Album Review: Paska Kaupunki by Kauko Röyhkä & Narttu
Alright, let’s talk about Paska Kaupunki, the gritty little indie rock gem from 1985 that still feels like a punch in the gut—and I mean that in the best way possible. This Finnish record, released under Euros Records, is raw, unpolished, and full of attitude. It’s not trying to impress anyone with fancy production tricks; instead, it just grabs you by the collar and says, “Listen up.”
The album kicks off with "Tuhlausta," and man, this track sticks with you. It's got this driving bassline from Jari Paulamäki that feels like it’s pulling you into some smoky underground club where everyone’s too cool to care but secretly loves every second of it. Kauko Röyhkä’s vocals are raspy yet heartfelt, like he’s telling you a story over cheap beer and cigarettes. You can almost picture him leaning against the bar, shaking his head at life’s absurdities while Heikki Tikka’s drums keep things pounding in the background. It’s messy, real, and impossible to ignore.
Then there’s the title track, “Paska Kaupunki.” If you’re looking for anthemic vibes, this one delivers. The guitar work by Jarmo Heikkinen adds this sharp edge that cuts right through the mix, and the whole thing builds into this chaotic crescendo that makes you wanna shout along—even if you don’t speak Finnish. There’s something universal about the frustration and energy packed into these three minutes. It’s like the city itself is screaming back at you, all noise and chaos and broken dreams.
What really ties everything together is Mats Huldén’s production (or lack thereof). It’s not glossy or polished, which is exactly why it works. Juha Heininen’s recording gives the album this live-in-the-room feel, like you’re hearing exactly what went down during those sessions. And hey, props to Jani for the cover art—it’s simple, bold, and matches the vibe perfectly.
Reflecting on Paska Kaupunki, it’s wild to think this came out nearly 40 years ago. Indie rock wasn’t even really a thing yet, but here we have Kauko Röyhkä & Narttu laying down tracks that sound as fresh today as they did back then. Honestly, listening to this album feels like finding an old mixtape in your car’s glove compartment—you didn’t know you needed it until now, and suddenly it’s all you can play.
Oh, and here’s a random thought: isn’t it kinda funny how sometimes the most memorable albums come from places you’d least expect? Like, who would’ve thought a scrappy Finnish duo could create something so damn timeless? Guess that’s the magic of music for ya.
