#torrfall

Ivor Cutler and Linda Hirst — “Women of the World” (Rough Trade, 1983)

Nils: The Norwegian broadcasting company, NRK, used to have excellent radio DJs. I believe I only heard this song once upon release, and as a nine-year-old boy, I never caught who sang it, what it was called, or what the lyrics were all about. And then it was gone! But the impossibly catchy melody of the chorus – the song is essentially one single mantra-like, cascading chorus – never left me, and as I grew older, I would replay it in my head repeatedly, hundreds and hundreds of times. In 1999, Jim O'Rourke did a cover version, which I accidentally got to hear, and I was stunned. There it was again, finally! That song!  

Cocteau Twins — The Spangle Maker (4AD, 1984)

Nils: Growing up in the Stavanger region in the 1980s, the UK was never far away. Back then, you could hop on the ferry to Newcastle or fly directly to London or Aberdeen (you'd be there in an hour or so). My older sister brought this back from one of her trips to the Thatcher Empire. Back then, I loved all that 4AD stuff, but in hindsight, Cocteau Twins were the best of all the then-current acts she so generously introduced me to. And Elisabeth Fraser never sounded more lost, more gothic, more out-of-this-world than on this one (the Treasure LP that came out the same year is rather wonderful too). Dream pop, indeed.

Basic Channel et al. — Any 12" under any moniker (Basic Channel, 1990s)

Nils: I can't remember the first Basic Channel-related 12" that I heard, but I remember becoming instantly hooked – what is this sound? – so I started collecting everything I could find during those early days of the Internet. When listening to this music now, whether it's Main Street, Maurizio, Basic Channel or Rhythm & Sound (preferably loudly and on big speakers), I still feel like time is slowly dissolving. Or it bends and can no longer be trusted. And often, continuing down this path of truly psychedelic techno, I still find myself lost in the strangely lit woods of Wolfgang Voigt's late 90s GAS records, which are equally transcendental.

Steely Dan — Gaucho (MCA, 1980)

Nils: Hey Nineteen! I first heard this record in my early twenties, and back then, the whole Steely Dan vibe didn't appeal much, nor did it make much sense. But I knew they were named after a William Burroughs-invented "artefact", so I gathered there had to be something there. It turns out there was, in spades (check out Donald and Walter's open letters to celebrities whose careers they worry about for further reading). Anyway, Steely Dan is now my favourite band for watching waves roll by from the balcony, closely followed by early ZZ Top. And this is their magnum opus, in my humble opinion. The Royal Scam and Aja aren't far off, though.

Armando Sciascia — After the End (Suite For String Orchestra & Synthesizer) (Vedette Records, 1971)

Kristoffer: Armando Sciascia, the Abruzzese custodian of the whole-tone scale. While some of his output during the 60s and 70s is admittedly quite stylized with its particular and sometimes overstated tonality, this album strikes a balance between classical principle and impious mischief, while being texturally tantalizing with its fine Italian blend of acoustic and synthetic arrangements. A bit hard to come by, although some of the tracks were available on the 1972 compilation Infini alongside Fabio Fabor on the slightly more obtainable Musique Pour L'Image imprint.

Camille Sauvage — Fantasmagories (Editions Montparnasse 2000, 1974)

Kristoffer: In some ways, Camille Sauvage was a French counterpart to Armando Sciascia, but with a markedly different sense of melody all his own. Sauvage composed some richly decorated harmonic showpieces that characterize this period in his discography, either under his real name or one of several pseudonyms, notably Eric Framond—and the orchestration was almost always over-the-top with shrill Edda Dell'Orso-esque vocals and screeching brass that nearly couldn't contain itself. On Fantasmagories, however, he shows a more nocturnal and contemplative side, really damp and littered with fragments of this and that.

Marcos Valle — Vento Sul (Odeon, 1972)

Kristoffer: While there is no shortage of Brazilian contenders with Edu Lobo, Gilberto Gil, Caetano Veloso, Os Mutantes and the lot, I regularly return to this one. It's Marcos Valle's best in my opinion, and there's not much more to be said about it. A really strong and playful MPB album.

Philip Glass — Music with Changing Parts for Ensemble (Chatham Square Editions, 1971)

Thore: The relentless electric organ stuff that Philip Glass did in the late 60s and early 70s I really like. This one is with saxophones, trumpet, violin, flutes and voices.

Boyd Rice — Boyd Rice (Mute, 1981)

Thore: Hysterical and also quite calming, the loops never get boring.

Ike Yard — Ike Yard (A Second) (Factory America, 1982)