Bloody Valkyria: In Our Home, Across The Fog – Album Review

23rd May 2025 0 By Jon Deaux

I don’t even remember how I found this damn album — maybe it found me, crawling out the chimney like a frostbitten cat with a vendetta and a sword. Bloody Valkyria’s “In Our Home, Across The Fog” (which sounds like a handwritten note left by a dying knight, if you ask me) is less of an album and more of a… what do you call it… a hex. A big, sprawling, melodic curse with blast beats and the smell of damp parchment.

A one-man band is always suspicious. Who does that? Who voluntarily plays every instrument and screams like a tortured banshee in their spare time? That’s not ambition, that’s a cry for help. And yet this fella’s not just making noise in his mum’s basement, no, sir. He’s out here summoning medieval grief storms like he’s got a direct line to some ancient, scowling war god. Probably wears a cloak to the supermarket. Legend.

The sound? Imagine you’re galloping blindfolded through a haunted forest on a horse that’s also depressed. There’s fog, there’s fire, and something’s sobbing in the distance — but in a beautiful way, you know? The guitars sound like someone lovingly sandpapering their own soul, the drums march like they’ve just been told they’ll never see their family again, and the vocals… hooo boy. Like a werewolf trying to recite poetry while being disemboweled by a ghost. But again, romantic, somehow.

At one point, I think I started crying, or sweating, it was hard to tell. I was halfway through track four (or maybe track six? Time stopped existing), and I swear I saw a vision of myself as a lonely old wizard standing on a cliff, wind howling, muttering about “the last flame.” I took a break and tried to pet my cat. He bit me. Deserved.

There’s this part in the middle — real slow, real mournful — where it felt like my bones remembering a past life. Possibly as a disgraced baron. Or a lantern. Who knows. Either way, it hit. I briefly considered texting my ex. Didn’t. Growth.

Now look, I’ve heard a lot of black metal. Some of it’s all tremolo and no trousers. But “In Our Home, Across The Fog” ? You can tell Jere Kervinen cares. You can hear it. You can smell it. There’s sweat in this thing. Tears. Possibly blood. Maybe all three mixed into a potion that gets poured over each track before release. That’s just good craftsmanship.

This isn’t for the casual listener. This is for the lunatics, the wounded romantics, the guys who still write poems on bar napkins and then set them on fire just to watch the ash dance. If you’ve ever stared into a candle for too long and whispered, “Take me back,” this one’s for you.

Play it loud. Play it alone. Maybe wear a cloak. Maybe don’t. But for god’s sake, feel it.
And if you start levitating, don’t panic. That’s normal. Probably.
Score 7/10

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