Battle Metal

Turisas arrived with the rare advantage of sounding fully formed. Battle Metal does not feel like a tentative debut or a collection of influences waiting to settle. It sounds like a band charging through the gates with the banners already raised, the war paint applied and every chorus engineered for a room full of people to shout back.

Battle Metal is absurd, excessive and almost perfectly committed to its own glorious nonsense.

The title track remains the obvious centrepiece, but the album succeeds because the surrounding material is not merely scaffolding. As Torches Rise has urgency, The Land of Hope and Glory balances grandeur with genuine melodic force, and The Messenger shows how effectively Turisas could shift between martial rhythm, folk ornament and heavier riffing without losing momentum. Even when the arrangements become crowded, the band understand where the song is going.

That clarity is crucial because Battle Metal is an album of enormous gestures. Keyboards, choirs, violin and orchestral textures pile into the guitars, while Mathias Nygard delivers everything with the conviction of a commander addressing an army that may only exist in his imagination. A less disciplined record would collapse into costume drama. This one turns the excess into identity.

There is humour in the spectacle, but the music is never treated as a joke. One More is a drinking song with real emotional lift, while Rex Regi Rebellis and Among Ancestors give the second half enough weight to prevent the album becoming a procession of interchangeable battle chants. The production is dense and occasionally rough around the edges, yet that abrasion helps. It feels physical rather than airbrushed.

Battle Metal is not subtle, tasteful or remotely embarrassed. It is a folk-metal record that understands theatre, pacing and the power of a ridiculous idea pursued with absolute seriousness. Turisas would later become more ambitious, but they were never more direct. As a statement of purpose, this is close to flawless.