There's something distinctly special about Finland; most likely, its isolation. I can recall an informal interview with a member of Magyar Posse (Pori based instrumental troupe) where I questioned the band's ambitions concerning their nationally acclaimed status and desire to expand globally. I suspected that further domination of Europe and the world at large were next, so I was quite surprised when it was reported that the band was content with their current situation. Really, just making music that they and their friends would be interested in -- self-satisfying in that regard. Of course, this isn't a rare response, just about every band on the planet  will front humility while hiding delusions of grandeur, but there was a sincerity behind the answer that was impossible to deny.

After elaborating on the topic, it became clear that this was just the circumstances under which the band had come into existence, and, more generally, what artists in Finland must come to accept. With a population of only 5.3 million, Finland is not a dominant commercial market. Even reaching gold status in Finland (selling 15,000 albums) does not generate a large chunk of change once all the middle men take out their piece and the remainder is divided up amongst the band. By comparison, an artist has to sell 500,000 albums in the US to make it to gold, at which case they've already created millions of dollars of revenue in sales alone. So, the thinking goes -- if American instrumental bands can't even sell more than a few thousand copies in the US, with a much larger consumer pool, is the chance any better for a Finnish act? And, sadly, the story is no less depressing in mainland Europe. At that point, there's really no other option than to make music you enjoy, because most everyone else isn't even going to get the chance to listen, let alone enjoy it. Self-satisfaction it is.

It's important to recognize that this isn't the pretentious form of self-satisfaction where artists are so disgusted by the music being created all around them that they turn thmselves inward. No, it's quite the opposite. The world is somehow detached from the type of music they create, so the only thing left to do is make music that the artist is personally happy with. These artists operate in a realm of neglect, and even though the power of the Internet has broken down the global barriers a little, I still don't see many non-English speaking artists bringing home cash by the truckload.

Enter Hannu, a Helsinki based artist who practices the arts of music, film, and photography (Sorry ladies, no dancing or cooking...yet). Worms in My Piano is his debut album, released earlier this year on Osaka Recordings. On the surface Hannu appears to be a trendy electronic artist who's digging into the minimal/classical/folk ground that every other solo musician is trying to carve a piece of these days. But, as trends go, most of what happens in that circuit is a direct response from one big release to the next, and Hannu is content to function on a parallel plane and create, you guessed it, music that he's content to listen to. But what exactly does this sound like?

I'll bypass all metaphorical imagery that Worms in My Piano may conjure; Hannu can do it much better than myself. I do find the album to be robustly playful. Among other tools, electronic artists generally define themselves by whether or not they actively work with melody. Be it overtly or not, much created in the electronic realm is still melodic, as that what our ears like to hear. Those who team up with dissonance have a tougher task, though there certainly is something inherently interesting about music which completely avoids standard melody from the beginning. Hannu's goal is then to engage these two forces, both the melodic and the dissonant, and paint his landscape equally from both palettes. Throw in other conventions like texture, tonality, and more post-production than we know what to do with, and Worms in My Piano is shaping up to be a charming little CD.

The balance between experimentalism and solid substance is wonderfully achieved, and shall be heralded by fans of Colleen, Helios, and Taylor Deupree. Tracks duly take on their own identity, each drawing from electronic, classical, and folk sounds to tie together the album's larger themes. Picking a favorite from the group is like picking a favorite child; all are special in their own unique way. Discovering the personality of each piece is a joy in itself, and even though much of the work could be accurately accused of being ambient, it resists the urge to drag itself into the melancholy moods which the genre associates itself with. Emotions are relatively upbeat, almost happy, though done with such intense subtlety that it's quite expected that the listener will miss this aspect all together.

For those willing to lose themselves in the album, Worms in My Piano is thoroughly enchanting, and maybe even enthralling. Countless hours can be spent exploring the interior of Hannu's world, and although it looks bleak on the outside, the surprise is that it's actually a lot brighter and warmer than we initially expected.  In a perfect world, this would already be gold.

-Jordan Volz