Or: Not Every Album Has to Rearrange Your Organs to Be Worth Your Time
Let’s get one thing straight—I have history with this band.
Not the kind that ends in restraining orders or emotional trauma (for once), but the kind where you stumble into a gig expecting absolutely nothing—and walk out with a patch for your battle vest and a mild case of obsession.
Remember that Finntroll tour I covered in Bremen last year?
(You can read the report over on Stormbringer.at, if you want the full chaotic rundown.)
Suotana were the first of two support bands that night. And going in, I’d done my homework — because unlike 90% of the audience, I wasn’t just there to drink lukewarm beer and wait for the headliner. I’d binged their back catalogue, taken notes, nodded appreciatively at all the right moments.
But live?
Whole different beast.
You know that thing where you walk into a venue and mentally prepare yourself to tolerate the support acts while you stare at the stage like it owes you rent?
Yeah. Suotana were not that band
They stepped on stage to a half-empty venue and still played like they were headlining their own frozen kingdom. Tight. Confident. No filler, no fumbles.
I bought a patch the next day.
They dropped Ounas I in 2023—and listen, if you slap a Roman numeral on an album I actually like?
You bet your ass I’m waiting for part two.
And now it’s here.
Ounas II – The Epic Sequel
Seven tracks. Thirty-nine minutes.
And before you even start—yes. That includes an instrumental intro. And a cover.
And it is fucking fine. Sit down.
Let’s just get this out of the way, yeah?
This whole "oh no, it’s only 30 minutes of original material" thing is one of the most boring, exhausted takes in metal music discourse. Not every album has to be a 72-minute lore dump with ten interludes and a four-part suite about a cursed forest god.
Sometimes?
You write five very good songs. You record them well. You release the record. Done.
No, Ounas II isn’t pushing the boundaries of length or format—and it doesn’t have to.
What it does have is clarity. Focus. No bloat, no filler, no patience for mediocrity.
Five original tracks. All killer. No fluff.
That’s not a shortcoming.
That’s a statement.
The Flood – Scene-Setting Score Shit
It opens like a film score. A three-minute instrumental, all synths, strange textures, and that kind of creeping, urgent drumming that makes you sit up a little straighter.
It doesn’t build tension—it draws a map.
You’re somewhere vast. Remote. A little haunted.
It’s not subtle. It’s not trying to be.
It’s here to set the stage—and it works.
Foreverland – Melodeath 101
Foreverland is—melodeath.
Straightforward. Unpretentious.
And that’s not a dig.
It follows the formula—and executes it cleanly.
Which, frankly, is more than most bands manage when they try to get clever.
Foreverland blends soaring riffs, snarled vocals, subtle synth work, and tight pacing—all the ingredients you’d expect.
But it’s the balance that stands out.
This track leans into the same hybrid territory that made Children of Bodom so ridiculously effective—that precise mix of melodic death, blackened edge, and power metal flash.
It’s a tricky line to walk without collapsing into chaos or cheese, and Suotana walk it with ease.
The power metal influence is there, sure—in the melodies, the energy, the drive—but mercifully, not in the vocals.
No falsetto heroics here. Just snarls and growls that sound like they belong.
And when the guitar solo hits, mirrored by the keyboards? It’s not a duel. It’s not a gimmick.
It’s two musicians flexing in sync—and it absolutely works.
Winter Visions – The Dancefloor Melodeath Anthem
This one? Slaps.
My favourite.
It is even more upbeat—but somehow, less playful.
The riffs are cleaner. The melodies sharper. The whole thing runs on pure melodic guitar wizardry.
It’s melodeath boiled down to its most effective elements.
You either love it (I do), or you roll your eyes and pretend you're above it.
But there’s no shame here. This track knows exactly what it is and refuses to apologise.
The vocals hit that perfect combo—snarl up front, low growl underneath, just enough layering to keep things interesting without getting theatrical.
And then there’s the keyboard solo (skip to 2:10 if you must).
It’s unhinged. Ridiculous. Perfect.
They go all out—and the result is, bizarrely, danceable.
Not in a club way. In a "melodeath purists are already angry and that’s fine" way.
Twilight Stream & The Crowned King of Ancient Forest
Twilight Stream doesn’t break any new ground, but it doesn’t need to. It’s melodic, uplifting, and keeps the momentum going. No real surprises—just a well-paced, well-executed track that earns its place on the album.
The Crowned King of Ancient Forest leans heavier—both in tone and in the riffing. There’s a more classic heavy metal flavour here, stripped of the usual melodic flourishes. The vocals dip into Finnish, which adds exactly the kind of guttural bite you’d expect.
No one snarls quite like a Finn—there’s a particular kind of grovelling menace to it, and I’m entirely on board.
At first, it feels more condensed. Tighter. More riff-driven over tight blastbeats, fewer theatrics.
And then the middle section arrives, and it goes full melodic again. Of course it does. The guitar solos its heart out, and by the end, the guitars and vocals are locked into the same line, charging forward in perfect unison.
It’s not flashy. But it works.
It does the job.
It keeps you moving.
1473 Ounas – Yes, It’s An Actual Asteroid
The last album, Ounas I, ended with the epic track River Ounas.
So it’s nothing if not thorough that Suotana now follow up Ounas II with another 10-minute closer: 1473 Ounas.
Here’s a fun fact you didn’t ask for and I didn’t want.
1473 Ounas? It’s an asteroid. Discovered in 1938 by a Finnish astronomer, named after the Ounas river.
Stony. Slow-rotating. Suspected tumbler.
(Which, frankly, also describes me before my morning coffee.)
So, yeah. Space lore.
Anyway.
The track itself? Massive.
A swirling storm of melody and atmosphere. The guitars and keyboards weave in and out of each other—not battling, just feeding off each other, layering tension and lift. Everything’s paced deliberately, almost cautiously, until it drifts into the middle section—airy, cinematic, somewhere between introspection and weather report.
And then, right on cue: Zoe Marie Federoff-Šmerda—Cradle of Filth's very own.
Well. Not anymore. [Coincidence?!]
Her vocals glide in like a final act reveal—operatic, crystalline, unshakably confident.
She doesn’t take over the song—she elevates it.
Cranks the drama up without breaking it.
Suddenly everything feels bigger. Broader. Earned.
The track fades out in choirs and you think, ah, we’re done.
Except no.
Hatebreeder (CoB Cover) – Calm Down.
Instead of floating off into the frostbitten night on a bed of ethereal harmonies, Suotana come back in swinging—with a Children of Bodom cover.
And not just any cover.
Hatebreeder.
1999. Iconic. Ferocious.
You know it. You love it.
And apparently, that’s controversial.
Some reviewers would’ve preferred the album end on the "epic" original. Some think putting a cover at the end is some kind of cop-out.
To which I say: calm the fuck down.
Can we please stop pretending that ending an album with a cover is some unforgivable sin?
Suotana already did this on Ounas I—they closed it with a gorgeous, icy cover of Summoning's Land of the Dead.
It made sense. It fit the mood. And it showed range.
And now, on Ounas II, they do it again—this time with Hatebreeder.
One of the most iconic melodic death metal tracks of all time. A foundational influence.
A declaration, really.
Not only does it make sense—it’s honest. It’s a clear nod to their roots, their inspirations, their place in the genre.
And here’s the kicker: they nail it.
If the cover sucked, sure—critique away. But it doesn’t.
It works. It fits.
It’s a thank you.
It’s a nod.
It’s a fucking banger.
So if your biggest issue with this album is that it dares to end with a CoB cover instead of an eleven-minute glacial outro about ice giants—maybe you should stop treating every album like it owes you a Wintersun sequel.
Final Diagnosis: Satisfied, Slightly More Heroic Than Before
Alright. Sorry. Got a bit carried away there.
What I actually want to say is:
Is Ounas II breaking new ground?
No.
Is it going to rearrange your understanding of melodic death metal?
Also no.
But here’s the thing:
Not every album has to change your life.
Some albums just have to make your day better.
Make your commute feel like a quest.
Make your coffee run feel like a charge into battle.
Make you walk with just a little more bounce in your boots.
And this one?
Absolutely nails it.
You’ll hit the end of those 39 minutes with a grin on your face and frost in your lungs.
Because sometimes, good execution is all you need.
So.
Not life-altering.
Just life-enhancing.
And honestly?
That’s more rare than you think.