The old lament tradition of Karelia, Ingria and Finland seems to be experiencing something of a renaissance, both as a practice people want to learn themselves and as the seed of new musical adventures. The ensemble Surento, a trio consisting of Liisa Matveinen, Emilia Kallonen and Emmi Kuittinen, combines traditional laments elegantly with their own creations on their debut album Sulatoin, reminding listeners of the breadth of the lament tradition.
All three sing and lament, while the subtle instrumental touches (kantele, ukulele) work nicely adding variety to the whole. Strictly traditional laments are included, but what is new here is the free approach to exploring what three lament artists can come up with together. Surento brings a fascinating cultural history into our own time.
Not just music
The combination of three individual voices works well, and they are in no way tied to any fixed concept of vocal composition: they sing in one, two or three parts, depending on what the musical vision requires. Somehow, I feel that the variety of voices brings to life the collective, the community in which these laments once played an important role.
Do not expect nicely polished, perfectly tuned background music. Some moments are quite intense and hard to listen to. But there are also beautiful sung tunes here, such as Liisa Matveinen’s “Käki” (The Cuckoo). Laments have a connection not only to death, but also to departure, belonging for example to wedding traditions. I am especially moved by the laments for dead children and the farewell to the recruit, who is told that he cannot clean his gun, “because it is always covered in tears”.
Runo singing in another language
While Surento is a relatively new ensemble, Maria Kalaniemi is a well-known name in Finnish contemporary folk music, with a career spanning several decades. Over the years, she has constantly expanded the possibilities of her instrument, the accordion, while also increasingly making use of her crystal-clear singing voice. She is an emotionally intense player with a broad dynamic range, moving from dreamy atmospheres to groovy dance tunes.
Already in her doctoral research, Kalaniemi was actively diving into the world of runo song, and over the past twenty years she has explored her Finnish-Swedish identity, especially on the memorable album Vilda rosor (Wild Roses, 2010). On her latest creation, Tåreportens pärla (Tears to Pearls, 2026), these two chapters in her story come together. Here Kalaniemi does something entirely new by taking up traditional runo singing in the Swedish language.
The splendid 1999 Kalevala translation by Lars and Mats Huldén, father and son, is now sung, to my knowledge for the first time. And what could be more suitable than starting with Song 41, the passage about the hero Väinämöinen and the power of music?
Ornamented story telling
The Swedish translation works magnificently well in the runo metre and the traditional tunes. Thus, the interpretation stays close to tradition – only the language has changed. The storytelling carries the music forward, and Kalaniemi colours it elegantly with her accordion. The musical ideas follow the text closely yet freely, moving from joy to lament.
Kalaniemi has a rewarding habit of regularly pairing up with new duo partners, and this time she has recorded together with jouhikko (bow lyre) wizard and folk singer Pekko Käppi. The combination of voices is smooth, Kalaniemi’s bright sound contrasting Käppi’s darker, velvety voice. The jouhikko occupies a smaller role than I initially expected, mostly ornamenting lively on top, but it truly feels like part of an inspired conversation.
The record forms a single continuous whole, 31 minutes spent in the company of these musicians, recorded in one take. Some moments stand out providing welcome variety, such as the solemn “Hymn” and the wild “Maanitus” dance, where the jouhikko finally grooves around. The solo epilogue sounds almost like a phone call from the past.
Delicate but wild on baroque instruments
Runo song has been elevated into something of a national symbol, but folk traditions and folk music are in fact an open world without nation-state borders. The newer layers of Finnish folk music (pelimanni music) are closely connected not only tothe other Nordic countries but also to Central-European trends.
Musician and researcher Krishna Nagaraja has zoomed out from the Finnish and Nordic perspective and dived especially into the world of polska tradition. With the ensemble Brú, he combines traditional tunes from several Nordic countries on their debut album Sjungande danser (Singing Dances), playing both baroque viola and Hardanger fiddle himself while also arranging the music.
All the musicians of Brú have a background in early music, and some arrangements draw more heavily on that aspect, but most of the pieces form a folky, joyful, swinging feast – even the funeral tune “Martins begravning” (Martin’s Funeral), certainly one of the happiest funeral tunes I have ever heard!
The instrumentalists Ilkka Eronen (baroque flute), Aira Maria Lehtipuu (baroque violin), Louna Hosia (baroque cello) and Solmund Nystabakk (theorbo) are leading names in the Finnish early music scene, and they seem equally at home in folk music. The sound and phrasing of the baroque instruments are smooth, delicate and tasteful, but the musicians of Brú also know how to go wild, clearly relishing the blue notes woven into the repertoire.
Shape-shifting magic
The repertoire includes Swedish, Norwegian and Finnish tunes, both instrumental and vocal music, ranging from the wordless trall tradition to long ballads. The storytelling landscape is skilfully painted in the arrangements. I especially enjoy the combination of the ballad “Näcken och jungfrun” (The Water Spirit and the Maiden) with Norwegian Hardanger fiddletunes, giving the shape-shifting, fiddle-playing water spirit (Näcken) his own magical colour.
As for the singing, Brú has a true gem in their fantastic lead singer Luciana Mancini, another magical shape-shifter. She is better known as a mezzo-soprano in the early music field, but here she reveals her folkier side, displaying a fantastic variety of sounds and strong sense of rhythm.
All the arrangements except one are by Krishna Nagaraja, and he plays his cards very well, building the dynamics carefully and adding small surprises without ever losing focus of the tunes themselves.
All three records discussed here bend boundaries bravely, though the musicians possess a deep knowledge of the traditions they engage with. Brú is working on the frontier between early music and folk music, and one can only hope they will find open-minded listeners in both genres.