On Friday the 29th, Sowulo will release their 5th studio album called Niht.
We were honoured that we were allowed to listen to the album in advance.
Our reviewer Cliff de Booy has been all over this new masterpiece from Sowulo, and came back all enthusiastic and inspired.
According to Cliff: ‘Niht is a beautiful album, taking the intense power of previous Sowulo recordings, and adding even more layers to it, leaving me longing for more, every time the music finishes.’
Read all about the new Sowulo album Nihthere on the CeltCast website. We at CeltCast can’t wait for the official release, so we finally can share this beautiful music with you, our listeners, on our radio playlists.
Sowulo – Niht (2025)
26Aug
Cliff de Booy
0 Comments
I still remember listening to Mann for the first time. It felt like an intense outpouring of male emotion in all its raw forms. I was stunned by it, overwhelmed. The 2022 album Wurdiz had a slightly different energy. It started with that same emotionally overpowering wall of sound but the impressive vocals of Micky Huijsmans brought more balance to the songs, a female perspective so to say. And the theme of that album -fate – also made room for different perspectives which reflected in the music. It made room for softer songs, even a tender ballad. This makes Wurdiz a lovely album, beautiful to listen to.
And now we have Niht. The Fifth Sowulo album altogether and the third one in its current Anglo-Saxon orchestra form. Just as on the previous albums, composer and lyricist Faber Horbach takes us back deep into the dark ages and beyond. Back to the times of the Ingvaeones, the Germanic North sea tribes. The
Angles and Saxons in particular. And again, the end result is stunning.
The intro Niwe Mōna sets the tone. Tribal, enchanting but raw with a touch of inner pain. Seolfren Sicol then kicks in with the punch we are used from Faber. Strong, powerful and full of emotion. Micky and Faber sing the lyrics together as a two-man choir. Their voices blend really well together, Micky adding hugely to that already impressive mix of clean and distorted layered vocals that Faber always uses.
But to my pleasant surprise the music then eases back, giving Sowulo’s music a new dimension that I haven’t heard on their last albums that much. The driving percussion and strong vocals are still at the core of this song, but there is suddenly room for some subtle harp playing, some beautiful clean harmonies by Micky and Faber, some lovely cello, some impressive sweeps of the carnyx. And the chorus is seriously catchy. I’m liking this. I’m liking this very much.
Āsteorfan is an equally impressive song. It sounds like a whole orchestra and choir just entered the room. The carnyx joning in makes this tribal orchestra sound even more majestic. The composition itself keeps building up to something truly huge. Layer upon layer of vocals, strings, percussion and carnyx create that wall of sound that Sowulo is so well known for. Wow, this is something. Only downside is you need some headphones and the volume cranked up all the way to fully appreciate the potential of this composition (this is too massive and orchestral to be called a song). Somehow the mastering seems a bit flat. A bit safe. I’m missing something. A bit of a kick. The sound does not grab me by the throat when I play it as I’m used to with the previous albums. Maybe it is because I got the album in advance. I sure hope so, because the potential in the song is there. Faber clearly wrote it to be something massive, something huge.
I have the same problem at the start of Sōl ond Māni. The drums sound slightly overproduced. There seems to be too much effect on them and at the same time they sound clipped, therefore pushing the other instruments away. Especially the subtle percussion elements under it that I can only hear with my headphones fully blasting. But let’s not dwell on that, and listen to what we do have here. Another strong song oozing dark folk out of every note played. Listen to that impressive carnyx wailing over Micky’s vocals. Pure goosebump material. The drums do drive the song on by the way. Like a slow monster. Treading over the world. Unstoppable, scary, beautiful. A song that gets stronger and stronger the more I listen to it. Which goes for the whole album, actually. These songs are like good wine: they need to ripen. I started out liking them. Now at my eight or ninth listening run I’m truly loving them, despite the small remark I made about the mix earlier.
I have to focus on Micky Huijsmans at this point in the review. Faber has given her a much bigger -almost leading- role on Niht and I’m so happy he did that. She is glorious on it. Just listen to her powerful vocals on Sōl ond Māni. You really need some huge lungs and vocal chords to be able to hold your own against the wall of sound that Faber created while writing this composition. And she is nailing it, trust me. Yet, her voice is flexible enough to start small, to be fragile and breakable and as the song progresses she is blasting those notes out. Climbing up on top of that huge wall of sound. Wailing her heart out from the top of it. Becoming one with it. Well done, Micky.
OK we carry on. Full Mōna is another epic song with a lovely catchy chorus to cheer things up a bit. I predict this will become a live hit during concerts, just like Wulfwiga Miċele Steorran is sung by Faber, but with a lot less effect on his voice then he normally uses. His sound is clean on this song and I like that. It suits this tribute to the stars, this celebration of the night. Faber once wrote and recorded Alvenrad because he wanted music he could play to celebrate the pagan year celebrations. This time it feels he wrote the music to honor the powers of the moon and the magic of the night sky. It seems to celebrate eternity and the darkness that goes with it. The further I get on this album, the more it feels like a ceremony to me. A celebration of the night. And through its darkness also a celebration of life.
The next highlight is Nihtēagan. It starts really beautiful with an intimate moment between Faber, Chloe on harp and Micky. The contrast between the subtle harp play and the raw emotional harsh vocals of Faber make this such a powerful moment. This is so well composed. Before you know it the sound of the nyckelharpa grabs you, sweeping you into a grand chorus of orchestra and choir. Again Micky shines in a beautiful solo moment. And again I wished the mix was a bit more dynamic so her vocals would really cut through the music, making her outpourings really hurt inside, because I can feel the music was meant that way. It was written by Faber to touch something deep inside of us, in a truly spiritual or emotional way. This is where Faber Horbach excels. It is not the first time that I have called him a classical pagan folk composer and it most likely will not be the last time. His compositions have the same strength, the same grand power that songs like Land Of Hope And Glory by Edgar Elgar also have. But then in a tribal, pagan way.
Talking about classical pagan music, we now come to one of my highlights on this album. A solo for carnyx. And what a solo it is. This beautiful instrument gets its moment to shine. It is truly stunning to hear all the possibilities this beautiful instrument has. It growls, it screeches and it tears at the moon. Its howls are beautiful and disturbingly eerie at the same time. It can sound beautiful, full and harmonious like a horn at one moment; growling, gnarly and angry like a wolf the next; or even impressively high-pitched like an elephant’s cry in the night. And all that with a human touch, a deep sadness in it. Absolutely beautiful and disturbing at the same time. No wonder the Germanic tribes used the carnyx as a war instrument. Imagine what would happen if you have a 100 of these things wailing at you while you wait for the things to come. But played like this, by Faber, it’s an instrument of beauty. A prehistoric voice brought back through time, crying out from the ancient depths of history in all its beauty. Faber, thank you for that!
Eald Mōna beautifully picks up on this. To me it feels like a march. A tribe on its way to find the light again; marching into a tunnel of darkness; one by one; looking for the new moon; to drag it out of its cave and have the circle start all over again. There is a beautiful sadness in this song, a melancholy in the melody that I really like.
Swefnian has beautiful lyrics. Without music it reads like a poem. Overall, you can hear that Faber has grown as lyricist, just as he has grown as a composer. Niht is a beautiful album, taking the intense power of previous Sowulo records, and adding even more layers to it, leaving me longing for more every time the music finishes. Luckily, Niht is just a chapter in the cycle of life; just a moment in time. There are many more moons to come. Many more moments to grow. I cannot wait what the next cycle will bring for Sowulo, but until then I will happily have Niht ‘cycle’ its rounds in my CD player, time and time again! To celebrate the beauty of music, to celebrate the beauty of the night -and most importantly – to celebrate the magic called life.
Cliff
Editor: Iris Cover Art: Faber Horbach band photography: Henk van Rijssen (FB) live photography: Cliff de Booy
In one of her latest blogs Kati Rán wondered what the future holds for pagan folk. Well, judging by the music of new bands like Noiduin, Furda and STFUR, the future looks really bright. Dutch band Laguz is another new star on the pagan folk horizon. And their debut album A View From Down Below certainly deserves an in-depth review. And we here at CeltCast predict this band to have a very bright future ahead of them.
Just a few notes into opening track Io Evohe and I already know one thing fur sure. A View From Down Below just oozes neo-pagan folk. All the ingredients are there: An almost drone-like hurdy-gurdy tune, supported by rattles and percussion giving this song a real archaic, tribal feel; background laughter that instantly pulls my imagination into an enchanted forest; a mesmerising hand flute mimicking the sound of an owl, luring you in, weaving in and out of the music like morning mist jumping from tree to tree in the wakening forest. Or are they night spirits returning to their boroughs? And these are only the first few seconds of the song! Vocals come in, chanting, giving the song a spiritual feel even strengthened by the throat-singing backing vocals. Yet the rhythm of the percussion, the flute wondering through the sound like a breeze in the air, the laughter in the background make Io Evohe sound light and lovely and captivating. It sounds like we are in for a feast, and this is just the intro to the album. I’m already intrigued. What will be next?
While my mind is still floating on the last enticing notes of Io Evohe, the first notes of the second song Bacchanalia already kick in. Totally taking me by surprise but also fully engaging me in the album at the same time. Well done by the brothers Kasper and Samuel de Vries who recorded and mixed this album together. Gone is the mysterious feel of the intro. The sound is now open, with lots of space for all the instruments. A sound that Laguz maintains throughout the whole album. The band leads me down into a beautiful Balkanesque instrumental tune. One after another, all the instruments take the lead. Their solos, melodies and improvisations luring me in deeper and deeper. With my headphones on I’m totally emerged in this wonderful melody. The notes are constantly dancing together, interacting, calling, responding, flowing in and around each other like leaves falling down in a breeze. I’m really loving this. Overall, the song feels open, friendly and light, but don’t be fooled. A sudden break takes the sound from a lovely Balkanesque-meets-SeeD vibe into a rawer RastabanArise feel, just to flow into a catchy Twigs & Twine-like sound… …and then the song becomes a beast of its own. Dark, klezmer-like violin improvisations give me the first shivers of excitement. As the flute leads us back to the main theme — now fully matured — I know we are in for something good. Something really special.
The third song How Curious the Light Behaves confirms that. Again, I get that whiff of klezmer as I listen to the chalumeau intro. The longing oozing out of every note that is played. How Curious The Light Behaves is inspired by a poem and you can hear that. Vocalist Samuel de Vries has the voice of a bard, full of emotion and warmth. The perfect interpreter for this beautiful Irish poem by an unknown writer. The band accompanies his words brilliantly. Their notes wrapping around his words like a cloak. Strengthening their meaning, becoming a poem itself as the song goes and goes. The instrumental break is a thing of beauty. It starts as a beautiful duet between recorder and chalumeau, but one by one, the other instruments flow in, and a choir brings it all to a wonderful climax before the song falls back into its original form. Just a voice, a violin and a guitar. Well done! This is something else.
By now I really want to know who this band is. Where did they come from? How can a debut album be this good? Time to dive into their Biography: ‘Formed in 2012 in the south of The Netherlands, Laguz started out as an acoustic pagan-folk band, inspired by folkloric traditions, early music, and artists like Faun and Loreena McKennitt. Over time, their sound has grown into something deeper and more atmospheric, but still grounded. Music that looks back, without getting stuck in the past. Their songs are mostly original, though they occasionally rework traditional pieces. The lyrics flow between English and other European languages, and the themes often touch on nature, pre-Christian spirituality, and old ways of being. Their name, taken from the rune Laguz, reflects that spirit of flow—emotional, intuitive, always moving. In 2023, they released their first single, Minne, and followed it up a year later with their debut album A View from Down Below — a moody, intimate journey through Mediterranean heat and northern forests.‘
Well… I don’t have much to add to that. Their biography sums the band up perfectly. Several band members were or are involved in other bands and projects, mostly party folk and folk metal bands, so they are definitely not new to the scene and you can hear that. But although they brought the experience of working on those other project with them, Laguz is certainly not the sum of those other bands. There is not a heavy or party note in sight here! No, Laguz is something unique. Although clearly oozing pagan folk with every note they play, I cannot point it down to another specific band. Laguz has their very own sound. They sound like Laguz! And that’s the biggest compliment I can give them. And I’m only at song three, there is so much more to come! To Mimir, for instance, is a beautiful harp ballad, again starting small but ending in a grand sound. There is Treelore: a ‘power’ ballad that reminds me a bit of Emian’sSpirit trail. Especially because singer Samuel de Vries and Danilo Lupi (Edea, ex-Emian) have the same type of sound.
Lunaria is another lovely song. Starting nice and catchy, but developing into a beautiful pagan folk pearl. Big, bold, full of details, but always open and pleasant. The song feels like a Northern forest brook streaming through an Eastern Mediterranean paradise garden filled with butterflies. Gentle, calming, pleasant, but once you start to really listen there is so much sparkling detail in there. Like candy for the ears.
This album just flows and flows and flows. Every song gets its time to grow into a beautiful entity. Nothing is rushed. No note sounds out of place and all the musicians are to be commended for their skills. They feed off of each other. Each solo seems to flow out of the previous one, as if it’s an endless dance of notes and skills. Laguz’ music ‘travels’ from note to note, from place to place. And we are but Nomads traveling with it. Drifting on the calm power of this beautiful, poetic CD.
Cliff
Editor: Iris Album cover: Kasper de Vries Photography: Karlijn Groenendijk
Reviewer’s note: Those of you who’ve already bought this album may have noticed that my comparisons and descriptions are different from those that the band give in their comments liner notes that goes with the CD. That is because I always listen to an album first, without reading any information, to be as open-minded as possible. So the comparisons are my own. They are my interpretation of the music Laguz makes. They are my own dreams an thoughts. But that is the cool thing, isn’t it? That everybody will dream their own dream while listening. It is also the magic of A View From Down Below, that the band managed to take make me dream. Trust me, these songs will take you places. So close your eyes and start dreaming. Flow away with the melodies. May it take you to your own place of peace and beauty. Just as it did with me.
BmB – Ge Vindt Wel Een Taal (2021)
01May
Cliff de Booy
0 Comments
I have to come clean straight away. This album review is way overdue. In 2021, Wouter Kuypersent me a copy of his – then – latest project, BmB, asking if I would want to listen to it and maybe review it if I liked the album. I did like it, but before I got around to writing the promised review life got in the way and I started my review sabbatical. A couple of weeks ago, Ge vindt wel een taal found its way back into my CD player and I fell in love with it once again. High time to finally make good on the promise I made Wouter 4 years ago.
The album starts with De nachtegael / nachtegaelgavottes, a suite of gavottes des montagnes, and it’s really interesting in many ways. First and foremost, the lyrics are in Flemish and they feel really recited, as if singer Luc Plompen is singing out a poem. Highly unusual in the balfolk world, but also really cool. Luc’s voice is perfect for this kind of sung recitation: it’s full of emotion, cuts trough the music and is slightly hoarse. Perfect to captivate any audience. The music is kept really simple: the notes seem to flow quietly while Luc is singing, but they dance like a butterfly in the sun when Luc falls silent. The song sounds slightly klezmer-like in its playfulness. A really cool start to this album that sets the tone perfectly.
The playfulness is kept in the second song, Is dit wel niet een vreemde gril. I love the Flemish language. It’s a version of Dietsch, the language we Dutch people are named after, but somehow Flemish developed into a richer, more poetic version in comparison. You can feel centuries of culture and history in it. It’s also pronounced softer, more pleasing to the ear than Dutch, and it suits the music very well. Is dit wel niet een vreemde gril sounds so playful because of it. Again the notes seem to dance around just like a group of butterflies in the sky.
Déjeuner sur l’herbe is the first instrumental song, a waltz in 3, and a lovely duet between Nick van Uden-Luteijn on accordion and Wouter Kuyper on bagpipes. Ge vindt wel een taal is a balfolk album, but it works equally well as a pure listening album. It’s the perfect album to dance to, but also to relax to after a long day of work, or to start your day happy and in a good mood.
BmB playing Déjeuner surl’herbe at Cadanza 2018
Les vignerons / Le ménage a trois is in French and although I don’t understand the lyrics, they still give me that warm hug the whole album is giving me. It proves that Luc is the perfect singer for this delicate, ever so slightly melancholic, but oh so playful music which oozes authenticity. It feels old yet modern at the same time. On one hand, you have the poetic approach that makes it sound rich in history. The sound of the bagpipes gives me instant medieval vibes. You feel like you’re in a medieval court swirling and laughing at a feast that will carry on all night. On the other hand, the accordion pulls you into the now, as does the production. The sound is so crisp and clean, perfectly done. The music keeps its open, simplistic feel during the whole album. You don’t need much to make beautiful music. A voice, an accordion a chalumeau or some bagpipes , that’s all you hear in most of the songs. No drums, no bass, no special effects, nothing. Just the power of those rich instruments filling up the room and your good mood. Simple, really impressive and so lovely all at once; a brilliant album, as I have come to expect from Wouter Kuypers – who you off course also know from his other balfolk project, Wouter en de Draak.
Another strength of BmB is that they keep the listener interested by adding little surprises. A recorder comes in at track 5, the BmB-wals. Marching drums walk in at track 7, Prince d’Orange (making this the first time I noticed any kind of percussion on this album). Bagpipes suddenly take the lead on Kievit and just when you are easing into the end of the album, thinking you have heard it all, Niki van der Schuren joins Luc with the most perfect Yorkshire accent to change the whole feel of the album for a moment. A fun clash of English pub folk and the timeless melancholic troubadour folk that BmB have been playing all along. And I haven’t even touched the perfect harmonies from the three gentlemen you hear on Lou diziou bè / bourrée a Ribeyrolle. It makes Ge vindt wel een taal into what it is: a very enjoyable, well-made record.
The order of songs is also perfect. We go from a waltz to a tricot, from a jig to a polka, from a mazurka tot a bourrée. The rhythms change constantly to keep you interested: from slow but light to fast and cheerful, but always with this reminiscent, timeless feel and with that ever-so-slightly melancholic feel that is so typical for the sound of the accordion, chalumeau, bagpipes and recorder and that is also an intricate part of the French and Flemish language.
Throughout the entire album I could see balfolk dancers swirl and turn before me when I closed my eyes, but I could also see those butterfly notes dancing, making this a wonderful album not only for dancers, but for everyone who enjoys good music. Have a glass of wine, settle somewhere in the sun with a good book, or just sit on the couch an close your eyes. This is the perfect album to calm you, yet bring you into the best mood possible. Ge vindt wel een taal is a beautiful CD that absolutely deserves its moment in the spotlight with this CeltCast review – even if I’m 4 years late.
For many of us, Irdorath entered the scene with their memorable contribution to the online Castlefest-edition of 2020. That contribution Live in the Woods has now been released as a CD – an absolute must-review for our reviewer Cliff! Have a look at this review to learn why this release is also a must-have!
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