Finnish all-girl group Indica was founded in 2001 by school-chums Jonsu (lead vocals, violin, guitar & keyboards) and Heini (bass & backing vox). Sirkku (keys & vocals,) Jenny (guitars & vocals) and Laura (drums) later joined the outfit. With two tours (with Nightwish) under their gold-plated belts, plus a horde of fast-selling discs (in Finland) as well as numerous accolades, the band are now considered to be highly successful constructors and contrivers of enjoyable, catchy easy-listening pop-rock.
In 2004 Indica released “Ikuinen virta” (The Eternal Stream) in Finnish – followed by a further three albums – all released in the Finnic language. But in 2010 Indica upped-their-game and released their first English language album titled ‘A Way Away’. This long-player was produced by Tuomas Holopainen (of Nightwish.) But, despite this good fortune and marvellous pedigree, the album was (in my opinion) poppy rather than gothic and treacly rather than metallic. Stand-out songs like “Children of Frost” had an almost Eurovision feel to them.
Now Indica have decided to release two near-identical albums – ‘Shine’ and ‘Akvaario’ – the same songs appear on both albums – but on ‘Shine’ the lyrics are all in English – on ‘Akvaario’ they are all in Finnish. I listened to the English language version:
The orchestration smoothly penetrates the opening track like misty rain through the walls of a soggy tent. The vocals on ‘Mountain Made Of Stone’ cling to the craggy rockfalls of guitar like damp mossy outcrops. The instrumentation is gritty and the rhythmic vocalizations are lush and moody.
‘Uncovered’ has slivers of mercurial piano accompaniment and a rattling beat. Then ‘A Definite Maybe’ has a latticework of lightly strummed acoustic guitar and Jonsu’s vocal that rises high like a salmon leaping in flume of glittering stars.
‘Goodbye To Berlin’ – with its synthy strings and poppy sentiment – reminded us of the Australian band the ‘Divinyls’ … it even has trussed-up Amphlett-style singing, together with the associated moody, dingy glamour.
‘Run Run’ is sluggish and mushy. ‘Here And Now’ is more sparkling. It’s like discovering crisp new snow that is slowly melting in the gladdening shard of new light. But it is not a song of any substance, and once the glitter wears off, you may feel that all you are left with is a mud pie of pulpy mash. The chanting ‘Missing’ track sounds properly like a 1980’s throwback – as if Jan Hammer had cooperated with Alannah Currie to make us some more jaunty, syrupy synth-pop.
The intro of ‘Hush Now Baby’ evokes memories of Nightwish. This is the most accomplished track on the album – smeared, smooth and wispy. It unfolds with coldness and flaps like a roll of silk abandoned on a forsaken ice sheet. It’s as rare as an endangered Saimaa seal on this collection … eking out an ice-age living among the scattered insubstantial flurries of sound and the worn-out feathery lyrical vapours that surround it.
‘A Kid In The Playground’ is surprisingly punky. Somewhere between ‘The Pretenders’ and ‘The Cars’. But it is as soft as dung and floats like tufts of cotton wool in the yellowing, stale air.
‘War Child’ completes the album. A shimmering dark sound judders across a moonlit landscape. The lead vocal plods like a lame wolverine caught in the morning light – desperate to get back to her cavern for safety.
The songs on this album are never dramatic or dark enough to increase your heart-rate or intensify your breathing. It’s a yielding, pappy collection of wafer-thin offerings. This could have been lyrical, dramatic and volatile. But, instead, it is pulpy and musically undemanding. It lacks any real substance.
