Album Review: The Early Years by Peloton – A Cool Dive into Contemporary Jazz
Alright, let’s talk about The Early Years by Peloton. This 2011 gem from Norway is one of those albums that sneaks up on you when you least expect it. It’s contemporary jazz with a chill Nordic vibe, released under the Parallell label. If you’re into smooth grooves, clever arrangements, and just enough unpredictability to keep things interesting, this might be your jam.
First off, can we appreciate the lineup? You’ve got Erik Nylander laying down some serious drum and percussion work—this guy doesn’t mess around. Then there’s Petter Vågan on guitar, who also pulls double duty as a performer (multi-talented dude alert!). Hallvard Godal brings the saxophone and clarinet game strong, while Steinar Nickelsen adds synth vibes that feel like they’re floating in from another dimension. Oh, and Karl Strømme on trumpet? Yeah, he ties it all together like the cherry on top of an already delicious sundae.
Now, onto the tracks. With twelve songs on the album, I’ll focus on two that stuck with me for different reasons.
“Leon Houa”
This track hits differently. From the first few seconds, the rhythm section locks in so tight it feels like they’re daring you not to nod along. There’s something about how the horns weave in and out—it’s playful but still super polished. And then there’s that moment halfway through where everything drops out except for the guitar. Petter Vågan just lets loose, and suddenly you realize you’ve been holding your breath. By the time the full band comes back in, you’re hooked. This tune has replay value written all over it.
“Lonely Bird Song”
If “Leon Houa” is the upbeat charmer, “Lonely Bird Song” is its introspective cousin. The clarinet here steals the show—it’s haunting but warm at the same time, like hearing someone tell a story they’ve kept bottled up for years. The pacing is slower, giving each note room to breathe, and the synthesizer subtly creeps in like fog rolling over a fjord. Honestly, this track made me pause whatever I was doing and just… listen. That’s rare these days.
One thing I love about The Early Years is how it balances complexity with accessibility. Nothing feels forced or overly flashy, yet there’s plenty going on if you really pay attention. It’s the kind of album you can throw on during a lazy Sunday afternoon or use as background music while pretending to adult—but trust me, once you catch yourself humming along, you’ll start paying closer attention.
Final thought: Listening to this album feels like finding an old Polaroid photo tucked inside a book—you didn’t know you needed it until you found it, and now it’s kinda special. Also, fun fact: Laufmaschine translates to “running machine,” which sounds like something out of a steampunk novel. Who knew jazz could inspire such random musings?
So yeah, give The Early Years a spin. Just don’t blame me if you end up lost in its grooves for hours.
