
The Minnesota-based Finnish-American instrumental folk duo Kaivama - performing at the River Music Experience on March 10 - has been around for less than two years, and multi-instrumentalist Jonathan Rundman acknowledges that "the whole band has kind of happened in reverse. We got a gig before we existed as a group. So we had to form the band in order to play the gig."
And its self-titled debut album came out less than a year after the group's genesis - before it had even toured.
Rundman attributes this to demand. The Finnish-American population, he said in a phone interview last month, is small but active, and that audience frankly doesn't have many options when it comes to traditional music from its ancestral home."It's a niche," he said. "We're some of the only choices they have as far as that goes.
"But apart from the demographics, I think it's because Nordic music is really beautiful. I don't say that because we're such a great band; I say that because ... it's just beautiful music. ... It's just undeniably gorgeous music. ... The raw material is wonderful."
He's right, but also too modest. With roughly the same number of traditional tunes and originals, Kaivama is expertly poised between the old and new - aged melodies adorned by modern flourishes. A warm, jaunty keyboard, for example, matches Sara Pajunen's coolly nimble fiddle on opening track "Schottische 150."

For Wet Hair singer and keyboardist Shawn Reed, being experimental is the only thing he can do. "Unless it's weird and challenging, I'm just bored with it," he said in a phone interview this week. "It just doesn't feel important to me."


Paris Suit Yourself, "Sometimes." From the flat, stuttering riff to the woodblock accents to the falsetto vocals, this one plays a bit like a parody of Queens of the Stone Age, which itself has occasionally seemed like a parody. But as I've long said about the songs of Spinal Tap: There are a lot of bands that would be proud to have made "Big Bottom" and "Stonehenge." It's such a fine line between stupid and clever, and even when you're on the wrong side, sometimes it works.
Hella, "Self Checkout." Back in 2005, I described the guitar-and-drums duo Hella as a "spastic, manic, lightning-speed instrumental racket, equal parts math rock and free jazz, calculation and improvisation ... . It's strange and arresting, and - shockingly - instantly accessible if you keep your mind and ears open." Thankfully, not much has changed. The secret of Hella generally and "Self Checkout" in particular is its violent lyricism - the feelings and wordless narrative crafted in the context of the din. As you might expect, there's anger and frustration, but joy sneaks through; you can almost feel the exuberance of creation and the rush of nailing it.







