|
|
|
Hoven Droven
Triakel Hoven Droven blindsided Swedish folk music with their first record, Hia Hia about eighteen years ago. Since then, there have been innumerable highlights on Hoven Droven’s frantic, groove-filled, metal-swing take on compositions both traditional and contemporary. (And let’s not forget 2001’s lovely, unplugged Hippa.) Five years on from their last double-live CD Jumping at the Cedar (2006), fans of the boys from Östersund, Sweden now can meditate/dance to leaking hull of Rost. Rost is like opening up your closet, picking out a pair of jeans that fell to the floor years ago, and having the triumph of getting that button-fly to close. Seriously: this is comfortable, familiar, and fits and looks better on you than you remember. And you can make it dressy, with a decent shirt. This is because the core of Hoven Droven is all here – Kjell-Erik Eriksson on fiddle; Bo Lindberg, guitar; Jens Comén, saxophone; Pedro Blom, bass; and Björn Höglund, drums. The group kicks off with "Slyng," bouncing along on top of the rhythm section on a wild sleigh ride. Hoven Droven’s knack for melody is intact, and they are so tight that when the song explodes, it re-shapes like a shifting ice floe. When the drums of ‘Gubbarnas Schottis’ start off, you have that trademark Hoven Droven groove taking shape, pierced through by Eriksson’s fiddle, and a communal swing that is irresistible. "Mörsil" is one of the quieter jams, Comén’s saxophone lilting through a lovely traditional tune. There’s lots of little sly winks and nods, with enthusiastic studio chatter filtering through the entire set. I’m very fond of "Fridas," a tune written by Eriksson for his niece’s christening, a celebratory, somewhat quiet piece that slowly crystallizes into swirls of fiddle and a soaring guitar break by Lindberg. "Humbugg" all chopping guitar and drums stomping the floorboards. Rost is wonderful, right through to the concluding "Sista Valsen," a creeping and melancholic waltz (that sounds as if it were sinking under the sea), written in commemoration of the Nordic Roots Festival in Minneapolis. Eriksson’s turn in Triakel finds his fiddle as foil to the singer/fiddle player Emma Härdelin (of the long-missed band Garmarna), and Janne Strömstedt on harmonium. Triakel has been a more reverent, traditionally minded affair, one that seems rooted in the Swedish countryside. Ulrikes minne is the group’s tribute to Ulrika Lindholm (1886-1977), one of the great Swedish traditional singers. Lindholm hailed from a small farm between Norway and Sweden, and consequently she learned a great many songs from travelers passing along the roads – traditional, religious, children’s, drinking, and popular songs made up her repertoire. Lindholm was based in Jämtland, the same area that Triakel call home, and so there is a real rootedness of place on Ulrikes mine. It’s fabulous to hear Härdelin in full flight on this CD, which owes an enormous debt to the sessions Lindholm had recorded for Swedish radio. Listeners are also treated to Lindholm herself on the last track "Just på timman," from 1960, which allows comparison with the same song as performed by Triakel. Both versions have a swaying quality, and it is great to hear Lindholm hold court sans instrumentation on this tribute. Triakel sound positively energized on this project, which does have an old-timey Swedish quality (listen, for instance, to "Karna" and you can practically imagine Triakel being broadcast out of an ancient radio). One wishes that the label had included the English translations for the songs in the liner notes, but there is a great story that is included. Apparently, Ulrika learned the song "Vackelsevisa" when she was four years old, from a travelling evangelist. However, the preacher warned that nothing must be sung but the word of God, and the preacher wanted to burn the Lindholm family songbooks and fiddle. The family hid the songbooks, and Ulrika’s father stuffed his fiddle in the attic. The preacher did not get his way, and the music lived on – as it does here, vibrantly, thanks to Triakel. - Lee Blackstone
On the web:
|
|
|
|
