Through sun and rain, sweeping winds and autumnal mist, this is the one album we can count on – always count on – to fill the shop and lift the mood, the Norwegian DJ leading us Pied Piper-like through a dream-state of synths and strings and restless beats. Less a collection of songs than an ebb and flow of broken disco and primary colour, It’s Album Time patches summer warmth to Scandinavian cool, magnificently camp yet weirdly epic.
And God, those tunes. We defy anyone to hear Inspector Norse and keep their limbs from moving, whether it’s a shy twitching on the bus or a full-on Travolta in a cable car on an Italian mountain (unwise, by the way – the cabin swings quite terrifyingly over the ravine). Add in the chase-scene house of Delorean Dynamite and the manic bass squelch of Precan Goes To Acapulco and that’s all your parties sorted.
But as kinetic as the highpoints are Terje is just as interested in the shadows underneath: Bryan Ferry’s vocal contribution to the mid-album comedown Johnny and Mary is a triumph of understated melancholy, and even its biggest tunes often flicker at the edges, like a neon sign on a seedy boulevard burning out at 3am. That cover might be all clean lines and lounge-bar suave but there’s darkness lurking at the sides, held at bay only by the frantic dancing.
Lucky, then, that that dancing keeps on going right through to dawn. And for anyone looking to stave off the bleak mid-winter here’s an album that’s ever summer, the nights warm and the air thick with laughter to get you through to May.
‘It’s Album Time’, you say? Hell yeah.