Lars Fredrik Frøislie: Gamle Mester

Lars Fredrik Frøislie has spent the better part of two decades as the keyboard architect behind Wobbler, the Norwegian outfit that rebuilt 1970s symphonic prog from the inside out using vintage gear and a period-accurate ear. He has also logged time in White Willow and appeared on more than thirty other recordings since 2003, alongside a parallel career scoring music for television and film. His first solo outing, 2023's Fire Fortellinge on Karisma Records, established him as a bandleader rather than merely a hired hand behind a wall of Mellotrons. Gamle Mester (Old Master) is his second, and it deepens that debut's ambitions considerably.

The record takes its title from an ancient oak in Krødsherad, a tree that also inspired a nineteenth-century Jørgen Moe poem, and Frøislie uses it as connective tissue across six pieces drawing as freely from mythology and painting as from progressive rock lineage. Opener "Demring" sets the terms early, building from a spare Mellotron figure into a fully orchestrated theme without ever losing the tune beneath the semi-classical layering; the composition blossoms into a memorable sub-theme through the composer's genial piano phrasing, the kind of touch that separates a craftsman from a mere collector of vintage keyboards.

"Jakten På Det Kalydonske Villsvin" unspools into a retelling of Rubens' Calydonian boar hunt, topped with harmonious motifs and vocals that lead into a tasty Mellotron passage and a slow build toward an entrancing primary hook. The music shifts through contrasting movements via fluent instrumental deliveries, meshing early prog style multihed mini-motifs with surging rhythmic forays, all embedded in Frøislie's multifaceted technique and his shrewd, almost mischievous use of vintage synths amid vivid, story-like phrasing.

The title track sits at the record's midpoint and functions almost as a hinge, a patient, hymn-like piece anchored by a solid, straightforward groove; here the keyboardist arranges his electric keys into a setting so orderly it suggests an entire orchestra of prog players lending support, though it is Frøislie alone doing the lending. Closer "Skumring" mirrors the opener in miniature, winding the album's themes back down to a quiet, unresolved close rather than a grand finish, a wise choice that suits the record's reflective character far better than bombast would have.

This album does not reinvent what Frøislie has been doing with Wobbler for years, and listeners hoping for a hard left turn will not find one here. What it offers instead is six exceptional compositions built with genuine discipline, proof that vintage keyboard maximalism can still serve the song rather than swallow it. Frøislie remains among the most purposeful writers working this corner of progressive rock, and Gamle Mester plays like a master craftsman refusing to coast on his own considerable reputation.