Despite its casual feel-- the unusually edifying title means "great vibe at a local bar"-- Casiokids' U.S. debut has been ages in the making. One of its most striking songs is "Fot I Hose", a dance track with infectious bass synths scudding over a sizzling rhythm section. It's the song that turned me on to Norway's Casiokids two years ago, when it appeared on a sampler CD for the 2008 Øya Festival in Oslo. When I saw them live, they augmented their genial free-for-all of dance, electro-pop, indie-rock, and Afro-pop styles with giant marionettes, shadow puppets, and videos. My impression was of an ambitious but humble band working hard to make their demanding music sound effortless, as to provide their audience with a frictionless good time.
While Casiokids hail from Bergen-- not exactly a cultural backwater, having already produced Datarock and Annie-- it took the support of Kevin Barnes (Of Montreal) to get them signed in the U.S. The foreign vocals were probably the sticking point, which has turned into a point of pride for Polyvinyl, who claim that this is the first Norwegian-language pop album ever released stateside. But this is no stretch for American audiences who've embraced bands like Dungen and Malajube. Casiokids' silky vocal harmonies, running the gamut from Brian Wilson-classic to Animal Collective-quirky, amply distinguish the songs by emotional register. In light of this trendy, appealing sound, it seems crazy that it took so long for these great vibes to infiltrate American bars.
It's also a blessing. Young bands seldom get to incubate any more, and Casiokids used their prep time wisely, piecing together a proper album instead of rushing to pad out a few inspired tracks with filler. The record has a unified vibe and a strong sense of balance, but also varies greatly from track to track. "Grønt Lys I Alle Ledd" is languorous and loping, with a breezy indie-rock feel, while "Verdens Største Land" is sleek and taut, more European and cosmopolitan. These two styles are the album's bedrock, but scattered about you'll find digested traces of spaghetti Western, British folk, and Afrobeat. Woodblocks, guiros, and handclaps texture the organic-feeling melodies. The first half is stronger, but nothing feels throwaway-- the passion and the new ideas are always there. Concise at eight songs, it doesn't feel miserly, just smartly pared down.
The overall aesthetic is a deep-contrast balance of tropic and cosmic. This is especially pronounced on "Togens Hule", which opens with a spacey duet for bleating and whistling synths that would feel right at home on album by diskJokke. It's the kind of screwy, endearing curio that Casiokids use to lighten up their music, but it turns into a more serious-business synth anthem that reprises the feline "ya ya ya" harmonies from the first track, bringing the album to a satisfying close. This speaks to Casiokids' sensitivity to the listener's desire for gratification, a concept to which so many bands seem either ambivalent or hostile. Their self-indulgent gestures exist only to set up generous ones, sticking around long enough to delight, but not to alienate. If they start to chase their muse too far into left field, they catch themselves and double back. Their patient, considerate way of working has paid off with an uncommonly ripened and grounded debut.
