Kommode
Analog Dance Music

THE REVIEW

Between the release of Declaration of Dependence and the latest Peace or Love, the two members of Kings of Convenience, Erlend Øye and Eirik Glambek Bøe, certainly haven't been idle. Both have dedicated themselves to their parallel projects, albeit with due differences. Erlend, having moved with his mother to Syracuse, released in 2014 Legao, an interesting work recorded together with the Icelandic reggae band Hjálmar, and later gifted us Quarantine at El Ganzo, created during the lockdown spent in Mexico with Sebastian Maschat of The Whitest Boy Alive, a group in which the same Norwegian musician is involved. On the other hand, Eirik, who became a father in the meantime, revived the Kommode and released Analog Dance Music, an album consisting of ten tracks that distance themselves from both the acoustic sound of the Kings of Convenience and the indie-folk fascinations of his bandmate.

True to its title, Analog Dance Music draws directly from disco-music (and partly from indie-rock and atmospheric pop à la Chris Rea), reviving that gear made of driving drums and bass, synthesizers, horns, and choirs, a perfect mirror of the period in question. However, it would be wrong to consider the work as a mere divertissement for dancers with a vintage spirit, because Analog Dance Music, with its subtle use of electronics, is more suited to immersive listening from an armchair or sofa, rather than wild and sweaty dances.

“I would love to dance/If only I could crack some clues and find my shoes/My only shoes”: from the very first words, we understand that Eirik hasn't suddenly turned into Tony Manero, but remains the songwriter we know, with his repertoire of shyness, doubts, and unrequited loves.

The two initial tracks, “Shoes” and “Captain of a Sinking Ship”, set the record straight, and it almost feels like we're in the vicinity of the Neapolitan Nu Genea, themselves inspired by the late seventies disco sound. The subsequent pieces more or less follow the same script, with grooves that make you tap your foot and introspective lyrics, while “The Ink in the Great Book of Music” is an entirely instrumental composition, dominated by a weave of synths, drums, and percussion.

“Agent” and “Houses for Birds” transport us to a soft-rock world that smells of lonely and melancholic beaches (the second really seems to have come out of a Chris Rea album), then making way for “I Feel Free”, where regular rhythms alternate with jazz/bossa nova-flavored suggestions. The closure is entrusted to “Come On, Sense!”, a soft indie-pop track with engaging bass lines where Eirik commits his hopes of love to paper and pen (“Oh paper, white paper, hold on now to these words/Paper, white paper, how to get through to her/When she lifts you up from her drawer, running her eyes all over you/Will you show her, and show clearly, all the things I'm writing on you?”).

The result is overall positive, yet Analog Dance Music doesn't fully convince. The arrangements are all too similar (the harshest critics would say monotonous) and Eirik's voice, often whispered, doesn't bring much excitement to the Kommode's songs. The reference to “dance music” also leaves one a bit puzzled (it almost never crossed my mind to dance), but here irony, which surely motivated the band's choice, can come to our aid.

In conclusion, the album by Eirik Glambek Bøe and the Kommode is undoubtedly good, but it doesn't reach the levels of Kings of Convenience and some of Erlend Øye's solo works, in my opinion, more cheerful, light, and rich in ideas.

Passed with reservation.

DeReviewer Rating: 3.5