Oceans of Sadness, Mountains of Hope catches Kumea Sound in a moment of change. Originally recorded in June 2017 as a personal musical diary, it was not meant to become an official release. Only later, after friends encouraged Lauri Wuolio to put it out, did it enter the catalogue. That private starting point still matters: the album feels close, open, and unforced.
It also marks the end of one phase and the beginning of another. By this point, Kumea Sound was moving away from the busking era and toward a more gathered way of composing for handpans. But this is still music shaped largely through improvisation. Its natural state is closer to journaling than composition: ideas arrive quickly, moods shift, and pieces unfold with the directness of something caught in the moment. The compositional elements are there not to control that flow too tightly, but to give form to it — to bring just enough structure to the looseness and chaos of the process.
Handpans remain at the center, joined by synthesizers, samplers, and a wider studio palette. The sound is light on its feet but full of feeling. There is sadness here, but not collapse; hope, but nothing forced. The album moves between reflection and openness, between private notes and something more shared.
Originally released as a numbered vinyl edition of 20 copies, alongside a limited CD-R run of 50 copies and a digital edition, the album quickly found its listeners. The currently available digital edition has been quietly remastered in 2026 from the original 2017 release, preserving its intimacy while bringing more depth and clarity to the recording.