Royksopp: Melody Maker.

Melody AM is in stores now.

I’ve a review of Royksopp’s Melody AM that unequivocally states the band are better than Air. Certainly a bold call, but when you go back to back with the Norwegian duo’s debut against the less than spectacular latest offering from France’s finest, it pretty much seems an obvious call.

Formed in the mid nineties North of the Artic Circle in the town of Trosmo (also the home of Bel Canto), Melody AM is the band’s introduction to the international scene. Calling up influences as diverse as porn soundtrack producer Francis Lai, Art Of Noise and Sergio Moroder, Royksopp conjure up a grooving soundscape worthy of high praise. After all, there’s no denying the hookiness of their warm understated electronic burble.

“We met up at a friends house when we were 12 or 13,” Royksopp co-conspirator Torbjorn explains. “He had a PC, an old one, with a one colour screen and we played computer games together. Basically we shared the same interests. We missed out on things like going to parties and getting drunk when we were 15 so we could sit indoors and experiment with equipment and sounds. I guess that’s why we’re talking today.”

Was it worth it?

“What we missed out on we’re making up for now.”

The obvious question, just what does Royksopp mean, is met with another…

“Before I answer I just want to ask you a question. What does it mean to you?”

Ahhh, fighting fire with fire… I confess it left me wondering

“It’s something you’ve never heard before. I think it’s more about not having any expectations. We did not really care too much about what we called ourselves. Hopefully people stop and wonder a moment when they hear the name. The name’s kind of commercial suicide in a way. People will refuse to say it because they are afraid to say it wrong. It could be some experimental put your ass on the keyboard kind of thing,” he jokes.

“It actually means puffball, which is a type of fungus. It’s a round brown and white ball that grows on pavements and cracks in the concrete. If you step on it, it pops in a cloud of spores. It’s the way it has sex.”

You hometown seems quite musically fertile. Is there something in the water that brings out musical talent?

“Norway is quite close to Russia,” he laughs. “So there might be some radiation going on. It’s a nice place to live. The tempo of life suits us. There’s no real self-conscious vibe of the capital. There was another artist from home called Biosphere, and he showed us that it is possible to just build your own studio and not listen to anyone else and just do what you like to reach out to people. It was quite inspirational to us. There’s a lot going on and people are helping each other out. It’s not like competing against each other, it’s more sharing knowledge.”

Royksopp’s musical commitment also got the members of the band excused from Norway’s national service scheme.

“I didn’t want to do military service, I decided when I was young. I actually started on civil service. It’s quite meaningless, so I said I could do more for my country releasing records abroad and making Norway more well known. I told them that if I did it, it would fuck up my whole career. That happened when we were finishing the album. I wouldn’t have been able to do any promo, or touring or anything like that. I’m sure the person that approved letting me go had seen us in the newspaper or something like that.”

Are you stars at home?

“Naah, for me stars are people who are known all over the world. When we’re out there’s no stress, but we do get recognised. On the weekends when people are a little more drunk they come up and talk to you.”

During an earlier time in the band’s history, they toured with the Big Machine stage set, a four metre long metal labyrinth containing all their equipment. Torbjorn gives the details.

“We had an idea, it came from a children’s book where they want music, but instead of buying records they build a machine with violins and brass instruments making an orchestra. We liked the idea, but we did it with electronic equipment.”

“It was before we had any money for a crew, so we had to transport it ourselves. It was almost 200 kilos. It all folded down. We did a gig in Olso, and we couldn’t get it freighted back on the train. So we put it in an artist’s studio, a guy who was kind enough to let us leave it there. We didn’t go back for it… So he took it to a park and left it there. The following day it was in the national newspaper. A picture of our machine with the headline ‘what is this: art of junk’. That’s where the story ends, the police took it away, and we haven’t seen it since.”