The C86 influence continues, this time behind the Norwegian borders. Carrying the torch this time, the super-sized counterpart to the dual male team of Kings Of Convenience, Razika - an all-girl, five piece outfit, all aged 19, who have been at work since at least two years ago. So, bearing the trademarks of jangle-pop and post-Slits-post-whatever, these girls bravely march forth into pop territory. The result is reminiscent of the era they so obviously love, paying homage in place of stealing. Combined with a keen ear for sweet melodies and pleasantly banal lyrics, Program 91 is an album almost suited to be the soundtrack to late summer.

Despite a stereotype for cold days and endless suns, the northern hemisphere seems suited for intense focus on a mood evocative of an outside realm. Carrying that concept out to a Beach Fossils-esque T, Razika tend to blur the lines between modern indie-pop-cum-beachhead-jam and 1960s girl pop while maintaining the up beat jerk of reggae’s vestigial influence. ‘Why We Have To Wait’ typifies this best, and in its 2’12” length becomes a satisfying piece of music relying on the irresistibly saccharine chorus. Combined with an accented English that is both sweetly goofy and remarkably effective. Unsurprisingly it is when Razika write in their native tongue that the songs seem to result in a better delivery, ditching the mild cloying of twee for the earnest lovesick lilt of happy confession. As fun as it is to imagine the actual meaning of titles like ‘Hvem Skal Tro Pâ Deg Nâ,’ more pleasure is derived by giving completely in to the engrossing but simple mix.

As mentioned before, the influence of The Slits is heavy with this one. From the emphatic upstroke to the simple but driving drums, musically the territory would not be out of place on a compilation circa ’87. ‘Taste My Dream’ opens with a direct quote from the bridge of ‘Lady Madonna,’ but quickly becomes a tale of looming distance. “You say you want to stay inside of me/Well I won’t tell my friends or my mother/You’re on the wrong side, you want to leave for no return,” sounds buoyant and happy vocally but lyrically, well, says it all. The sound is that of solstice, the impending ending of one season as relinquishing control to another. These girls may be young, but clearly they are growing up and coping with the issues of time. By choosing a sound distanced from modernity, the exploratory focus lies on the lyrics, which reiterate the strife of popular music since the ‘40s (and music in general since secular works focused on interpersonal relationships). That is the banality of songwriting, channelled through the eyes of a writer with obvious skill for melodic invention and word choice.

Something is so irresistible about Program 91 that its shortcomings can be brushed aside. Sure, it can feel a bit derivative at times but that is solely to be blamed on the sounds used, a choice that can make every band from Wavves to Cloud Nothings guilty of worse offenses. In the end, Program 91 comes off as a loving tribute to the myriad sounds Razika have come to know and love. Showcasing as much deft skill as embodiment of a mood, Razika deserve to get some attention. And combined with a cold beverage and a warm evening, their sounds work beautifully.