The Saturday evening is cool, even cold, and a great big mass of people have parked themselves before the Main Stage at 22:45. If you don’t know what was the most anticipated band in Ilosaarirock this year, you should be ashamed. Deeply ashamed. The atmosphere is slowly condensing, there’s excitement in the air. And then it happens: Sielun Veljet returns to the stage. And starts confusing the crowd.
The act starts with a rendering of the song Lapset that’s more performance than music. Three out of the four men standing in line shouting like madmen. At least Ismo Alanko has aged gracefully, still retaining the crazy. Perhaps at his best.
With unbelievable energy, the gig is pushed to a start also musically. The second song, Nukkuva hirviö (“sleeping monster”), is a new one, perhaps a little different than their earlier material, but at least the band seems to enjoy performing it. The monster of Finnish rock has definitely woken, just as several reporters have stated elsewhere.
It looks like the entire festival crowd is watching this spectacle being performed at the Main Stage. I’m inclined to ask each audience member separately: “What’s your connection to Sielun Veljet?”Especially the slightly older festival patrons seem to be excited, it’s probably quite a thrill to hear the band playing live after all these years. I don’t know if the rest of the audience going crazy is because of the music being blared at them or if they’re just caught up in the general sentimentality caused by Saturday’s closing act. The whole festival crowd has been enchanted into a mass trance and doesn’t know how to take in the whole two hours of performance. But with Säkenöivä voima, the crowd is also woken up from their slumber and sings along from the bottom of their hearts. Herra Ylppö runs past me, perhaps to escape this hysteria of souls that the band is doling out in massive quantities.
The night grows colder, but the audience, in their trance, doesn’t seem to mind, and neither does the band. Sielun Veljet give out song after song, without any needless chitchat between the pieces. This isn’t a talkshow, this is rock and roll. People are dancing, with or without clothing, curious thoughts are forming in one’s mind, you just don’t want this to end, ever. The atmosphere is mystical and filled with strange energy. And then it’s over.
The band leaves the stage and the roaring crowd. More! And quickly! Long minutes of awkward silence. But the crowd continues to clap their hands, most of the big hits have yet to be played. And then they return to the stage. Again. At this point, dear reader, I’d like you to imagine the sound of 21 000 festival participants shouting, simultaneously, and hideously loud. Out of joy.
In their encore, the band is (if possible) even more fired up than the crowd: Kevät, Rakkaudesta, Kanoottilaulu (which just about every other Finn knows), and then, the coup de grâce, Peltirumpu. It’s hard to write anything objective of the song, since even your trusted reporter was taken in to the crazy partying, singing along and the unbelievable crazy emotion that only this song can induce.
“Pretty romantic, there’s the lights, and the fireworks are coming, and then there’s the full moon there.” someone says to someone else beside me. I could continue that list of romantic things with the existence of Sielun Veljet and the summer of love 2011.
The Ilosaarirock fireworks and Tuomari Nurmio‘s Huda Huda, played by the most legendary rock band in Finland, is a perfect combination. Ilosaarirock can be proud of the part it had with the return of Sielun Veljet, since this gig was the only proper way to end the anniversary Saturday.
Text: Veera Konsti
Photo: Aino Pohjavirta
Translation: Jaakko Suvanto
