Don't judge a book by its cover, as the saying goes. Nonsense, of course, but not the point. Do, however, always listen to Norwegian duos dressed in white, holding a cat.
"This is not the summer of 1992", sings Turid Alida on "June 17", the new single by Philco Fiction, wishing for days gone by, days of better weather, better raves, deep house and good times. And while we would caution against romanticising the past, it's impossible not to get swept up in the moment:
To me, it's bright, big and beautiful. The music, the preachers, the wars, the vibrations, the illusions, the summers were different. I try to remember one single rainy day from my childhood, but I just can't. Summer never cheated on the 90s, I promise. Like I would ever lie about such things as the weather.
I'm sure it must have rained at some point in the '90s, even if only on Fran Healy, Shirley Manson and unjust fellows everywhere. Again, not the point.
The real point here is that "June 17" is a magnificent slow-burning electropop song - lazy verses interrupted by brief military drum rolls, choruses punctuated by stabs of brass, in its entirety a slowly melting ice-cube under a cocktail umbrella on a freshly sprinklered lawn.