I love the story behind the music. Not that it has to be some dramatic, sensational, or lurid tale. Rather, I just really appreciate how a little window into the artistic process can color one’s experience to elucidate, clarify, or even flip one’s perspective. The story behind Jordsjø’s ninth album, Pestkrønikene, is a simple one: founding (and only full-time) members Håkon Oftung and Kristian Frøland wanted to celebrate the band’s 10 year anniversary with something special, so they recruited some friends, dusted off some old ideas, and recorded a brilliant tribute to the music of their lives in the classic form of a concept album. Simple, yes, and so very important because, when you hear the way they put it all together, it underscores the love that went into making this record.
Imitation, of course, is the sincerest form of flattery, and there’s a lot of it in the arts. There’s nothing wrong with that. Imitation can be fun and entertaining. Tribute, on the other hand, or homage, as likely as it is to imitate to some degree, is about respect and admiration. And there’s a lot of that in the arts, as well. There’s always been plenty of it in the relatively tiny world of hard rock and heavy metal, but in recent years there’s been an explosion of heavy music that grounds itself in the aesthetics of the 70s, running the full range from imitation to homage with the expected range of results. And one particular niche has produced some of the best of it from bands like Tanith, Phantom Spell, Hällas, and Wytch Hazel, who make records that absolutely swell with the abundant spirit of heavy metal before it became Heavy Metal. Whereas those bands and others like them draw primarily from the hard rock of the time, Jordsjø’s work has mostly pulled from that era’s progressive rock sphere, albeit with a fondness for folk and a fresh take on that distinctive Scandinavian flair. For Pestkrønikene, Jordsjø zeroes in on that sweet spot where the two overlap and, when you realize that, the Dying Victims connection makes so much more sense (and then more still when you know that amazing cover art came from Obliteration/Aura Noir drummer, Kristian Valbo, who also guests on the penultimate song).
So Pestkrønikene sounds like Jordsjø, but it also sounds like a lot of other bands, recalling in some way or another the likes of Gentle Giant, Genesis, Yes, King Crimson, Rush, Camel, Wishbone Ash, Budgie, and even a bit of what-if-Steve-Howe-played-lead-guitar-on-Rocka-Rolla (phew!). Sometimes they sound like a few at once and sometimes like none of that at all. Which is so fitting, given how stylistically agile they’ve been within their domain 
(bring back the bass clarinet, please!). It’s also a great reflection of that wonderful album art in which the wizard is conjuring swaths of colorful light, beautiful and magical, but apparently innocuous. But then there’s the little woodland cryptids in the tree behind him who may just be enjoying the show but also look like they might be up to some mischief.
The real beauty of Pestkrønikene is how well it executes its concept. It’s all centered on that title, which translates as “The Plague Chronicles” and seems to be about the cycle of tragedy and rebirth throughout time and how it unfolds in the strange, fantastical place that wizard and his little buddies call home. These eight songs run through an impressive range of styles, as expected with that assortment of influences, and it’s clear each was selected for its suitability to the piece of the story that song or element of it tells. All in, it’s complex and intricate in the way of progressive rock, of course, and yet it all feels so easy, smooth and fluid, so that the album’s 36 minutes breeze by effortlessly. Above all, this album is engaging. Pestkrønikene invites active listening with its compelling story and uncanny emotive energy, and the songwriting is so strong that low, slow pastoral sections carry all the vitality of the hard rockin’ riff runs and instrumental fireworks, even when the flame burns a little lower.
The title track serves as chapter one, feels like classic Scandinavian prog, and imbues the air with an eeriness that feels somehow familiar, both threatening and inviting. “White Magic” is an upbeat rocker that features Jon A. Henriksen of Jordsjø pals, Black Magic (of course), on vocals as the White Magic Man (not the wizard on the cover, I think he comes later). It’s so irresistibly catchy it could anchor the Kool-Aid party playlist. It also portends the collapse of the world around that party.
Good fantasy has to have interesting bad guys and “Seven Heads” is the sound of the baddies having fun, as buoyant and playful as it is sinister. Then tracks four and five constitute the centerpiece of the story, remarkable in many ways, not the least of which is that they carry that weight easily as instrumentals: “Kaosvelde – Vasallens Elegi” (“Chaos Realm – Vassallen’s Elegy”) is a pastoral progressive folk piece with flute, recalling classic Jordsjø with slow melancholy, implying helplessness in the face of tragedy; its companion piece, “Kaosveldets Endelikt” (“Chaos Realm’s End”), captures the dynamic energy of the calamity with a barrage of nascent heavy metal power, fully charged and majestic, as Wobbler founder and keyboardist, Lars Fredrik Frøislie, fills the sky with stunning fire and light.
Wobbler vocalist Andreas Prestmo paints “The Awakened” in the vibrant colors of symphonic rock as he intertwines his lines with those of Oftung’s Mellotron and big bouncy bass to highlight the rise of hope and regeneration in the wake of tragedy. Meanwhile, “Spiritual Lament” lays out an absolute specimen of epic progressive rock in the smoky light of burgeoning heavy metal. And, finally, “Talisman II” rolls the ‘eavy into the intricate framework of symphonic prog, as Henriksen returns to ring in the era of rebirth with pristine melody, and the instrumental coda raises eyes and hands to the sky, hopeful and resolute.
Maybe the truest thing to say about Pestkrønikene is that it really does pay tribute in the most loving way, with as much heartfelt creative fire as doe-eyed reverence. Jordsjø made this album because they love this music. They needed absolutely no other reason. And maybe the best part of this approach to album making, aside from the sheer quality of the songs, is that the artists’ chronicle becomes the willing listener’s amazing adventure. At the very least, we get to enjoy the telling of a wonderful story, and in the most special moments, it’s as if the artists have opened a portal and invited us into their magical world.
