[Feedelity, Smalltown Supersound]

At this point in Hans-Peter Lindstrøm’s musical career, audiences know he can go the distance. The Norwegian producer first cruised over the ramparts of Oslo’s relatively small music scene and into DJs’ crates on the backs of lengthy, interstellar disco grooves made for heaving dance floors. Collaborating with compatriot Prins Thomas on their self-titled and II albums, the pair refined extended jam sessions into still sizable explorations of the spaces between funk, prog, and Kraut rock at Balearic tempos. And then there was Lindstrøm’s 2008 opus, Where You Go I Go Too, whose three elongated movements streamlined into one epic excursion through the hyper-colorful depths of his creative vision, rendered with a grandiosity redolent of Vangelis. Going long has its drawbacks as well, like relegating Lindstrøm to niche markets too narrow for such a multi-talented musician. The dilemma he faces, then, is showing he can be concise while maintaining the appealing traits teased out of his lengthier tracks. With long-time collaborator Christabelle by his side, Lindstrøm tackles that challenge on their new full-length, Real Life Is No Cool.

Christabelle, who was formerly known as Solale and born as Isabelle Sandoo, is an ideal partner for Lindstrøm’s forray into more pop-structured music. She’s lent her misty pipes and sultry spoken vocals to “Music In My Mind,” one of his first solo singles released back in 2003, as well as 2007’s “Let’s Practise” and “Let It Happen,” their Vangelis cover. Her charmingly imperfect performances tie the album together and provide human warmth in tracks which, for all their energy, may otherwise feel a bit clinically produced. Having worked on the album since at least 2006, the pair wisely chose to include abbreviated versions of their singles on Real Life, although the bulk of the album is completely new. During this long gestation period the pair wrote a generally cohesive collection of tunes around these initial planks, which ought to ameliorate some overlap concerns of Lindstrøm completists. Christabelle and Lindstrøm show a good deal of range across the album’s 10 songs — certainly making the most of the reclined bounce which runs through their singles, but also stretching into horn-studded funk (“Baby Can’t Stop”), chiming synth pop (“Keep It Up”), nighttime slow jams (“High & Low”), and irreverent proto-house (“So Much Fun”). The sound of master tapes played backwards and manipulated serve as puzzling transition points between tracks, as if the listener is falling through a wormhole to different points in the aural world they’ve created for us. To put it mildly, Real Life is a trip.

Conscious of how an album this diverse could twist the melons of the average pop fan, Lindstrøm takes considerable pains to make it accessible without compromising the styling he’s developed. So where opener “Looking For What” careens from scattershot tape edits to leaning arpeggiated funk and then a brief snippet of what amounts to lo-fi hip-hop, listeners subsequently plunge into the far more straightforward and hook-laden “Lovesick.” Packed into a tidy three and a half minutes, the tune tugs at hips with sly riffs that sandwich Christabelle’s teasing vocals in bold synth stabs and bright piano chords. “You don’t know me / You don’t know me any more,” she informs, readying listeners for another shift in gear as they dig into the silvery “Let It Happen.” Similarly shimmering, the ringing 80’s pop synth melodies and Christabelle’s cheerleading on “Keep It Up” encourage flagging listeners to do just that. Paring down “Music In My Mind” must have been tough and devotees will crave the originals’ length, but its heavy-lidded funk is surprisingly punchy at just over three minutes (the same is true of the once 12 minute long “Let’s Practise”). Yet the album’s most pop moment is also its longest and perhaps its best: Dance floor juggernaut “Baby Can’t Stop” has all the brassy fanfare of Quincy Jones arrangements on Off the Wall, but it’s paired with driving synths and vocodered vocals that recall Daft Punk, as well as a commanding Christabelle performance. Executed with Lindstrøm’s familiar flair and careful attention to details, “Baby Can’t Stop” is an overt crowd pleaser of the highest order, even if it’s too long for the radio.

The album makes its starkest shift in direction at “So Much Fun,” a carefree romp that leaves its rough edges exposed: murky sonics, noodling guitar leads and unfinessed vocals give off the impression of being recorded in a loose, informal setting. Yet it only sets the stage for the face-melting experiments of “Never Say Never,” which leaves audiences to make sense of the searing guitar leads that precede more retrograde tape manipulations; it’s more likely audiences will just skip such a harshly contrasting track. Consider it a palate cleanser, then, for the album’s sweet farewell. “High & Low” aches with romantic tension, its gently loping groove and starstruck arrangements eventually evaporating in a haze of improvisation. Although it closes fairly strongly, I find the messy tail end of Real Life less satisfying than its more fastidious beginning and mid-section. Such are the pitfalls of creating a high octane pop album — the weird fringes seem even more outlandish even if they do lend a bit more character to a tidy collection of songs. Overall, Real Life Is No Cool hits the right notes for both the folks in the cheap seats as well as long time Lindstrøm fans, playing up Christabelle’s unifying performances and making a splash with unabashed ear candy. With brevity clearly within his reach, it will be interesting to see where Lindstrøm leads us next.