Eleanoora Rosenholm

Eleanoora Rosenholm are fish out of water. They make music that’s chirpy pop, martial themes for twee armies, kids tv show themes and death disco on a label known for being a documenter of Finlands ethereal folks. They are also a seven piece band using an individual moniker taken from a Finnish female serial killer whose suicide note (possibly never made) appears on their website.

Their first record from this year was generally well received as a slick, pop record in the mould of someone like Roisin Murphy. “Älä kysy..” still contains the touches of ice cold synth that gives the impression of the classier end of Euro pop but it also contains an odd mix of marching band rhythms and session muso licks. Case in point is the records high point “Bolly palkkionmetsastaja”. It starts like the guitar intro on “Welcome to the Jungle” jamming with Gary Numans android synths. Noora Tommilas vocals sound like orders issued through a loudspeaker and they are joined by some of the biggest, cleanest, most shameless drums ever heard on Fonal records (I would bet serious money on that being true.) It ends with these back up vocals that I can only compare to the backup vocals on “Hooked on a feeling.” Such a description may cause many of you to run miles away from this and this is pretty distant from the music tastes of most Foxy Digitalis readers but I came away from this listening experience baffled, challenged and amused. Mission Accomplished. 7/10 -- Alex Kakafikas - Foxy Digitalis

Eleanoora Rosenholm are fish out of water. They make music that’s chirpy pop, martial themes for twee armies, kids tv show themes and death disco on a label known for being a documenter of Finlands ethereal folks. They are also a seven piece band using an individual moniker taken from a Finnish female serial killer whose suicide note (possibly never made) appears on their website.

Their first record from this year was generally well received as a slick, pop record in the mould of someone like Roisin Murphy. “Älä kysy..” still contains the touches of ice cold synth that gives the impression of the classier end of Euro pop but it also contains an odd mix of marching band rhythms and session muso licks. Case in point is the records high point “Bolly palkkionmetsastaja”. It starts like the guitar intro on “Welcome to the Jungle” jamming with Gary Numans android synths. Noora Tommilas vocals sound like orders issued through a loudspeaker and they are joined by some of the biggest, cleanest, most shameless drums ever heard on Fonal records (I would bet serious money on that being true.) It ends with these back up vocals that I can only compare to the backup vocals on “Hooked on a feeling.” Such a description may cause many of you to run miles away from this and this is pretty distant from the music tastes of most Foxy Digitalis readers but I came away from this listening experience baffled, challenged and amused. Mission Accomplished. 7/10 -- Alex Kakafikas - Foxy Digitalis

Pop ambition in this country tends to make us think of things like Madonna’s revolving personae, T.I.’s conflation of riches and romance, or Kanye West pretty much every time he opens his mouth. For ambition in pop as an art form, though, try wrapping your head around Finland’s Eleanoora Rosenholm, an octet fronted by the brilliant singer Noora Tommila. Her plainly pretty vocals—the only thing this band offers that is the least bit plain—and eerily earnest diction (in Finnish) are at the core of the group’s hysterically kaleidoscopic pop on this, its second album.

These nine meticulously composed songs sound like otherdimensional Eurovision entries from nine different countries in as many eras. Arch dance beats, strident orchestrations, even elements inspired by musique concrète: At various moments, Eleanoora Rosenholm can sound like a campy Russian military band, cockeyed Vangelis acolytes or overcaffeinated goth-disco kids who haven’t heard anything new since 1983.

Yet for all its unpredictable turns, this music is deliriously listenable, as in “Ambulanssikuskitar,” with Tommila striking ecstatic pop gold by chanting through synthetic sirens and massed male choruses. (The song gets more ecstatic, and comically morbid, in video form, viewable at fonal.com.) The only drawback to this album is a slight one: Much of it finds the band favoring darker cinematic moods over the somewhat lighter sounds of its debut, Vainajan Muotokuva. Cautious ears might start there, but by all means, do start.

- Mike Wolf
- Time Out NY

Pop ambition in this country tends to make us think of things like Madonna’s revolving personae, T.I.’s conflation of riches and romance, or Kanye West pretty much every time he opens his mouth. For ambition in pop as an art form, though, try wrapping your head around Finland’s Eleanoora Rosenholm, an octet fronted by the brilliant singer Noora Tommila. Her plainly pretty vocals—the only thing this band offers that is the least bit plain—and eerily earnest diction (in Finnish) are at the core of the group’s hysterically kaleidoscopic pop on this, its second album.

These nine meticulously composed songs sound like otherdimensional Eurovision entries from nine different countries in as many eras. Arch dance beats, strident orchestrations, even elements inspired by musique concrète: At various moments, Eleanoora Rosenholm can sound like a campy Russian military band, cockeyed Vangelis acolytes or overcaffeinated goth-disco kids who haven’t heard anything new since 1983.

Yet for all its unpredictable turns, this music is deliriously listenable, as in “Ambulanssikuskitar,” with Tommila striking ecstatic pop gold by chanting through synthetic sirens and massed male choruses. (The song gets more ecstatic, and comically morbid, in video form, viewable at fonal.com.) The only drawback to this album is a slight one: Much of it finds the band favoring darker cinematic moods over the somewhat lighter sounds of its debut, Vainajan Muotokuva. Cautious ears might start there, but by all means, do start.

- Mike Wolf
- Time Out NY

The flipside of all the gnomes is darkness – monsters, hauntings, Beowulf. Scandinavian music in recent times has been all chirp, but Finland has stayed relatively out of the discussion. There’s a strong tradition over there of the (relatively marginalized) genre of death metal, true. But the country has been largely absent from the discussion of Scandinavian music over the past few years. In the background, quietly, the label Fonal has been putting out ascetic and challenging records by artists like Paavoharju and Shogun Kunitoki. That label and the country’s indie profile should rise somewhat among those who hear this new group, Eleanoora Rosenholm.

Eleanoora Rosenholm isn’t a single woman, but the name of a Finnish collective of musicians who have come together from various individual pursuits and made a record for Fonal that’s dark enough to perfectly accompany their namesake’s perhaps made-up 1959 suicide note (archived at their website). Does this make Vainajan Muotokuva a “suicide concept album”? Not being a Finnish speaker, I can’t really say. Ether way, there’s enough Gothic romanticism offered here to justify the thought.

But the story’s a bit more interesting than that, because Eleanoora Rosenholm aren’t really making outsider music. Vainajan Muotokuvais basically a lush art pop/disco album that recalls Shara Worden’s work as My Brightest Diamond. Singer Noora Tommila delivers her words with a lack of demonstrative emotion. Whether this comes across as innocent or eerie depends on your own point of view. But it certainly makes for a refreshing sound. The vocals are consistently placed far forward in the mix, and generally dominate Eleanoora Rosenholm’s sound, further arguing for the group’s pop orientation. In this context, even the unfamiliar, consonant-heavy Finnish language becomes an addictive confection.

Because the MOA is art pop, really, the drifting off into atmospheric string arrangements is par for the course. The wide variety of textures and influences is to the album’s credit. From tribal, Hercules & Love Affair-esque beats to Bjorkian swoons to Roisin Murphy-style vocal affect, Eleanoora Rosenholm prove themselves much more than a quirky novelty. Once, on “Kiltti Vai Tuhma”, the atmosphere turns J-pop, and could be the soundtrack to a Miyazaki film-closing montage.

A pair of songs at each end of the album paint Eleanoora Rosenholm’s style in irresistible relief. “Musta Ruusu” could be informed by the stylistic restlessness of Architecture in Helsinki, wrapped up in artful ghost stories and nightmare visions. The track opens all unsettled, huffing electro-cascade, relaxes into an acoustic folk song, and ends with lush electronic pop, laced with strings. Closer “Maailmanloppu”, which according to one translation is a vast annihilation fantasy, lays its sparkling melody over rattling, trotted-out percussion. The video shows singer Tommila disposing of the severed head of a murdered lover, while snow falls across her face.

Maybe it is the very foreign sound of the Finnish language that contributes to the overall charm of Vainajan Muotokuva, but the truth is that the album would be outstanding in any language. Further, you don’t need to be into the abstract experimentation of other Fonal artists to be won over by the romanticism and dark disco winding easily around these songs. If you’re feeling in the mood for something a little different, take a listen – this remarkable album deserves to be heard. - PopMatters

The flipside of all the gnomes is darkness – monsters, hauntings, Beowulf. Scandinavian music in recent times has been all chirp, but Finland has stayed relatively out of the discussion. There’s a strong tradition over there of the (relatively marginalized) genre of death metal, true. But the country has been largely absent from the discussion of Scandinavian music over the past few years. In the background, quietly, the label Fonal has been putting out ascetic and challenging records by artists like Paavoharju and Shogun Kunitoki. That label and the country’s indie profile should rise somewhat among those who hear this new group, Eleanoora Rosenholm.

Eleanoora Rosenholm isn’t a single woman, but the name of a Finnish collective of musicians who have come together from various individual pursuits and made a record for Fonal that’s dark enough to perfectly accompany their namesake’s perhaps made-up 1959 suicide note (archived at their website). Does this make Vainajan Muotokuva a “suicide concept album”? Not being a Finnish speaker, I can’t really say. Ether way, there’s enough Gothic romanticism offered here to justify the thought.

But the story’s a bit more interesting than that, because Eleanoora Rosenholm aren’t really making outsider music. Vainajan Muotokuvais basically a lush art pop/disco album that recalls Shara Worden’s work as My Brightest Diamond. Singer Noora Tommila delivers her words with a lack of demonstrative emotion. Whether this comes across as innocent or eerie depends on your own point of view. But it certainly makes for a refreshing sound. The vocals are consistently placed far forward in the mix, and generally dominate Eleanoora Rosenholm’s sound, further arguing for the group’s pop orientation. In this context, even the unfamiliar, consonant-heavy Finnish language becomes an addictive confection.

Because the MOA is art pop, really, the drifting off into atmospheric string arrangements is par for the course. The wide variety of textures and influences is to the album’s credit. From tribal, Hercules & Love Affair-esque beats to Bjorkian swoons to Roisin Murphy-style vocal affect, Eleanoora Rosenholm prove themselves much more than a quirky novelty. Once, on “Kiltti Vai Tuhma”, the atmosphere turns J-pop, and could be the soundtrack to a Miyazaki film-closing montage.

A pair of songs at each end of the album paint Eleanoora Rosenholm’s style in irresistible relief. “Musta Ruusu” could be informed by the stylistic restlessness of Architecture in Helsinki, wrapped up in artful ghost stories and nightmare visions. The track opens all unsettled, huffing electro-cascade, relaxes into an acoustic folk song, and ends with lush electronic pop, laced with strings. Closer “Maailmanloppu”, which according to one translation is a vast annihilation fantasy, lays its sparkling melody over rattling, trotted-out percussion. The video shows singer Tommila disposing of the severed head of a murdered lover, while snow falls across her face.

Maybe it is the very foreign sound of the Finnish language that contributes to the overall charm of Vainajan Muotokuva, but the truth is that the album would be outstanding in any language. Further, you don’t need to be into the abstract experimentation of other Fonal artists to be won over by the romanticism and dark disco winding easily around these songs. If you’re feeling in the mood for something a little different, take a listen – this remarkable album deserves to be heard. - PopMatters

The Finnish language falls under the Finno-Ugric family and resembles closely fellow Eastern European languages such as Hungarian and Estonian. The language features vowel harmony and over 14 grammatical cases. Consonant clusters are rare and tongue-rolling is moderate. The origin of such long words has been attributed to the comparatively slow evolution from its proto-Uralian origins thousands of years ago.

I give this reductive linguistic lesson as an introduction because Eleanoora Rosenholm does no explaining on its first album, Vainajan Muotokuva (released in Finland on Fonal last year). The packaging for the album is entirely in Finnish, and all nine songs are in the group’s native tongue. There are no liner notes save for who plays in the group, and information on their website is limited. The language barrier is distracting for non-Finnish speakers in that you wouldn’t immediately guess this is allegedly about the 1959 suicide of a woman whom the band takes its name from. Though moody pieces such as “Ovet Ja Huoneet” are present, there is enough indie-pop bounce to give this record a conflicted feel. Without calling into question whether or not Rosenholm was even a real person, perhaps the aim of both the band and the record was to evoke musically what she was feeling before she passed.

It would be unfair and not a little xenophobic to hold the language barrier against the group (especially as Fonal has never made any special effort for non-Finns), so enjoying Nora Tommila’s gentle vocals as another layer in the instrumentation is more reasonable; hearing her sing is just as captivating as knowing what she’s singing about (which you can do on their site for the closer “Maailmanloppu,” or “End of the World”). Tommila’s smooth, low-pitched delivery is frequently tracked with accompaniment and can range from clearly enunciated rhymes to otherworldly ambiance. What binds all of her performances together is that she is right at the front of each mix. This is why it’s easy to confuse Tommila for Eleanoora Rosenholm without reading a biography.

For their part, Pasi Salmi and Mika Rättö keep shifting the music behind Tommila as the record unfurls. Disco is a recurring description of this record’s sound, and you can hear the ethereal Italo creep into the chorus of “Kopiokissa.” But that same song is as prone to late-’60s orchestral pop as it is Moroder. The ascending synth line on opener “Musta Rusuu” is an addictive hook, but “Kiltti Vai Tuhma” is the most obvious indie-pop offender with its childlike melody, chorus and brevity. The diversions are intriguing – “Kodinrakennusohjeet” is the highlight with its tribal trashcan polyrhythms – but no matter how dark or danceable its veneer, Vainajan Muotokuva is still a pop record at heart.

Along with Ville Leinonen, Vainajan Muotokuva marks a diversion from Fonal’s free-folk template. Though they are part of a diligent network of Finnish musicians, Eleanoora Rosenholm has taken on directly the vakava (serious) spirit that fellow Finns like Isalja and Kemialliset Ystävät have been avoiding, and succeed even if they don’t completely sell the concept behind it. Put another way: Listening to this album is way more enjoyable than trying to find information about it.

By Patrick Masterson - Dusted

The Finnish language falls under the Finno-Ugric family and resembles closely fellow Eastern European languages such as Hungarian and Estonian. The language features vowel harmony and over 14 grammatical cases. Consonant clusters are rare and tongue-rolling is moderate. The origin of such long words has been attributed to the comparatively slow evolution from its proto-Uralian origins thousands of years ago.

I give this reductive linguistic lesson as an introduction because Eleanoora Rosenholm does no explaining on its first album, Vainajan Muotokuva (released in Finland on Fonal last year). The packaging for the album is entirely in Finnish, and all nine songs are in the group’s native tongue. There are no liner notes save for who plays in the group, and information on their website is limited. The language barrier is distracting for non-Finnish speakers in that you wouldn’t immediately guess this is allegedly about the 1959 suicide of a woman whom the band takes its name from. Though moody pieces such as “Ovet Ja Huoneet” are present, there is enough indie-pop bounce to give this record a conflicted feel. Without calling into question whether or not Rosenholm was even a real person, perhaps the aim of both the band and the record was to evoke musically what she was feeling before she passed.

It would be unfair and not a little xenophobic to hold the language barrier against the group (especially as Fonal has never made any special effort for non-Finns), so enjoying Nora Tommila’s gentle vocals as another layer in the instrumentation is more reasonable; hearing her sing is just as captivating as knowing what she’s singing about (which you can do on their site for the closer “Maailmanloppu,” or “End of the World”). Tommila’s smooth, low-pitched delivery is frequently tracked with accompaniment and can range from clearly enunciated rhymes to otherworldly ambiance. What binds all of her performances together is that she is right at the front of each mix. This is why it’s easy to confuse Tommila for Eleanoora Rosenholm without reading a biography.

For their part, Pasi Salmi and Mika Rättö keep shifting the music behind Tommila as the record unfurls. Disco is a recurring description of this record’s sound, and you can hear the ethereal Italo creep into the chorus of “Kopiokissa.” But that same song is as prone to late-’60s orchestral pop as it is Moroder. The ascending synth line on opener “Musta Rusuu” is an addictive hook, but “Kiltti Vai Tuhma” is the most obvious indie-pop offender with its childlike melody, chorus and brevity. The diversions are intriguing – “Kodinrakennusohjeet” is the highlight with its tribal trashcan polyrhythms – but no matter how dark or danceable its veneer, Vainajan Muotokuva is still a pop record at heart.

Along with Ville Leinonen, Vainajan Muotokuva marks a diversion from Fonal’s free-folk template. Though they are part of a diligent network of Finnish musicians, Eleanoora Rosenholm has taken on directly the vakava (serious) spirit that fellow Finns like Isalja and Kemialliset Ystävät have been avoiding, and succeed even if they don’t completely sell the concept behind it. Put another way: Listening to this album is way more enjoyable than trying to find information about it.

By Patrick Masterson - Dusted

Only a few months ago, Finnish art/goth electronica group Eleanoora Rosenholm’s debut Vainajan Muotokuva found its way to the US. The album was released last year back in Finland, but even so, the celerity of follow-up (first the Tammen Varjossa EP, and now a sophomore full length) is remarkable—no sooner had we recovered from the dark, ambiguously enveloping foreign-language electropop of the first album, here’s Ala Kysy Kuolleilta, He Sanoivat, with more oppressive but enveloping soundscapes.

There’s still precious little to be gathered about the group itself by way of biography. If you don’t understand Finnish, again, you’ll have to be led by the sparse information on Fonal’s website and in various corners of the internet. The background the group provides, though, reads as disjointed and, frankly, disturbing: “The nun has been desecrated in the monastery and the school’s principal mutilated in the primary school’s woodshed.” The group takes this mythology of horror movies and death metal and applies it to electropop that approaches the Knife, but isn’t quite as singular of vision. And not just the mythology—the sudden clicks and fuzzy guitar squeal in “Epailen Sinua” actually made me look around behind me in alarm.

Though it can be off-putting to be thrown rudderless into this somewhat threatening sonic world, as on their debut, Eleanoora Rosenholm select some unexpectedly recognizable touchstones around which to construct their complex, engaging music. Despite its presumably oppressive subject matter, “Ambulanssikuskitar” begins with something of Kylie Minogue’s bright, straightforward electropop (there are “doo-doo-doo"s). “Tai-Panin Paholainen”, a highlight of the disc, weaves through its cello and warped folk-band vibe a straightforward vocal melody and “bom bom” a capella bassline that’s almost as jaunty as something by, say, Likke Li. Throughout, vocalist Eleanoora Rosenholm (a pseudonym) uses the explosive, pixie-esque vowels of the Finnish language to great effect—on “Pesulassa”, for example, they elevate the jaunty arpeggios of the melody into something more urgent and compelling.

In addition to the obvious dance-pop tropes of these songs, there’s a stronger element of twisted folklore and folk music running through Ala Kysy Kuolleilta, He Sanoivat than found on the debut. Swathes of cello, strings, and aching guitar interjections contribute to the full timbre of each tune. The album walks a fine line of atmospheric terror, only once slipping over it into cliché. That’s on “Bolly Palkkionmetsästäjä”, in which the brutish, treated male interjections seem more fake-metal than relentless viciousness. In fact, when Eleanoora Rosenholm are pairing high, Italo-style synths with their Gothic tales they are by far more effective. That there’s plenty of this on this album shows that the group is cognizant of this fact.

In the end, what makes Ala Kysy Kuolleilta, He Sanoivat at least as successful as the arresting first album is the consistency of the music. Eleanoora Rosenholm, from the opening notes through the haunting, balladic finale, transport you completely to an alternate world. Yes, it’s full of mürder, Ambulansses, Astronautti, and who knows what else, so you have to decide if you actually want to journey there. But if the quality and volume of this group’s output so far is an indication, Eleanoora Rosenholm should be creating the soundtrack for that voyage whenever you feel like taking it. - PopMatters

Only a few months ago, Finnish art/goth electronica group Eleanoora Rosenholm’s debut Vainajan Muotokuva found its way to the US. The album was released last year back in Finland, but even so, the celerity of follow-up (first the Tammen Varjossa EP, and now a sophomore full length) is remarkable—no sooner had we recovered from the dark, ambiguously enveloping foreign-language electropop of the first album, here’s Ala Kysy Kuolleilta, He Sanoivat, with more oppressive but enveloping soundscapes.

There’s still precious little to be gathered about the group itself by way of biography. If you don’t understand Finnish, again, you’ll have to be led by the sparse information on Fonal’s website and in various corners of the internet. The background the group provides, though, reads as disjointed and, frankly, disturbing: “The nun has been desecrated in the monastery and the school’s principal mutilated in the primary school’s woodshed.” The group takes this mythology of horror movies and death metal and applies it to electropop that approaches the Knife, but isn’t quite as singular of vision. And not just the mythology—the sudden clicks and fuzzy guitar squeal in “Epailen Sinua” actually made me look around behind me in alarm.

Though it can be off-putting to be thrown rudderless into this somewhat threatening sonic world, as on their debut, Eleanoora Rosenholm select some unexpectedly recognizable touchstones around which to construct their complex, engaging music. Despite its presumably oppressive subject matter, “Ambulanssikuskitar” begins with something of Kylie Minogue’s bright, straightforward electropop (there are “doo-doo-doo"s). “Tai-Panin Paholainen”, a highlight of the disc, weaves through its cello and warped folk-band vibe a straightforward vocal melody and “bom bom” a capella bassline that’s almost as jaunty as something by, say, Likke Li. Throughout, vocalist Eleanoora Rosenholm (a pseudonym) uses the explosive, pixie-esque vowels of the Finnish language to great effect—on “Pesulassa”, for example, they elevate the jaunty arpeggios of the melody into something more urgent and compelling.

In addition to the obvious dance-pop tropes of these songs, there’s a stronger element of twisted folklore and folk music running through Ala Kysy Kuolleilta, He Sanoivat than found on the debut. Swathes of cello, strings, and aching guitar interjections contribute to the full timbre of each tune. The album walks a fine line of atmospheric terror, only once slipping over it into cliché. That’s on “Bolly Palkkionmetsästäjä”, in which the brutish, treated male interjections seem more fake-metal than relentless viciousness. In fact, when Eleanoora Rosenholm are pairing high, Italo-style synths with their Gothic tales they are by far more effective. That there’s plenty of this on this album shows that the group is cognizant of this fact.

In the end, what makes Ala Kysy Kuolleilta, He Sanoivat at least as successful as the arresting first album is the consistency of the music. Eleanoora Rosenholm, from the opening notes through the haunting, balladic finale, transport you completely to an alternate world. Yes, it’s full of mürder, Ambulansses, Astronautti, and who knows what else, so you have to decide if you actually want to journey there. But if the quality and volume of this group’s output so far is an indication, Eleanoora Rosenholm should be creating the soundtrack for that voyage whenever you feel like taking it. - PopMatters

Think you might've had Fonal's M.O. figured by now, didja? Fractal, often improvised electro-acoustic noise; shades of spirituality; collectives and excitable art-children. The Finnish label's new project, Eleanoora Rosenholm, shatters all of those preconceptions save the final one, as a trio of veterans and a handful of friends convene (even when taking a singular name and writing bizarre first-person Dear John letters, Finnish artists travel in packs) to craft an art-disco rollercoaster that defies much of the rest of the label's catalogue.

Vainajan Muotokuva opens with the attention-grabbing "Musta Ruusu", which immediately springs the album's unexpected list of touchstones: ABBA, Madonna, Kylie Minogue. Disco influences also abound and they are "Italo-" in as much as they are born from polished, attentive programming and not, say, funk or rock'n'roll. There is a tendency to mentally smooth over albums sung in foreign languages-- Noora Tommila's unfamiliar syllables, however clearly they are articulated, seem to come unlodged from her throat in indefinable clumps-- but it doesn't take long for Vainajan Muotokuva varied stylistic conceits to reveal themselves.

The rumbling bassline and slyly rhythmic chimes of "Kopiokissa" seemingly snuck out of Massive Attack's sequencers. The frantic kit-work and "bum bum buh buh"'s of "Kodinrakennusohjeet" expose krautrock roots. "Japanilainen Puutarha", which contorts around a click-clacking snare, monosyllabic guitar line, and woozy synths, is almost Timbalandian in the way its busyness rises from an economic arrangement. There's also "Pyhäpietarinaukio", which spends two minutes on an ambient think-piece more akin to Fonal's natural order, but its dark serenity explodes into "Kiltti Vai Tuhma", the most blatantly pop-baiting track on Vainajan Muotokuva (possibly in the Fonal universe). Burly closer "Maailmanloppu" steals the Transylvania-ian bells from the Smashing Pumpkins "Disarm" and rolls them into a jerky, stepping bassline, paving the way for a choir-like group chorus that stands as the most ostentatious moment on an album full of idiosyncrasies.

Despite the bands and styles cited above, Vainajan Muotokuva is only nominally a dance or disco album. At their most propulsive, during "Maailmanloppu", Eleanoora aren't going to move a lot of sneakers. Vainajan Muotokuva is a headspace tempest, but one that is distinctly foreign. Even as repeated listens uncover familiar modes and styles, Tommila's melodies remain windily Scandinavian. Any familiarity or placidity brought about by the influences in play here is frequently and probably intentionally interrupted by jarring, ill-fitted sound effects. Still, it is comforting to pronounce the album titles phonetically and to hear them repeated during the song-- as on "Musta Ruusu"-- because it reassures your brain that these are the type of songs-- pop songs-- in which the title is used as a refrain.

Vainajan Muotokuva, even when playing genre hopscotch, never feels like the work of a collective, but rather that of a vocalist and a particularly astute programmer, à la Giorgio Moroder or Maurice Fulton. These slight subversions of precedent help to define an otherwise slippery album: salty Euro-pop, shiftless disco, communal focus. Vainajan Muotokuva stands as an outlier for Fonal musically but it rather perfectly embodies the label's spirit of exploration.

— Andrew Gaerig, May 9, 2008 - Pitchfork

Think you might've had Fonal's M.O. figured by now, didja? Fractal, often improvised electro-acoustic noise; shades of spirituality; collectives and excitable art-children. The Finnish label's new project, Eleanoora Rosenholm, shatters all of those preconceptions save the final one, as a trio of veterans and a handful of friends convene (even when taking a singular name and writing bizarre first-person Dear John letters, Finnish artists travel in packs) to craft an art-disco rollercoaster that defies much of the rest of the label's catalogue.

Vainajan Muotokuva opens with the attention-grabbing "Musta Ruusu", which immediately springs the album's unexpected list of touchstones: ABBA, Madonna, Kylie Minogue. Disco influences also abound and they are "Italo-" in as much as they are born from polished, attentive programming and not, say, funk or rock'n'roll. There is a tendency to mentally smooth over albums sung in foreign languages-- Noora Tommila's unfamiliar syllables, however clearly they are articulated, seem to come unlodged from her throat in indefinable clumps-- but it doesn't take long for Vainajan Muotokuva varied stylistic conceits to reveal themselves.

The rumbling bassline and slyly rhythmic chimes of "Kopiokissa" seemingly snuck out of Massive Attack's sequencers. The frantic kit-work and "bum bum buh buh"'s of "Kodinrakennusohjeet" expose krautrock roots. "Japanilainen Puutarha", which contorts around a click-clacking snare, monosyllabic guitar line, and woozy synths, is almost Timbalandian in the way its busyness rises from an economic arrangement. There's also "Pyhäpietarinaukio", which spends two minutes on an ambient think-piece more akin to Fonal's natural order, but its dark serenity explodes into "Kiltti Vai Tuhma", the most blatantly pop-baiting track on Vainajan Muotokuva (possibly in the Fonal universe). Burly closer "Maailmanloppu" steals the Transylvania-ian bells from the Smashing Pumpkins "Disarm" and rolls them into a jerky, stepping bassline, paving the way for a choir-like group chorus that stands as the most ostentatious moment on an album full of idiosyncrasies.

Despite the bands and styles cited above, Vainajan Muotokuva is only nominally a dance or disco album. At their most propulsive, during "Maailmanloppu", Eleanoora aren't going to move a lot of sneakers. Vainajan Muotokuva is a headspace tempest, but one that is distinctly foreign. Even as repeated listens uncover familiar modes and styles, Tommila's melodies remain windily Scandinavian. Any familiarity or placidity brought about by the influences in play here is frequently and probably intentionally interrupted by jarring, ill-fitted sound effects. Still, it is comforting to pronounce the album titles phonetically and to hear them repeated during the song-- as on "Musta Ruusu"-- because it reassures your brain that these are the type of songs-- pop songs-- in which the title is used as a refrain.

Vainajan Muotokuva, even when playing genre hopscotch, never feels like the work of a collective, but rather that of a vocalist and a particularly astute programmer, à la Giorgio Moroder or Maurice Fulton. These slight subversions of precedent help to define an otherwise slippery album: salty Euro-pop, shiftless disco, communal focus. Vainajan Muotokuva stands as an outlier for Fonal musically but it rather perfectly embodies the label's spirit of exploration.

— Andrew Gaerig, May 9, 2008 - Pitchfork