Skryt Skremsel by Vokalis: A Raw, Unfiltered Folk Riot from 1987
Let’s cut the crap. If you’re looking for polished production or trendy synth beats, Skryt Skremsel ain’t it. This Norwegian folk beast slaps harder than your drunk uncle at a barn dance—and that’s exactly why it rules. Released in 1987 on Vestkassett A/S, this album is pure grit and soul, with zero apologies. It’s like someone threw a bunch of traditional instruments into a blender and hit "puree." The result? Something chaotic, messy, unforgettable.
First off, props to the crew behind this madness. You’ve got Tom Karlsrud shredding the accordion like his life depends on it, Trond Osland pulling double duty on acoustic AND electric guitar (and somehow nailing both), Ragnar Sanden thumping the bass so hard he might as well be wrestling it, and Steinar Kvigne smashing drums and percussion like he’s trying to wake up the dead. Oh yeah, and Dag Endre Wolf sliding around on steel guitar like butter melting over pancakes. Producer Kristen Olav Grøttebø deserves a medal—or maybe just a stiff drink—for corralling all these wild talents into one cohesive record.
Now let’s talk tracks. I’ll spare you the full tracklist spiel because who cares? Instead, I’ll tell you about two songs that stuck in my brain like gum under a barstool.
“Panikken”: Holy hell, where do I even start? This tune hits like a freight train made of bad decisions. From the first note, the accordion grabs you by the throat and doesn’t let go. Then comes the percussion, pounding away like somebody’s knocking down a door. By the time the rest of the band kicks in, you’re already sweating bullets. It’s frantic, manic, borderline unhinged—and that’s what makes it genius. Every time I hear it, I feel like I’m running through a crowded market screaming “FIRE!” Whether that’s intentional or not, I dunno, but damn if it doesn’t work.
“Grannekoner”: Okay, this one’s slower, but don’t mistake slow for boring. Nope. This track sneaks up on you like an old lady whispering secrets at church. The acoustic guitar lays down this haunting melody while the steel guitar adds this eerie layer that feels like ghosts hovering nearby. And then there’s the vocals—raw, raspy, dripping with emotion. I swear, halfway through, I almost cried. Not sure if it was sadness, nostalgia, or just sheer confusion, but whatever it was, it stuck with me long after the song ended.
So yeah, Skryt Skremsel isn’t perfect. Some parts are rough around the edges, some transitions feel janky, and yeah, the mix could use a little love—but honestly? That’s what makes it special. It’s real. No filters, no gimmicks, no overproduced nonsense. Just a bunch of Norwegians pouring their hearts out in ways most bands wouldn’t dare.
And here’s the kicker: listening to this album feels like stepping back in time—not just to 1987, but way further. Like, Viking-era vibes. Maybe that’s why it lingers. Or maybe it’s just the accordion giving me PTSD. Either way, it’s worth a spin.
Final thought: If you ever meet Trond Osland, ask him how he managed to play guitar AND design the cover art without losing his mind. Dude’s either a genius or secretly powered by coffee and rage.
