Manegarm – Ynglingaättens Öde
Release Date: 18th April 2022
Label: Napalm Records
Bandcamp
Genre: Folk Metal
FFO: Ensiferum, Korpiklaani, Turisas, Finntroll.
Review By: Kira L. Schlechter
Folk metal is one of those matches made in heaven, combining the heaviness of one with the melodic and structural sensibilities of the other. And no one does it better than Manegarm – I’ll die on that hill, by the way.
Singer/bassist Erik Grawsio, guitarist Markus Ande, and drummer Jakob Hallegren deliver a succinct eight tracks (plus an English version of the first single, “Ulvhjärtat”), on their latest, “Ynglingaättens Öde.” It’s the fewest they’ve ever put on an album, but a stronger set you’d be hard-pressed to find. After 25 years and ten albums (their last was 2019’s equally outstanding “Fornaldarsagor”), they’ve surpassed themselves.
The title translates to “The Fate of the Ynglinga Kin,” Ynglinga being an old Norse dynasty and Ynglingatal the Norse poem from whence the lyrics came.
What sets Manegarm apart is their songwriting, never mind if the lyrics are in Swedish – the universal language, after all, is melody, and to merely participate in and receive their powerful musical combinations is enough. Their work is completely hummable; their innate, insistent tunefulness is a joy to behold, and there’s plenty of joy here.
“Freyrs blod,” the 10-minute introduction, traverses all the moods of the band in one fell swoop. It serves to introduce both the story and the band, too, if you think about it – from the rampaging, furious rage of the opening verse (led by Jakob’s always magnificent drumming and Erik’s signature harsh vocal, phlegmy and primitive, but superbly paced and controlled); to their trademark lilt and unison singing in the lead-in to the chorus; to their most notable achievement, those choruses. The first solo is on that chorus melody; a variation, then a hushed, spare, open bridge follows, mournful, regretful, with Erik’s clean vocal weaving among strains of the fiddle. Overdubbing is added on a second section, and the third grows optimistic and soaring before quieting into another guitar solo. Two takes on the chorus, more fiddle and guitar work (during which we never lose Jakob’s groove and Erik’s bass) and two more tempo changes end things.
“Ulvhjärtat” (“The Wolfheart”) is as quick and punchy and impactful as the opening track was expansive. Like Daenerys Targaryen, our hero comes into his power by eating an animal’s heart, in this case, the wolf, and kills his rivals through betrayal and treachery before being killed himself. It starts with a swinging fiddle melody that really gets going when the band seizes it. The long first verse, which grows ever more ominous, is relieved by one of those brilliant choruses – it’s not just the melody of these, either, it’s just as much the punch and propulsion of the double kick drumming and the wisdom of Erik singing the words instead of growling them. A solo section serves as a segue between the scene-setting of the first verse and the resolution of the second, and one more go-round of that chorus you never want to end.
A looser, striding swing sets “Adils fall” apart, as does its wonderful main guitar melody that pops up at the start and between sections – it’s a touchpoint that is so pleasing to hear each time. It changes very slightly in the pre-chorus, and even during the solo, it’s still riding along, guiding the way, waiting its turn. The chorus here is marked by the folk technique of rhyming and repetition that ties each line to the next – even in the Swedish lyrics, it’s plain to see that.
It’s hard to say enough about “En snara av guld,” roughly, “A Golden Noose,” the lovely stark ballad of the Finnish woman Skjalv forced to wed her father’s killer, King Agne, “but biding her time for revenge,” according to the English translation. And revenge she gets. Hushed fiddle and acoustic are the delicate lead; a sinister flourish and the measured trod of the drums meld into the wordless chant of a completely gorgeous melody done by Erik’s daughter, Lea Grawsio Lindstrom (her enunciation on what turns out to be the final lines of the chorus is perfect). That melody is picked up by the guitars, then by the men (and Erik’s bass beneath the melody is just as notable). He begins to sing as the action proceeds, on a variation of that melody layered in close-knit harmony. The melody is at last given words in the chorus, which features Erik’s brilliant descant singing. The final time through, the men sing the penultimate line a cappella in lock-step harmony, but Lea, as our vengeful bride, gets the final word – her declaration positively rings in the mix. Just a divine, stunning track.
Eerie mouth harp, primitive drumming, and chanting open “Stridsgalten” (“The Battle Boar”) before the potent guitar/fiddle melody is established, punched along by the foot-stomping heartbeat of the drums; Jakob’s little infrequent ornamentations are real aural treats. Guest singers Jonne Jarvela (Korpiklaani), Robse Dahn (Equilibrium), and Par Hulkoff (Hulkoff/Raubtier) lend a hand here. That melody changes just slightly after the intro and into the first verse. The second verse, set off by a guitar flourish, becomes less dense as the tempo increases. A hint at the chorus and a rhythm change follows, then a faster second verse, where Erik again transfers from roaring to singing. The lead-in to the chorus has at least three distinct tempo changes (Jakob is truly this band’s secret weapon), before the droning chorus returns to the original motif. A rich swinging gait and overdubbed harmony singing makes up the bridge, then that opening groove returns before it rollicks joyfully off, only to pull up tight to a close.
Folk is put to the side for a moment with the outstanding, almost purely metal track “Auns söner.” Two verses and two slightly different pre-choruses ready us for another sticky, harmony-laden chorus – they then dare to let some meaty, nasty fiddle grab that main riff and make it their own (just for that section, but wow, is it a treat). Another verse, two more distinct pre-choruses, and twice through the chorus (with some added double kick and such), before that massive main riff kicks us out the door. Short and ever so sweet, this hip-swinging banger demands repeated listening because it’s that much fun.
“Vitta vettr” is dark and measured and deadly, dramatically serious, a distinct counterpoint to its predecessor. Another wonderful signature melody is given texture periodically by wordless singing; it pops up at points throughout, and lyrics are added to it as well. Lashings of double kick add another dimension to its steady plod. There’s a slight melodic shift in the second section, which likely signifies a change in the action of the plot. Erik again trades off between harsh and clean singing, with the occasional maddened howl to emphasize.
Erik is joined by frequent guest Ellinor Videfors on the tender closing ballad “Hågkomst av ett liv.” Fiddle and Markus’ sensitive acoustic, with drifting bits of ornamentation, set the hypnotic background to their perfectly entwining voices – this is duet singing at its finest, neither overpowering the other. Tied a bit lyrically to the first track in its mention of “Freyr’s blod,” it is a reflective, thoughtful ending to the story.
And that almost makes the added English version of “The Wolfheart” a bit unnecessary – almost. The rhythm of the words seems to notch into the melody better in their native tongue, although it’s nice to see the song’s action laid out, and it’s really nice to be able to belt out that chorus. It’s a thoughtful gesture, but the album stands squarely on its own formidable power without it, too.
(5 / 5)
