Soft growling, cold pop, and Hammond organ chaos. Gotta love this one.
184 days till W:O:A 2023.
Finally—an album that took my heart by storm again.
Amorphis’ second studio release Tales from the Thousand Lakes (1994) didn’t just creep into my favourites list. It marched in, frost-covered and glowing, like a myth come to life.
This album is perfect as it is. Every single track.
Cold, magical, melancholic—I love all of it.
A band in transition, and a sound becoming
Amorphis formed in 1990 and have released 14 studio albums since.
This one, though? Tales from the Thousand Lakes is where things clicked. Where their now-signature sound began to emerge. It’s still rooted in melodic death metal, but there are strong undercurrents of doom, prog, folk—even 70s psychedelia if you listen close.
It’s also the first time keyboards were a central part of the band.
Kasper Mårtenson joined for this album, and you can hear the impact immediately. Clean vocals by guest Ville Tuomi stirred things up even more—divisive, sure, but I love what his nasal, eerie tone adds to the contrast with Tomi Koivusaari’s deep, soft growls.
(Yes, soft. That man growls like a sorrowful bear—it’s never aggressive, just heavy with feeling.)
Koivusaari also handled rhythm guitar, with Esa Holopainen on lead, Olli-Pekka Laine on bass, and Jan Rechberger on drums. Most of them are still in the band today, though vocals have since shifted to Tomi Joutsen.
Myth, magic, and melancholy keys
This album is soaked in atmosphere. Just look at the cover—you expect cold, mystical vastness, and the music absolutely delivers.
It starts with the instrumental Thousand Lakes—just two minutes of eerie beauty. Repetitive keyboard melodies, synth choirs, chiming bells. It pulls you straight into a haunted dreamscape in the far, icy North.
Some listeners hate the keyboards. Some hate the clean vocals. I get it. But for me? Those elements are exactly what make this work. They’re part of the mood. The mystery. The weird, winding sadness of it all.
The lyrics pull from the Finnish national epic Kalevala, which I apparently still own somewhere from university. (Note to self: go find that.)
The lyrics are short, minimal. That’s fine—this is not about narrative. It’s about feeling. And this album delivers mood in waves.
Songs that stuck with me (organ enjoyers unite)
This album works best as a whole—it’s a complete world. But there are a few songs that truly carved themselves into my spine.
-
Black Winter Day
That keyboard intro is instantly iconic. Add in a soaring guitar melody and a full-on solo for the keys? I was in love instantly. It’s melodic, catchy, and never once crosses the line into cheesy. Cold pop, but make it crushing. -
In the Beginning
A little more restrained on the synths—until the Hammond organ kicks in like a ghost from the 70s. I guess people hate this song for that reason alone. But if you don’t hate keyboards? It’s glorious. -
Magic & Mayhem
Starts slow and doomy, with the organ already creeping in. Then it shifts—trudging, dark, slightly off-kilter—and at 2:30, it just lets go. Psychedelic synth chaos explodes all over the place. It's weird. It's messy. I love it unreasonably.
A thousand lakes, one perfect album
I can’t recommend this one enough.
It pulls from so many directions—death, doom, prog, folk—and still creates a complete, cohesive world. The kind you get lost in. The kind you never really leave.
It’s strange. Beautiful. Sorrowful.
Exactly how I like my metal sometimes.
Tales from the Thousand Lakes now lives rent-free in my favourites stack.
You may hate the keyboards. I’ll be over here floating in a frozen trance, unbothered.