Wind Friends by Wind: A Psychedelic Rollercoaster That’ll Knock You Sideways
Alright, let’s get this straight—Wind Friends isn’t your average jazz-rock cocktail. This 2011 Norwegian monster from Syrin Vinyl is a wild ride through Psychedelic Rock and Free Improvisation that’ll leave you either breathless or scratching your head. And yeah, it’s messy as hell, but damn if it doesn’t stick to your ribs.
First off, the lineup reads like some avant-garde dream team: Per Christian Berg doing double duty on bass and guitar (show-off), Pål Stefan Brekke blowing flute like he’s summoning forest spirits, Filip Ramberg smashing drums like they owe him money, Ask Fredrik Berg laying down organ grooves so thick you could drown in ‘em, and Morten Smith Lien ripping saxophone lines that sound like they came out of nowhere. These guys aren’t just playing music—they’re wrestling with it.
Now, onto the tracks. Let’s talk about Sky Has No End. Holy crap, this thing hits hard. It starts with this lazy, almost stoner vibe—like the band’s just waking up—but then BAM! The sax comes screaming in like a banshee on steroids, and suddenly you’re not sure whether you’re at a rock concert or an exorcism. By the time the drums kick into full chaos mode, you’re either vibing hard or running for the door. I remember this track because it feels alive—it fights back. Every listen feels like catching lightning in a bottle.
Then there’s When The Waves Come Crashing In. If Sky Has No End is all manic energy, this one’s the opposite—a slow burn that sneaks up on you. The flute here? Unreal. Brekke makes it sound less like “hippie jam session” and more like “ancient Norse prophecy.” Halfway through, the whole thing explodes into this glorious mess of improvisation where nobody seems to give a damn about staying in sync. But weirdly enough, it works. Like, really works. You can practically smell the salty sea air while the band loses their minds in real-time. It’s haunting, chaotic, beautiful—a total gut punch.
This album ain’t perfect, though. Some parts feel like they go on forever, and if you’re not into free-form freakouts, you might lose patience. But honestly? That’s part of its charm. Wind Friends doesn’t care if you like it or not. It exists on its own terms, unapologetically raw and untamed.
Here’s the kicker: listening to this record feels like being invited to a secret party in the woods where everyone speaks a language you don’t understand—but somehow, you still have the best night of your life. Fucked up? Yeah. Memorable? Absolutely.
So, do yourself a favor. Grab a copy of Wind Friends, crank it loud, and let it mess with your head. Just don’t blame me if you start hearing saxophones in your sleep.
