the misdirection from the Lorde fans shuffling into the other side of Ally Pally, the venue’s high-ceilinged theatre room makes for an aweinspiring setting that belongs to another age. Rather fitting for Finland’s then, whose woozy pastoralism has been communing with the most consciousness-altering aspects of nature since long before the pagan folk scene exploded. Even at their most downcast, there’s a gradual magic at work, the 2am-ina-forgotten-tavern vibe of still quivering as if the mushrooms are just kicking in. Hexvesseland the sweat lodge rite of the closing rising to a final, room-filling chant invoking the most ancient and earthy of deities.
