Elät Kuolet Ja Synnyt Aikakirjaimia: A Retro Finnish Gem That Still Glows
Let’s talk about Elät Kuolet Ja Synnyt Aikakirjaimia, the 1981 album by Riipinen & Suomen Ääni. This isn’t just some dusty relic from Finland's synth-pop heyday—it’s a wild ride through moody electronics and rock grit, wrapped up in a package that feels both dated and timeless. Released on Johanna Records, this record is like finding an old mixtape at a flea market: it crackles with personality, even if the production screams early ‘80s budget studio vibes.
The genres? Electronic meets rock, but don’t let that fool you into thinking it’s all cold bleeps and bloops. Nope. There’s heart here—lots of it. The styles lean toward pop-rock and synth-pop, which makes sense once you hit play. It’s catchy without being overly saccharine, experimental but still grounded enough to keep your toes tapping.
Now, let’s zoom in on two tracks that stuck with me. First up: “Aikakirjaimia.” Oh man, this one’s a trip. The synths are lush and dreamy, like someone poured liquid neon over a black-and-white photo. Then there’s Elisa Korjus’ vocals—they float above the mix like she’s whispering secrets directly into your ear. You can hear Dave Lindholm’s electric guitar sneaking around in the background, adding just enough edge to remind you this ain’t no fluffy bubblegum pop. It’s got layers, dude. Layers you wanna peel back slowly.
Then we’ve got “Elät,” which hits different. If “Aikakirjaimia” is ethereal, “Elät” is raw energy bottled up and shaken hard. Jimi Sumén (yeah, I think he’s related to that Sumén family) brings some serious groove to the table. The rhythm section locks in tight, while Helena Lindgrén adds these haunting backing vocals that give me goosebumps every time. It’s the kind of song that makes you wanna drive fast down empty roads late at night—or maybe just stare out the window and pretend you’re in a movie montage.
What really ties this whole thing together is how collaborative it feels. With credits listing everyone from Rea Mauranen to Paulyn De Fresnes, it’s clear this wasn’t just Riipinen sitting alone in a room tinkering with knobs. No way. This was a crew effort, a bunch of talented folks throwing ideas into the pot and seeing what bubbled out. And honestly? It shows.
So why does this album stick with me? Maybe it’s because it defies expectations. On paper, it shouldn’t work—an oddball blend of electronic experimentation and rock swagger coming out of Finland in the early ‘80s? Sounds niche as hell. But somehow, it clicks.
Here’s the kicker though: listening to this album today feels like stepping into a time capsule where the future hadn’t been written yet. These songs aren’t perfect—they’re messy, quirky, and unapologetically themselves. Kinda like life.
And hey, isn’t that what music’s supposed to be?
