Amorphis Stay the Course on ‘Borderland’ for Better or Worse

There’s a certain comfort that comes with a long, happy marriage. You come home to the same house, the same smell of your favorite meal permeating the rooms, the same dog wagging its tail in anticipation of a scratching session. There’s peace in routine. Predictability becomes its own kind of love language. 

But some nights, when the house is quiet and the day has been long, you can’t help but miss the sense of wonder. You think back to when it was all new, when sweat soaked your sheets, when you spent countless nights just talking and laughing, when everything felt like a risk worth taking.

Listening to Amorphis over the past two decades has felt a lot like that.

Since “Eclipse” in 2006, the band has settled into what many would call a golden era, refined, consistent, unmistakably them. But what’s wild is how “Eclipse” itself was once a turning point for a group that had already made a name out of shifting gears with every release in the ’90s. 

From death metal roots to psychedelic folk detours, Amorphis were masters of metamorphosis. And now? They’ve stayed in the same musical home for nearly 20 years. The furniture’s been rearranged and refurbished a few times, sure, but it’s still the same house.

That’s not inherently bad. But it’s okay to feel both grateful and a little restless. Because sometimes, even in the happiest of musical marriages, you find yourself wondering: when was the last time we did something… reckless?

In fact, it was the previous album, “Halo”, that felt like a genuine step in the right direction. It leaned into something more exploratory – proggier and at the same time heavier (or should I say death-ier), dusted with ‘70s textures, and just unpredictable enough to feel like the band was ready to push themselves again.

So when the buildup to “Borderland” began, it seemed like the stars were aligning for a bold new chapter, with a new producer in Jacob Hansen at the helm. But instead of doubling down on that momentum, the band retreated back into the familiar comfort of the path paved by “Eclipse” and “Silent Waters” down to the sound that feels calibrated to resemble those albums.

Take for example the opener, “The Circle” or the single “Dancing Shadow,” that are an immediate throwback to the sophomore golden age album “Silent Waters,” sharing some of the same, familiar melodic progressions. Pardon the pun, but they are too amorphous.

However, some surprises do creep in. “The Lantern” flirts with something exotic, weaving in an unexpected oriental flair while “Light and Shadow” pushes even further, its melody teetering on the edge of EDM. There’s also the album closer, “Despair” which starts off with a nod to 90’s goth metal with its odd-tempo intro and weaves in some Celtic-sounding melodies on a typical Amorphis synth.

Then there are tracks like “The Strange,” “Fog to Fog,” and the title piece; well-crafted, beautifully produced, but ultimately again tethered too tightly to the formula. They glide by smoothly, pleasant and polished, but the thrill fades fast. Before long, I find myself reaching for “Eclipse” again, where this entire journey into “mature Amorphis” began, and still sounds untouchably vital.

Still, there’s no denying the album sounds fantastic. The production is rich without being suffocating, clean, but never sterile. Paired with the stunning cover art, “Borderland” radiates a distinct atmosphere from the first note. I can almost smell pinewood forests, hear the crackle of river stones underfoot, wildlife rustling just out of sight. 

Even while rooted in their Finnish musical DNA, there’s something deeply transportive here. It reminds me of the mountains I grew up near: unspoken, wild, grounding. That kind of unintentional world-building is rare, especially in an age when so many records feel surgically overproduced and emotionally hollow. Amorphis still know how to set a scene and let you lose yourself in it.

Listen, I know how absurd it sounds to criticize a band for being too consistent. Creative stability is rare, and harder to maintain than most realize. But art isn’t binary, and neither are relationships. I’m not suggesting we throw open the doors and invite strangers in for a swinger party. But maybe, once in a while, try on a French maid costume. Light a candle. Get weird. Because as much as I still love this musical marriage, I can’t help but wonder how long I’ll keep revisiting “Eclipse” before I finally feel the need to file for divorce.