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HELIG SKIT!

HERREGUD!!

HERREJÄVLAR!!!

Pardon my Swedish.

I don’t know exactly what I’m relaying to the reader, but I know this: Blomljud is one amazing album.

Prior to its release, the band was taunting me with samples. I continued to resist; stating that my virgin ears wanted to experience it for the first time in its official finished format. So I didn’t allow myself a lick of it until the merchandise was on the verge of its sell by date.

Without any fanfare, it finally moseyed over to my doorstep and laid there in a nondescript package. For awhile, I didn’t give it much thought. Later when my mind wandered back to it, the mantra in my head went “Eureka! I think I’ve got it.”

With this revelation of sorts, it dawned on me that there was a bodacious booty of exclusive music nestled snugly inside that unremarkable manila mailer. Once unveiled, I deemed it worth every cotton-picking second I waited for its unheralded entrance. I only wished its coronation came with a tickertape parade or bombastic fireworks, but off the record; I would have settled for the most primitive streamers.

In any case, I hesitate to compare Blomljud to their debut as Doorway to Summer was more or less awesome, and nobody has come onto the scene like them except for maybe Spock’s Beard, The Flower King (purposely with no ‘s’), or RPWL. Yet, this is certainly airtight in its own right, and in terms of quality and value, it might actually be better. So how can you put one on a higher totem pole than the other?

All right, I tried to hold out but it’s impossible. The album with the silly name is truly superior, but let’s make one thing clear: The one that started it all was a fabulous release too.

As for the songs on this unbelievable creation, my favorite is a toss-up between the simple - but simply impressive – opener and the equally intuitive - but convoluted - epic that immediately ensues.

They bring us two discs; though you’d swear the first dish is so delish that it leaves no room for extraneous dessert. Be that as it may, there is always space for more of their insatiable Jell-O even when it’s barren of fruit toppings and marshmallows.

On the cover, there is a mariachi with a glass-enshrined red-petal posy. This has got to be from some Scandinavian fable. Read on and I’ll provide a stateside allusion to the charmed perennial he possesses.

At a time when they had just one platter to their name, Moon Safari was among my most cherished bands. They are that good in everything they do and as I’ve already alluded; they’ve put out one of the best progressive rock albums to date prior to this phenomenal installment. In my opinion, this new release actually laps that instant classic qualifier. While competition is stiff, they have dibs on the king’s throne – whether it be Roine Stolt’s pet band or Elvis’ plush mahogany chair. For the record, I don’t mean to insinuate that it has anything to do with a ceramic bowl or a place where one might do the Technicolor swirl after getting plastered at a party, because there is nothing crappy about it. Then again, this loam does come from foreign soil.

Now that these princes of the universe are queued to be crowned, let’s use the interim term to romp around their soon-to-be majestic fiefdom:

I was so impressed that I played the opening cappella called “Constant bloom” for my brother’s answering machine. I instantly caught the spirit and sang the final line. These guys have a better academic understanding of harmonics than the Barbershop Quartet or those four unrivaled tenors from Liverpool. For that matter, a battery pack of high school physics nerds would see them as brainiacs as far as this sort of audio science is concerned.

Isn’t it funny how different something looks from a distance? If there was one complaint I’d lodge about their commencement, it’s that it seemed a bit samey at times. While it was witty, I had my concerns that we were dealing with a one-trick pony. It’s now apparent that these aural astronauts aim for a catchy theme worthy of reprise. While the foregone operation had a certain consistency about it, it’s poles apart from the present mission.

Next in line, “Methuselah’s children” trollops on the grassy pastures of Spock’s Beard. Styx and stones may break its delicate bones but enticing pleasantries will keep you from hitting skip. Personally, I was ready to lock horns with the last but this persuasive poetry stopped me in my tracks. In the course of the variety show, they somehow incorporate the memorable passages from Savatage’s “Paragons of Innocence”. While I have no subtitles to go on, I swear they’re speaking their native tongue.

And if you thought that was compelling, “In the countryside” features harmony in the rounds that necessitates this ref to go to the scorecards. After further deliberation and slow-mo review, I approve of these methodical moves. I’m sure audiences will agree with my decision to stand this tactician up. Whatever the case, you should make the call for yourself.

Moving along, “Moonwalk” is strictly instrumental. Besides archival soundbytes that rove high above lunar plains, these artists do well without their palettes. In conjunction with spatial landscapes, they paint bold panoramas just like the famous Floridian colorist, A.E. “Bean” Backus, used to do. In the same manner as his eldest student, Harold “The Highwayman” Newton, they put incredible definition in the celestial firmament. Overall, this is one heck of a song and it makes me wonder if they’ve unearthed a time capsule as it suspiciously pricks a certain vessel. In my opinion, this fastidious submission is in the vein of The Moody Blues.

My dear Watson, “Bluebells” is anything by elementary. This Swedish lore presents unconventional rhythms while at the same time; demonstrates fundamentals in their lines. Likewise, this stick of bubblegum couldn’t be any more Beatlesque, because this intrinsically introspective pop they’ve produced is pedantic.

Down to the wire and in the clutch, “The Ghost of flowers past” ends on a note that is – believe it or not - equal to their miraculous start. No lie, the very last verse gave birth to erubescent butterflies. Before the heartrending finale, we are treated to lyrical histrionics that take us to the brink of cheerful hyperthermia. You’ll be astonished by the staccato they use to reel you in. Before you know it, you’re flapping around in the boat as they end side one.

I regret to inform you that the first disc is somewhat better than the second. Even so, the latter is still above sea level, but I should divulge a secret. The direction they go in is not at all what’s expected.

The first song, “Yasgur’s farm”, is Creedence Clearwater Revival infused with the bug juice of Lynyrd Skynyrd’s “Swamp Music”. While crocs are involved in this folly, Frogger leaps beyond the logjam to the safety of Transatlantic's “Suite Charlotte Pike”.

The second retreat is closer to home. However, “Lady of the woodlands” fancies The Kissers from afar. [If you’ve never heard of those assertive snoggers, please do an online search and give them a listen. Their frontman is best known for his work with Little Blue Crunchy Things.]

“A tale of three and tree” would be charming enough for a Rankin-Bass telecast. As a result, I anticipated the appearance of comedians Jimmy Durante and Jackie Vernon. While this never happened, its nostalgic plot is on the up and up. Simultaneously, its non-canonical Claymation is invariantly low-key.

On the flip side, the “Other half of the sky” makes the extended venture all the more worth it. As if it were the Nordic cousin to Genesis' “Supper's Ready” or the fraternal sibling to The Flower King’s “Garden of Dreams”, this Smorgasbord of leafy greens is quite comprehensive. It has portions that dance in the heads of Transatlantic’s “Duel with the Devil”. Then, at the spur-of-the-moment, it’s an advocate for Emerson, Lake, and Palmer. They also find the means to arouse that roaring riff that’s dominant in Dream Theater’s “The Test That Stumped Them All.” As much as these instances are engulfing, its finest licks are categorically unfamiliar, and ultimately it’s the lyrics that make it captivating. In contrast, this conclusive epic is a lion compared to the ballads in this kitty litter. Consider it to be a real bonus because the first disc stands alone as a full-blown outbreak. Still, I’ll take whatever digital syndrome is transmissible from them and you’d encounter a serious problem if you tried to pry this musical anecdote from my greedy hands. On the whole, I cannot get enough of these synergistic maestros.

With songs such as this; you’d be a sorry sack to sit on the couch in front of the boob tube eating Fritos when you could be outside frolicking to this wondrous music on your iPod.

By the way, there is one more hidden gem that runs after an extremely deceitful pause. “To sail beyond the sunset” is comparable to Genesis’ “Carpet Crawlers”. Only this time, the fibrous environment is for toddlers. So no need to encase your mattress as there are virtually no bed bugs in the box springs nor is there any discernable amount of doggy dander on the floor.

With that in the books we await the next contagion, but that doesn’t mean we should forget this fast-acting agent. Going back in time, I had a conniption when Transatlantic broke up, and I was significantly verklempt when Neal Morse ditched the genre’s nerve center. My depression slid further into the abyss when my support system, The Flower Kings (now the plurality is purposely intended), opted out of RoSfest ‘08. I felt deserted and all alone, as if my one true love had left without a trace.

Fortunately, this disc is better (and cheaper) than psychotherapy. Due to its healing powers, I am presently cured from that post-traumatic series of episodes. If you too are having stressful flashbacks, I recommend this effectual placebo to wipe away your woes.

Now that passports have been endorsed with copious stamps of approval, I’d like to mention the empathetic thespians responsible for this enthusiastic journey:

If it seems as if I’ve formed an impartial allegiance with this group, you’d be right. The members of Moon Safari are my remote peers and faraway friends. In a word, they’re my “peeps” and I adamantly support – with rampant prejudice - each and every song they’ve pressed.

Petter Sandström plays the guitars like Daryl Steurmer or maybe Brian May whereas Johan Westerlund is Chris Squire all the way. There are definitely Flower King influences in much of their mannerisms too. In particular, Tomas Bodin’s mentorship is evidently applicable in how Simon Åkesson twiddles the keys. Like the saying goes, these progenic apples have not fallen far from their prodigious trees.

As for the conceptual elements, the following yarn - from Disney’s Beauty and the Beast - might best describe what these wunderkinds have most recently churned out:

In the prologue, an old beggar woman arrives at the castle of a young, selfish French prince. The old beggar woman asks for shelter from the bitter cold, and in return, offers the young prince a rose. Repulsed by her appearance, the prince turns the old beggar woman away. It is then that the old beggar woman reveals that she is a beautiful enchantress and conjures a powerful curse, transforming the heartless prince into a hideous beast (as a reflection of his cruelty and hatred), his servants into anthropomorphic household items, and the castle into a dark, forbidding place, so that he will learn to not judge by appearances. The curse can only be broken if the Beast learns to love another and receives the other's love in return before the last petal of the enchantress's rose withers and falls; if not, he would be doomed to remain a beast for the rest of his life. As the years passed, the Beast stayed hidden in the gloomy castle, convincing himself that no person could love such a hideous beast. -- Excerpt from Wikipedia.

Blomljud embodies that story to a tee; tugging on the heartstrings right to the very end. Only then does it trek through a parallel plot device known to us as disc two where accidental lovers find attraction after a calamitous ricochet. Both chapters are climatic and bittersweet. It’s almost as if they’ve filmed and screened their third release.

Like Magic Pie, they’ve gotten our attention and then subsequently stunned us with an inexplicable sequel; though this might be the most impressive commencement I’ve ever seen when considering the sophomore and the frosh. Now we must look ahead to ascertain if they have staying power in their senior years. My fortune-telling ball from Mattel responds with, “All signs point to yes”.

In this tournament for melodic supremacy, Moon Safari has easily made the sweet sixteen and moved onto the elite eight. Can they reach the coveted final four or become the upset special on their way to the championship game? Time will tell even if cryptograms from flowers past point to prophesies of greatness.

As for the current matchup, this perky brew is the perfect pick-me-up when you’re down and out. I wasn’t in the best of moods when I first played it. Minutes later, I switched into a mode that was conducive to a sing-along. On that note, you almost don’t want to chant in fear that you’ll muddle their breathtaking voices -- which are innocent and pure when left untainted. The album runs the gamut in terms of sentiment but for the most part; it’s jubilant and manic.

When you’re exhausted by stale beans or the daily grind, put Blomljud on. It’ll be like a premium cup of coffee peculating in your newly caffeinated mind.

9.8/10
Reviewer: Josh Turner

[Once upon a time, fans like me once worried that the tidal wave of talent was short-lived and washed up. Looking at my score, you might think I’m wasted on malt liquor as I’ve provided accolades to The Tangent, Din Within, Phideaux, Manning and several others. The truth is that every year bests the last with a cornucopia of skilled tacticians who forge a galore of masterpieces. As for this one, even my dog agrees that this is pretty close to paws-down progressive perfection.]

--- Parental Advisory and Spoiler Alert for this Extra Unrated Footer ---

For those of you who glossed over everything I wrote, the overriding expletive is that this album is EFF’ING fantastic.

Oops… please forgive my bilingual potty mouth.

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Discography
Blomljud (2008)
A Doorway To Summer (2005)