Review Summary: Who's Afraid of the Big Bad Puffin
Albums that feel like they transport you to a faraway land are very rare in my opinion. Hamferð, hailing from the sparsely populated Faroe Islands in the North Atlantic Ocean, has put together one of those records. Before listening to Hamferð, I had never heard of the Faroe Islands. It is an autonomous territory of Denmark, located two hundred miles north of the U.K. Their economy is almost entirely reliant on fishing, their average high in the summertime reaches into the low-to-mid fifties Fahrenheit, and they only receive about thirty-five days’ worth of sunshine per year. They mainly subsist on the aforementioned fish, as well as whale, sheep, and puffin. Needless to say, it sounds like a more difficult life than most. Hamferð plays a particularly haunting style of death-doom, which pairs well with the qualities of their home. Keeping those things in mind while listening to this record, it is hard not to say that Támsins likam is imbued with the Faroese spirit.
The record begins with clean guitar and subtle keyboard playing the bass notes of the guitar chords, evoking a walk outside to freshly fallen snow and the stillness and peace that it brings. The beauty continues as another guitar joins and the keyboard begins adding notes to octave the guitar. As this continues rather wonderfully, the minor chord progression they use betray to us that something may not be right. As we plod along, the bass and drums join in on the now queasy sounding keyboard and guitar, indicating we may not be alone out here. Hamferð then uses this opportunity to pull back, highlighting the star of the record, vocalist Jón Aldará. Singing in his native Faroese, his voice is soft and emotive, yet strong and technically sound. We are then treated to the first yell of the record, which the band plays along with accordingly, producing the first moments worth headbanging to. Seconds later, Aldará’s growls are unleashed, sounding like a more brutal and punchier Mikael Åkerfeldt. Yet again, Aldará contorts his vocals, this time singing in a powerful and beautiful higher range, the wistful sounds drawing you in. The band continues to play slow, crushing riffs and before you know it, the nine minutes of the opening track have passed.
The first track bleeds into the next, this time with fishermen chanting and growls building the tension. In fact, all songs seem to run into each other in this concise 44-minute record. The last track even brings it around full circle, bringing back the guitar from the beginning of Track 1. It really gives the feeling of a night from Hell out in the elements of the Faroe Islands. The instrumentation is melodic, brooding, pretty, sometimes groovy, and heavy throughout. The keyboards consistently add a rich, subtle undertone to everything and if you focus on them, they really bring a whole lot to the table. The drums and bass keep a steady groove, and I must mention a particularly nasty drum fill towards the end of Track 3. While it is certainly not a record for someone wanting up-tempo riffing, if you allow yourself to get in the groove, I promise you that you will not stop headbanging. All these instruments, however, are just a canvas for Mr. Aldará to do his masterful work. The Faroese language adds an air of mystique to everything, plussing an exceptional vocal performance. The first song pretty much runs the gamut on his offerings, but every performance he brings is exceptional. The range of singing, as well as growling, is up there with the greats. I do not compare him to Åkerfeldt lightly.
While I cannot say this album reinvents the wheel, it does what it does extremely well. The album is a great length, not too long or too short. If you are a fan of crushing, plodding riffs, operatic vocals, intense growls, all cut with moments of beauty, this is definitely a record you should check out. The last song’s first half is a little samey, but it picks up again towards the middle. That is about the only negative I have for this album. Támsins likam is truly meant to be played loud as hell, in the cold, perhaps with a beer in hand. Turn this *** up to eleven and get hype for the new record ya ***heads.
