erhaps you know Norma Tanega for her chirpy 60s folk pop, such as Walkin' My Cat Named Dog, which charted in the US and Canada. Or perhaps you know her swooning ballads from the 70s, which have had a streaming-aided resurgence in popularity. Lesser known are her wonky, nocturnal keyboard and drum machine experiments, recorded between the late 80s and early 90s with friend and writer Aida Pavletich. Together, the pair produced a trio of tapes on a four-track in Tanega's home studio, which are now being reissued.
The first of the three, Saturday Dancer, is billed as a "rap opera", which gives a sense of the album's theatrical tone, if not the genre. Over 19 scuzzy and shapeshifting vignettes, the duo narrate a noirish night out on the town, from stripteases and sticky tables to the dread that seeps in when the lights come on – with some frankly bizarre tangents. The lo-fi instrumentals are suitably delirious, with clattering, likely improvised percussion and eerie synths lurking somewhere between strange and seductive.
Amplifying the eroticism are Pavletich's esoteric commentaries, which channel the seedy, drawling monologues of Angel Corpus Christi or Little Annie. The jagged instrumentation references everything from primitive post-punk to children's music, while tracks such as Eryngo and Angel call to mind Patrick Cowley's swampy synth atmospheres. The eccentricity peaks on electronic whirlwind Danse Macabre and White People's Music, a sardonic take on a show tune with a dizzying country interlude.
The brilliant, smoky title track is the clear highlight – and the first song, meaning momentum wavers somewhat thereafter. You wonder whether the label would have been better off exercising more curatorial input, cherrypicking the standouts across all three tapes into a single, better focused compilation. That said, the project is an exciting artefact: an insight into the minds of two boundary-pushing artists.
Also out this month
Sinkronia, the new record from Basque musician , is a delightful listen (Hegoa). Inspired by minimalist compositions, these nine instrumentals are spacious but warm, layering bleary-eyed synths and hazy Durutti Column-style guitars with xylophone, hand drums and other simple percussive arrangements. The combination evokes a wistful feeling well-suited to the change of seasons. Another highlight is Archives, the fifth album from long-distance experimental trio (Fire Records). Broadcast are a clear influence on this set of gorgeous psych-pop tracks, but conventional structures are sent off-piste by warbling electronics and glitching samples. Bristolians (of her eponymous trio) and met up for a studio day last summer with just their clarinets and a few pedals. That session has materialised in For Clarinets (Bliss Archive), a charming collection of slow-building, occasionally sprightly, improvisations. Foggy samples of rainfall, woodwind and distant voices enhance the DIY atmosphere.