Blame It on Ville Valo

My last metal review for Stormbringer.at was Sammale's Ikiharmaja—Finno-Ugric Forest Black Metal, according to Bandcamp. Solid. Honestly, I grabbed this review the moment I saw 'Finno-Ugric.' As I researched and listened, I realised it was time to share why. Why the words 'Finno-Ugric' still trigger something deep in me, why I jump at anything related to Finland, Finnish folklore, or obscure Uralic dialects.

So let’s talk about it. Let’s talk about Ville Valo, a satin ballroom dress, a wild Finland trip, and how gothic-singles.de led me to my husband.

And let’s be real: he did. More often than not, he was half-sloshed on stage.Did it matter? Abso-fucking-lutely not.

And my love for him wasn’t just some passing teenage crush—it dictated actual life decisions. Most people have a music phase. Some move on.  I, on the other hand, moved 700 km north to Hamburg to study Finno-Ugric / Uralic Studies for three and a half years. Because apparently, that’s what happens when you fall in love with a Finnish rock star.  

The irony? Despite all that—despite my degree, my obsession, my years of studying—I still don’t speak Finnish. Which is just wrong on so many levels. Why? Because I was too much of a coward to do a study year abroad. And I hate that. But what I did gain was an unshakable love for Finnish and Finno-Ugric culture—something that still makes my heart skip a beat whenever I stumble upon it. 

Of course, my obsession didn’t just stay academic.  In 2004, fresh out of school, my non-goth friend Diana and I booked a completely unplanned trip to Finland. No smartphones. No Google Maps. No safety net. We just walked into a travel agency, bought plane tickets like it was 1995, found a hostel, and hoped for the best.  

It turned into one of the most chaotic, ridiculous, and absolutely unforgettable trips of my life.  

• Cooking food in a dog bowl (washed out with shower-gel for lack of dish soap) over a self-kindled fire because we had no cookware.  
• Sleeping in a hut with our beds shoved against the door because the naked Finnish men across the road invited us to their sauna, and we panicked. Which is even more unhinged today because when I just looked on the picture again, I noticed the door openend to the outside — so. Yeah. Moving on.
• Drinking Feigling on a jetty, staring at the lake, realizing we were absolutely and completely free—young, reckless, and not thinking about anything beyond that moment.  
• Drinking tequila at Ville Valo’s old spot… despite hating tequila. The commitment was real.

Diana and I still talk about that trip. Because it was probably the most spontaneous, unfiltered, and ridiculous thing we ever did. And I’m so glad we did it.  

HIM is long gone. Ville Valo’s solo career? Eh. It exists. But I still have that Bravo poster pinned over my desk. I still have a Heartagram tattoo on my wrist, inked into my skin like a permanent reminder of those years when I was an overly dramatic, goth-romantic idiot.  

And honestly? No regrets. 

Because while my gothic phase may have faded (slightly), the things it led me to—my love for Finland, my fascination with Finno-Ugric cultures, my move to Hamburg, even meeting my husband—all of it still lingers. And that’s why, even today, if a metal band casually throws the words Finno-Ugric into their promo material, I’m already halfway into writing their review.  

Because some things just stay with you.  

And sometimes, it all starts with a teenage crush on a Finnish rock star.