Album Review: WINTERSUN – Time I

The moment is finally here; the Time is now (hur-hur). I suppose the default question must be: "does it meet expectations?" But could anything, really? Could any album survive its own deification? A seemingly impossible task, I agree, but even through the suppression of my rampant fanboyism the answer is a resounding yes. Impossibly, unbelievably, against all odds — Time I not only meets expectations, it confidently and thoroughly shatters them.

Listen: "Sons Of Winter And Stars" & "Time (w/Darkness & Frost)"

Eight years. Eight. Long. Years; eight impossible years. Where do I start? How do I begin? In retrospect there's something quite ineffable about the whole experience: by 2006, the rumored successor to Wintersun's masterful debut was already the stuff of legend; by 2008 it was certifiably mythological — the unicorn of epic folk metal; and by 2011 it was like a divine but long forgotten relic, mentioned only in the passing whispers of the elder tribesmen at story hour, an "I remember when…" fable told to wide-eyed children before bedtime. A legion of dedicated fans (myself included) — akin to a group of weary Christians awaiting the never-to-come rapture — sat forlorn and despondent. Hope was lost; our messiah had abandoned us.

Needless to say, I'm just a bit (severely) emotionally invested in the product at hand, perhaps moreso than any reviewer should ever admit to being. For eight excruciating years, the thought of writing this review danced through my mind like some unobtainable fantasy — but now Time I is in my grasp, its music pours from my speakers at this moment; fantasy has become reality, and now that it's here I'm not exactly sure what to do with it. I suppose the default question must be: "does it meet expectations?" But could anything, really? Could any album survive its own deification? A seemingly impossible task, I agree, but even through the suppression of my rampant fanboyism the answer is a resounding yes. Impossibly, unbelievably, against all odds — Time I not only meets expectations, it confidently and thoroughly shatters them.

Before we start, let me clear up any confusion: this is no mere metal album. It does not belong to metal. If you want to talk contemporaries then let me throw out a few — Lord Of The Rings, Pirates Of The Caribbean, Star Wars, Pocahontas (seriously, I'm almost positive I heard "Colors Of The Wind" in there somewhere). From start to finish, Time I exists entirely in the realm of movie soundtrack — and though it throws itself into the ring with bands like Nightwish and Blind Guardian, it far surpasses the scope of anything either band has ever done, making even genre staples like A Night At The Opera look like child's play in comparison. This is an album that is genuinely off the fucking wall; so complex that it's borderline incomprehensible. To put it simply: Time I is a revelation in musical form. The grandeur is palpable, the bombast unimaginable — the sweeping, triumphant majesty of it all is quite literally unlike anything I've heard previous. Make no mistakes, Jari Maenpaa has, for all intents and purposes, composed a full-fledged symphony. On his home computer. I can only hope that, at some point, the general population will realize that Jari is the Mozart of this generation; but I fear that's a discussion for a different day. Moving on.

It should only take a few minutes before the pure ambition of the album becomes apparent. Suddenly eight years seems like a justifiable amount of time. The rumored 300 tracks per song turned out to be more fact than fiction, and the amount of layers here is absolutely staggering — really, something you need to hear to believe. I can understand why some are having tepid reactions; the album is mentally exhausting — containing more information than any human brain could ever hope to immediately process. In my own experience, the first 10 or so listens of Time I yielded nothing but an indiscernible wall of sound; an indistinguishable blur of movement and melody. Patience, however, is a virtue, and with each listen more will be revealed — once it clicks, you won't ever hear it the same way again. Thousands of notes and melodies, an endless wave of synths and strings, choirs and horns, all perpetually shifting in unison; one cohesive sonic soundscape made of a million independently brilliant pieces. The meticulous attention to detail borders on god-like — each note has been tweaked to perfection — and the fact that you can hear them all clearly is nothing short of a production miracle. Is it cheesy? Over-indulgent? Over-produced? Do I wish the chaos would pause, even for a moment, so that I could hear the guitar more clearly? Absolutely. Does that make it any less incredible? Absolutely not. There needs to be a fundamental shift in perspective for those looking to enjoy a metal album with some symphonic elements — this is the exact opposite; a purely symphonic album with some metal elements. Riffs, solos, drums, etc… are all secondary to the orchestration, and in that sense, Time I could not be further apart from its predecessor.

But don't take my word for it. Pop in the disc and see for yourself. You'll find only one guitar solo, only two blast-beat sections, only one generally fast-paced song. Where Wintersun was frenetic and technical, Time I is composed and mature; where the former was chaotic and impulsive, the latter is reserved and calculated. Keep in mind folks, this is eight years later, and the music certainly reflects it — though I think it's comforting to know that 34-year-old Jari is not composing the same music as 26-year-old Jari. Think about how much you personally have matured over the last eight years; to expect Wintersun II instead of something entirely different would be to deny the universal maturation that occurs over almost a decade. And so where Wintersun was about raw energy, icy riffs, unbridled rage, Time I is about texture, atmosphere, lushness and warmth, it comes across with a certain kind of well-earned wisdom — it is the sun that inevitably rises over the frozen plains of its predecessor.

Nothing exemplifies this more than the first track. "When Time Fades Away" is something that every intro track should strive to be; the opening credits, the picturesque establishing shot; both the overture and the entrance to what comes after. Try to forget about the Pocahontas reference I've planted in your head (seriously, you'll hear it), and let the music take you away. Time I, to me, is an album made for headphones and private listening; never in my life have I heard an album that so flawlessly executes its atmosphere, that so effortlessly constructs another realm of existence, that so willingly takes the listener there and keeps him for the duration. "When Time Fades Away," layered to all hell with choirs, strings, timpani, and even the traditional Chinese Ehru (the Asian influence we've all been promised), is purely cinematic and majestic beyond words. And this is only setting the stage.

Let me be very clear. "Sons Of Winter And Stars" is, by itself, worth both the eight year wait and the price-tag. The best song of the year, one of the best songs of the last 10 years, and probably the best song that the entire genre of epic/viking/folk metal has ever produced. In this 14-minute magnum opus (and it is the fastest 14-minute song you will ever hear), Wintersun pack enough material for an entire album; to call it epic does the song a disservice. Masterpiece isn't much better. Describing it to you would be an exercise in futility, but I will say that, at its most basic level and in terms of narrative structure, the song is essentially a better and longer version of "Starchild," complete with the mind-blowing orchestrations of modern-era Wintersun. And here we also have something that is characteristic of the album at large: utterly virtuosic composition. Each and every transition is seamless — an astounding feat given the sheer number and progressive nature of the riffs — every soaring vocal line perfectly placed, every climax expertly crafted, every melody more memorable than the last and recurring motifs that tie it all together; off-beat pedal tone riffs become sweeping orchestrations, furious blast beats give way to four-part vocal harmonies,  prog-metal-esque guitar interplay builds to swooning acoustic sections. A bona fide Nordic metal anthem. Perfection.

Quite frankly, the rest of the album pales in comparison to "Sons Of Winter And Stars," though to even come close is an achievement in itself. "Land Of Snow And Sorrow" is the weakest track on the album; a mid-paced (think "Sleeping Stars") and folk-heavy piece that would probably sound more at home on an Ensiferum record. Granted, "weakest" here is a relative term, and even the most mundane of riffs are elevated by the overwhelming magnitude of the orchestration. Most notable, however, is Jari's infinitely improved clean singing voice, which carries the song through powerful choruses and intricately woven vocal harmonies. But while the song is not as involved or intriguing as the others, it does serve one major purpose; to fortify the atmosphere, to further pull the listener into an ethereal world of snow and darkness and magic. It's also a nice reprieve from what comes before and after. In this sense it succeeds, and provides the perfect bridge into "Darkness And Frost" which is essentially a glorified introduction to the albums final track.

"Time" is another mid-paced track, though its brilliance is much more apparent. This is the one that brings the album full-circle, pulling it all together through a maelstrom of powerful riffs, triumphant orchestrations, grandiose choruses and heart-wrenching vocals; also featuring the albums only guitar solo (though there are a bunch of incredible sweeps that are barely audible in the mix). A fitting end to what is perhaps the most bombastic, ambitious, and massive album of the last two decades. Though it is here, at the end of it all, where I must level my only complaint.

As the final ambiance of Time I faded from my speakers, and as I recuperated from what was essentially an assault on my mental faculties, I couldn't help but realize what a horrible, horrible decision it was to split the album in two. Time, as one continuous and conceptually cohesive work, is like a movie, and we've only got half. It is simply and unfortunately incomplete. To rate the album — to score it out of 10, or to gauge it for album of the year — would be like watching the first half of a movie and judging it on that half alone. Needless to say, you'd think the movie was pointless, incoherent, and painfully irresolute. Time I manages to avoid the first two problems, but there's no denying that it needs more; the ending is abrupt and out of place; the concept started so majestically in the beginning is left unfinished. For this reason, I simply can't bring myself to give this a definitive score. The work deserves to be viewed as a whole; it's unfortunate that whoever made the decision to split, whether it was Jari or Nuclear Blast, couldn't see that.

Still, despite that flaw, Time I is both everything I'd hoped for and nothing at all like what I expected. How could I expect it? There's nothing that can prepare you for this; this otherworldly sonic journey, this beautiful construct of melody and rhythm, this ever-changing and utterly immersive masterpiece of sound. Much like the self-titled debut, of which I consider one of my favorite albums ever, Time I will take months, if not years, to fully digest —  to even begin to comprehend —  with each listen revealing an infinite cosmic expanse of detail and harmony, of thought and musical precision. And this is only half. ONLY HALF. And what's worse? We know what comes next; we know that "The Way Of The Fire" is supposed to begin right after "Time" ends; we know, despite only having shitty live audio, that "The Way Of The Fire" is a fucking masterpiece on par with "Sons Of Winter And Stars." We know that we can't have it until 2013.

Let me leave you with an analogy. Listening to Time I is a lot like having sex. Let me explain. When you're a virgin you want to have sex — it consumes your every thought; but really, what are you thinking about? You have no idea what sex is like. But you know you want it. You're hoping to be pleasantly surprised. We were all virgins for 8 years — we wanted Time, but we didn't know why, and didn't know if we'd like it. But now we have it. We've lost our collective V-card to a Finnish man named Jari. And now we know that sex is awesome; now we know what we've been missing; now we need sex more than we ever did before. And now we can't have it. Not until 2013. This is the shit real nightmares are made of; though, I'm convinced, that in conjunction with Time II this could be one of the greatest musical creations in the history of ever. But, of course, that's just my completely objective, not-a-fanboy-at-all sensible opinion. Cheers.

"Sons of winter and stars! Rise! Rise! And we shall embrace the stars; and we shall open the doors of time…"