What do music, humor, and the Swedish dialect of Vöyri have in common? The comedy group Kaj.
GramexPress interviewed the Finnish band Kaj in 2016,
and now republishes the interview in honor of the group’s victory
in the final of the Melodifestivalen song contest.
Re-release from 2016
Humorgruppen Kaj, formed by three young men from Vöyri, has quickly become a major favorite in Swedish-speaking Finland. Their shows sell out, their videos are widely known, and awards keep piling up.
Among Finnish-speaking audiences, though, the group—who perform in their undeniably tricky Vöyri dialect—has stayed more of a niche favorite. A shame, really, since Kaj puts in ambitious work and is genuinely funny.
Kevin Holmström, Axel Åhman, and Jakob Norrgård became friends back in school. Born in 1993, the trio started creating sketches and humorous bits for friends’ birthday parties and similar occasions.
“When our friends got tired of listening, we started doing it for ourselves,” Åhman says.
In 2009, they got the chance to perform in their hometown. They had two songs ready, and more followed as performance opportunities began to pop up. The group’s name came from the first letters of their names.
Once they had enough songs, the idea of making an album started to take shape. Janne Hyöty, a multitalented producer from Vaasa, came on board, and the album Professionella Pjasalappar was released in 2012.
The album brought even more gigs. “Every show felt great, and we kept creating new material,” Norrgård says. “After the shows, people would come up and compliment us—they were genuinely happy.”
Kaj offered something fresh. They performed music in a variety of styles, added a humorous twist to everything, and topped it all off with their own dialect. “We didn’t apologize—we just did it. It was obvious to us, even if it maybe wasn’t to the audience,” Åhman says.
Their popularity grew in Ostrobothnia, and in 2014 Wasa Teater added a Kaj show to its lineup. “The planned three performances sold out immediately, and in the end, we did 24 sold-out shows,” Kevin Holmström says.
That same year, Kaj released a new album, Lokalproducerat Pjas, and created Svenska Yle’s Christmas calendar.
Kaj’s real breakthrough came in the summer of 2014 with the tongue-twistingly titled Jåo nåo e ja jåo YOLO ja nåo. The song tells the story of a man from the village of Pensala—pushing fifty—who gets a little too excited on the dance floor. It quickly became a summer hit among Swedish-speaking Finns.
The success wasn’t surprising. The video was carefully crafted, with a solid storyline, upbeat energy, and clever lyrics. Today, its YouTube views are approaching a million—a remarkable number, considering how few people actually understand the Vöyri dialect.
The following year, Kaj set off on their first tour of Finland. The show, which made its way through Swedish-speaking regions across the country, was a hit—many of the performances sold out.
Turns out Ostrobothnian humor works elsewhere too. “The feedback was great—lots of people were laughing,” Holmström says. “And they were even laughing at the same parts in Uusimaa as in Ostrobothnia,” Åhman adds.
This fall, the group released their third album, Kom ti byin, and once again Kaj is touring Finland with sold-out shows.
One of Kaj’s more unusual gigs took place in Gothenburg, at a conference for people interested in Asian culture. The organizer had discovered Kaj’s energetic J-Pop parody Pa to ta na kako online and invited them to perform.
Otherwise, interest in Sweden has so far been limited—the east often feels unfamiliar to our western neighbor. And in a music powerhouse like Sweden, there’s no shortage of homegrown acts.
Later this year, Kaj will play a show in Stockholm. The audience, however, will likely consist mostly of Finland Swedes living in Sweden. “Although there is one Swede who’s actually tattooed the name of our song Heimani i skick on their arm,” Åhman says.
Interest in Finland Swedish music and the way Finland Swedes speak Swedish seems to be growing in Sweden, the group believes. As an example, they point to the success of the band Vasas flora och fauna.
“We’re always trying to reinvent ourselves,” Norrgård says, explaining the group’s versatility. Kaj doesn’t stick to any specific music genre—their songs can take any form.
“We usually start with a feeling, a strong vision for a new song,” Åhman adds. “It’s fun not having to decide what genre to work in.”
They always want to say something, but the format is initially open, and the starting point can vary. Once the form becomes clear, producer Janne Hyöty—who’s fluent in many musical styles—is a huge help.
The group enjoys creating content for a variety of platforms—nothing is off the table from the start, Norrgård explains. The Kaj concept includes music, videos, and live shows.
But at the heart of it all is humor. “That’s the beauty of it—it lets us play with different performance styles, like theater,” Holmström says.
Live shows are especially important to the group. “Humor has to be live,” they emphasize. Kaj performs 50–60 gigs a year, including 25–30 full-length shows of their own, each about an hour and a half long.
So, what is humor? “If you try to explain it, you ruin it,” Norrgård says. “It’s a primal force—a need that’s built into us,” Åhman offers.
“We started with the idea that people just want to come, listen, and have fun. It’s important to believe it’s fun yourself—that really matters,” Holmström says. The group has no hidden agenda or deeper message.
Anything can be joked about, if done the right way. “You can always make fun of your own stupidity. We joke about where we come from—about the stereotypes,” Åhman says. The group doesn’t aim to criticize people, just to point things out.
Are there any sacred cows in Swedish-speaking Finland that are off-limits? Not really. “If there’s one sacred cow in Swedish-speaking Finland that can’t be joked about,” Norrgård quips, “it’s Humorgruppen Kaj.”
Dialect is a key part of Kaj’s music. Among Swedish-speaking Finns, the dialects of Ostrobothnia are rather exotic, and Kaj’s Vöyri dialect is far from the easiest to understand. Yet, it has gained popularity across all Swedish-speaking regions in Finland.
“We do humor in dialect, but we don’t do dialect humor,” Norrgård emphasizes. The dialect is the group’s mother tongue, and using their own language feels completely natural. “When we started, we thought dialect was funny. But now, the humor is what’s funny, not the dialect,” Åhman adds.
Kevin Holmström reminds us that the use of dialect is becoming more common in Finland-Swedish music, and it’s not always about humor.
Hanna Lagerström’s single Min tur ti ga, released this year, tells the story of unrequited love in a stylish rap in the Närpese dialect. Rickhard Eklund’s movingly beautiful Finland tells the story of two gay men from Russia coming to Finland, in the Närpese dialect.
Pop artist Månskensbonden (Markus Bergfors) from Koivulahti, Mustasaari, sings in the local dialect, known for his Österbotten Noir style in songs like Döpt i Kyro älv and the ballad För sent för ibland.
The indie pop group Vasas flora och fauna, primarily based in Sweden, released their debut album Släkt med Lotta Svärd last year. The vocals feature the Vaasa area’s Swedish dialect.
In Kaj, everyone does everything, the men say. One of the three might draft a new song, but the final result is always a group effort. Lyrics and music are created simultaneously, together.
Kaj invests heavily in their videos. They have professional skills: Jakob Norrgård studies filming and editing at Arcada University of Applied Sciences in Helsinki, while Kevin Holmström studies sound engineering at the same school.
Axel Åhman studies journalism at the Svenska Social- och kommunalhögskolan in Helsinki. He also works as a film critic for Vasabladet.
Videos offer the opportunity to surprise, the men reflect. “Stories are told through the video,” Holmström says. “It’s a strong package when music and visuals come together,” Norrgård adds. “We have more views on YouTube than on Spotify—music and video go hand in hand.”
Even though making videos is time-consuming and expensive, doing it themselves makes it possible. A lot is created through volunteer work. The Taco hej video, for example, was shot in a single three-minute take on a July night. A stretch of road in Vöyri was closed off, and 40–50 people were involved.
Some songs easily translate into videos, such as the song Pa to ta na kako, where the story was already in place. The same goes for the rap Kom ti byin, which depicts the trio’s hometowns. However, the song Taco hej, which tells the story of a couple’s home evening, required more thought on how to transform it into a video.
Each video is different; they don’t repeat themselves. “People expect videos from us, and we try to surpass the previous one. We make it hard for ourselves,” Åhman says.
“Big videos have become really important to us. Not just for our career, but because we’ve learned to solve technical problems and similar challenges.” It’s great to do it ourselves. “We don’t count the budget; we just do it the way we want.”
The cost of one Kaj video, thanks to DIY and volunteer work, is only around 7,000–10,000 euros.
Crossing the language barrier is difficult, even in a small country like Finland. The members of Kaj, who grew up in fully Swedish-speaking villages like Komossa, Maxmo, and Palviks, say they don’t master Finnish well enough to make music in it.
They are not familiar with Finnish dialect music, but they can point to a kindred spirit on the Finnish-speaking side. “Justimus reminds us in many ways,” Åhman says, referring to the popular videos by the two young men’s group.
Studying in Helsinki introduced the Kaj members to an environment where Finnish is the dominant language.
“Many think I’m Estonian when I speak Finnish,” Åhman says. “There’s still a long way to go before we release an album in Finnish.”
“But it would be a fun idea,” Holmström confirms.
“I’m a sannfinlandssvensk, a typical Finnish-Swede. I’ve studied compulsory Finnish in school,” Norrgård describes his Finnish language skills.
However, Kaj did make one attempt in Finnish—a rap song called Hupparipäivä, released under the band name Säästäjä X feat. Cheep.
For their new album, they created a version that bridges the language barrier. Kaj performed in Finnish, while visiting Vaasa-based rap artists Kuningas Pähkinä and Setä Tamu sang in Swedish.
“We live in our own bubble, but we’re becoming more open all the time,” Åhman says.
Next, the band is heading to the Eurovision Song Contest.
Kaj won the Melodifestivalen final on Saturday, March 8, 2025, with their song Bara bada bastu and will represent Sweden at the Eurovision Song Contest in May in Basel, Switzerland. This will be the first time a Finnish artist represents a country other than Finland in the Eurovision. However, Finnish composers have previously been involved in songs from other countries.
Main photo: Photo: AP / Lehtikuva / Anders Wiklund