In early 2012, the music director of a Norwegian state-funded radio station called P3 declined to add a song called "Inspector Norse" by disco producer Todd Terje to its rotation, saying it sounded like "background music at a beach bar." When an interviewer asked him what he thought about the radio station's description, Terje said he agreed with it. "It sounds like elevator music. Good, danceable elevator music." Then, in a pun fit only for hypothetical dads, he added, "Elevate your body!" In Terje's world, there is no distinction made between beating and joining—it's all join, join, join.
It's Album Time is, as advertised, his first full-length album. The title sets the tone: Casual, confident, and unburdened by the imagined need for significance that scares so many good dance producers into losing their cool when given a bigger platform. Most of the music on it could be classified as disco, with shades of cocktail lounge, exotica, surf instrumentals, and other styles that favor whimsy and novelty over sober artistic expression. Not that Terje isn't an artist—he is, and a careful one, fluent in history, expert with texture, and with a grasp on composition more akin to a 1960s film composer than a contemporary techno producer. But for as much ground as he covers on It's Album Time, the music feels effortless, gliding from Henry Mancini-esque detective jazz to bouncy, Stevie Wonder funk like breeze blowing through the waffle weave of a leisure suit. Conventional wisdom bears out: The looser the grip, the tighter the hold.
Despite recycling four of its twelve tracks from previously released singles and EPs, It's Album Time has a linear, cohesive feel. Instead of trying to top "Strandbar" or "Inspector Norse", Terje ties them together with short interstitial tracks—valleys that give perspective to the mountains. If he ever capitulates to the conventions of making a full-length album, it's in structure, which here is less redolent of disco than classic-rock pranksters like Paul McCartney or Frank Zappa: an introduction that features men whispering the words "It's album time" repeatedly, peaking with a ballad halfway through; closing with the joyous "Inspector Norse", and dying away to the sound of distant applause.
Terje is, at heart, a comedian. "I like my music very fruity," he told Resident Advisor in 2007. "Lots of percussion, lots of silly effects." When I interviewed the illustrator Bendik Kaltenborn, who has drawn the covers for most of Terje's releases including It's Album Time, he told me that the two first bonded over what Kaltenborn called a "Stupid" sense of humor. Everything about It's Album Time and Terje's self-presentation—whether it's the fart-like synth sounds, the conga-line enthusiasm, or the promo photos of him flexing his minor biceps with a pout on his face—is so studiously carefree that he sometimes seems less like a human being than an all-night party incarnate.