Album Review: I Mitt Hjertes Femte Kammer by Øyvind Sund
Let’s talk about a hidden gem from Norway that deserves way more attention than it gets. Øyvind Sund’s I Mitt Hjertes Femte Kammer, released back in 1978, is one of those albums you stumble upon and think, "How did I not know this existed?" It’s folk, blues, and world music all rolled into one—a little bit raw, deeply emotional, and kinda timeless. Produced by Per Hommelhaug and recorded with some serious care (shoutout to technicians Christian Schreiner and Rune Nordal), this record feels like a warm hug on a cold Nordic night.
The album has thirteen tracks, but two stand out for me every time I listen to it: "Bakklandet Blues" and "Ditt Hjertes Femtes Kammer." Let me tell ya why they stick in my head.
First off, "Bakklandet Blues" hits hard because it’s so simple yet so effective. You’ve got Øyvind strumming his guitar with this steady rhythm, almost like he’s sitting right there across from you, telling his story. His voice isn’t perfect—it cracks here and there—but that’s what makes it feel real. The lyrics are poetic without being pretentious, painting pictures of everyday life in a way that just clicks. By the end of the song, you’re nodding along, thinking, “Yeah, I get it.”
Then there’s "Ditt Hjertes Femtes Kammer," which closes the album. This track feels like Øyvind poured everything he had left into it. There’s a haunting quality to the melody, and when he sings about love and longing, it’s like he’s whispering secrets meant only for you. It’s slow, deliberate, and honestly? It leaves me feeling a little undone every time. Like, wow, man, how do you even recover after something like that?
What’s wild is how personal this whole album feels. Øyvind wrote the texts himself, arranged the songs, played guitar, sang—all of it. It’s basically him saying, “Here’s my heart; take it or leave it.” And honestly? I’m taking it. Every single note.
Listening to I Mitt Hjertes Femte Kammer feels like stepping into another era—an analog world where music wasn’t polished to death but instead carried the fingerprints of its creator. There’s something comforting about that. Plus, knowing it came out under Arctic Records gives it this scrappy underdog vibe that makes me root for it even harder.
So yeah, if you’re into folk or blues—or just good storytelling wrapped up in sound—track down this album. It might not be flashy, but trust me, it’ll stay with you long after the last note fades. Oh, and hey, fun fact: Øyvind Sund sounds kinda like someone your grandpa would’ve listened to while fixing fences or sipping coffee. Weirdly enough, that’s exactly the kind of charm this album brings to the table.
