Norma Tanega and Aida Pavletich: Saturday Dancer review – cult pop songwriter’s wonky collaborations
Norma Tanega and Aida Pavletich: Saturday Dancer review – cult pop's wonky collaborations

Norma Tanega, known for 60s folk pop hits like Walkin’ My Cat Named Dog and 70s ballads revived by streaming, also made wonky, nocturnal keyboard and drum machine experiments in the late 80s and early 90s. These were recorded with friend and writer Aida Pavletich on a four-track in Tanega’s home studio, and are now being reissued.

A trio of tapes from the home studio

The first of the three, Saturday Dancer, is billed as a “rap opera”, hinting at its theatrical tone. Across 19 scuzzy and shapeshifting vignettes, the duo narrate a noirish night out on the town, from stripteases and sticky tables to the dread when the lights come on, with bizarre tangents. The lo-fi instrumentals are delirious, with clattering, likely improvised percussion and eerie synths between strange and seductive.

Pavletich’s esoteric commentaries amplify the eroticism, channelling the seedy, drawling monologues of Angel Corpus Christi or Little Annie. The jagged instrumentation references primitive post-punk and children’s music, while tracks like Eryngo and Angel recall Patrick Cowley’s swampy synth atmospheres. The eccentricity peaks on Danse Macabre and White People’s Music, a sardonic show tune with a dizzying country interlude.

Highlights and other releases

The smoky title track is the clear highlight and the first song, so momentum wavers thereafter. The label might have been better off cherrypicking standouts across all three tapes into a single, better focused compilation. Still, the project is an exciting artefact, offering insight into two boundary-pushing artists.

Also out this month, Basque musician Iker Munduate’s Sinkronia (Hegoa) is a delightful listen with nine spacious, warm instrumentals inspired by minimalist compositions. Vanishing Twin’s Archives (Fire Records) shows Broadcast’s influence on gorgeous psych-pop tracks, sent off-piste by warbling electronics and glitching samples. Bristolians Tara Clerkin and Memotone’s For Clarinets (Bliss Archive) is a charming collection of improvisations from a studio day with clarinets and pedals, enhanced by foggy samples of rainfall, woodwind and distant voices.