Is The Outside Still There by Tellusalie: A Folk-Rock Gem That Feels Like Home
You know when you stumble across an album that just clicks? Like, it’s not trying too hard to be cool but somehow nails everything anyway? That’s Is The Outside Still There by Tellusalie for me. Released back in 2006 out of Norway, this indie-folk-rock gem sneaks up on you with its raw charm and heartfelt grit. It’s like a warm hug from someone who gets it—messy life, big feelings, all of it.
Let’s talk about the people behind this thing first because they’re basically a DIY dream team. Ole Jørgen Ottosen handles vocals, harmonica, bells (yes, bells!), and even writes the lyrics. His voice has this raspy sincerity, like he’s whispering secrets only you can hear. Then there’s Anders Lie, who plays so many instruments I lost count—drums, banjo, guitar, organ, slide guitar, accordion, tambourine… seriously, does he ever sleep? And Freddy Antonsen holds it down on bass while casually tickling the piano keys. The whole crew feels less like a band and more like a bunch of friends jamming in a cozy cabin somewhere far away from the world.
Now onto the tracks. I gotta shout out “Big Boys Bark” because damn, it sticks. There’s something about the way the drums kick in, steady and grounding, while Ole’s voice cracks over lines that feel both personal and universal. You don’t need to understand every word to get the vibe—it’s frustration, hope, maybe regret, all rolled into one. By the time the chorus hits, you wanna scream along, even if you’re alone in your car.
And then there’s “See You Sometimes,” which is just... achingly beautiful. It’s slower, softer, almost fragile. The slide guitar weaves through the song like a thread pulling at your heartstrings, and Ole’s delivery is hauntingly tender. This track makes me think of old goodbyes and missed connections, the kind that linger long after the moment passes. Honestly, it’s the kind of song that makes you stare out the window and wonder what could’ve been.
The rest of the album follows suit—tracks like “Instant Joy” bring a bittersweet energy, while “Sorrow” leans fully into melancholy without being overwhelming. Even the quirky ones like “Queen Latoya” add texture, keeping things unpredictable yet cohesive. Magnus Abelsen’s mixing on certain tracks gives them this lush, layered quality that pulls you deeper into the sound.
What strikes me most about Is The Outside Still There is how human it feels. Nothing here is overly polished or perfect, and that’s exactly why it works. These songs breathe; they live and ache and laugh alongside you. Listening to it feels like flipping through faded Polaroids of memories you didn’t realize you had.
So yeah, this album might not change your life overnight, but it’ll settle into your bones quietly, sticking around longer than you expect. Funny enough, as I write this, I’m reminded of the title: Is The Outside Still There? Feels kinda fitting right now, doesn’t it? Like maybe the answer isn’t outside at all—it’s right here, in these songs.
