would kindly close their eyes, as if they were on the eve of a decisive and bloody battle. This is the purpose of the choirs, the traditional instruments used (even a lonely and distant bagpipe appears in the title track "Victory Songs"), and all the bric-a-brac that is part of the band's corollary.
Think, for example, of the intro "Ad Victoriam," and tell me if what I wrote earlier doesn't hold true. Logical, provided you have the sensitivity and necessary imagination to realize its content. And then, without skipping anything, isn't that "Blood Is The Price Of Glory" in second place a real blow? Isn't it perhaps a pleasure for the ears?

It's pointless for me to get lost in chatter, explaining song by song what Ensiferum manage to communicate. It's a superfluous effort. To appreciate them, you will have to listen to them, enjoy them, make them your own, and perhaps, if you know how to be constant in your passion, by the sky, you will see Thor on his goat-drawn chariot streaking across the sky with his hammer.