Dance Little Bird Fugledansen: A Retro Pop Gem from Norway (1981)
Alright, let’s talk about Dance Little Bird Fugledansen. This quirky little pop album came out of Norway way back in 1981, released by Bjornen Sandefjord. It’s one of those records that feels like a time capsule, packed with catchy tunes and some seriously fun vibes. The album's got a mix of English and Norwegian tracks, which makes it feel kinda unique for its era.
Now, I gotta say, two tracks really stuck with me here: “It’s My Party” and “Kvirrevitt Dansen.” First off, “It’s My Party” is just pure nostalgia. You can tell they were going for that classic Lesley Gore energy, but they gave it their own twist. The vocals are heartfelt, and the production has this slightly rough-around-the-edges charm—like someone’s older sibling recorded it on a cassette player at a house party. It’s impossible not to sing along when the chorus hits.
Then there’s “Kvirrevitt Dansen,” which shows up twice—once as an instrumental version. Honestly, I didn’t know what “kvirrevitt” meant at first (spoiler: it roughly translates to "whirlwind"), but man, does this song make you want to move! The instrumental take strips everything down and lets the melody shine. There’s something hypnotic about how simple yet effective it is. It reminds me of those random dance breaks people used to have at family gatherings back in the day—you know, where your uncle suddenly starts doing the twist while everyone laughs? Yeah, it’s got that vibe.
The rest of the album keeps things interesting too. Tracks like “Japanese Boy” and “Physical” bring in some international flair, showing that these artists weren’t afraid to experiment with different sounds. And hey, who doesn’t love a good cover of “Good Year For The Roses”? That track alone could tug at anyone’s heartstrings.
What strikes me most about Dance Little Bird Fugledansen is how unpretentious it feels. It’s not trying to be groundbreaking or overly polished—it’s just a bunch of fun songs made by folks who clearly loved music. Listening to it now feels like flipping through an old photo album; sure, the edges might be a bit faded, but the memories still jump out at you.
Here’s the weird part though—why name the album after a bird? Like, was there supposed to be a deeper meaning behind “Fugledansen” (which means bird dance)? Or maybe someone just thought birds dancing would look cute on the cover art. Either way, it works.
So yeah, if you’re into retro pop or just wanna hear something different, give this album a spin. It’s like finding a forgotten treasure chest full of odd trinkets and shiny baubles. Not every piece will blow your mind, but you’ll walk away smiling—and isn’t that what music’s all about?
