Norman Palm – Shore To Shore

An ambulant vendor, donning beard and shorts, calls out, “¡Solo diez pesos!” Shore to Shore emanates from his tinny, purple, ghetto-blaster rucksack, peddling pirate CDs on the metro of Mexico City, the residence of Norman Palm when out of hibernation from his Berlin-based studio.

This multimedia DIY German pop export releases an understated record, encapsulating the longing behind long-distance relationships. Album-opener Start/Stop is strangely endearing – female backing vocals climb over Palm’s unhappy lyrics in harmony: “I can be lonely when I’m all alone, but loneliest of people, that is you.” And then a dainty electro Rhodes piano slinks in with a cocktail-bar solo.

Artificial strings linger in Smile, as Palm whines, “I waaanna seeee you naked.” The unsettling image purveyed is that of elastic facial contortions, prancing about on tiptoes in a tutu, very much in accord with Palm’s citation of ginger tea and Belle & Sebastian remedies. A faint chatter of djembes, a spatter of steel drums and warm layers of ukulele liken Shore to Shore to an apple strudel, yet disappointingly the record tapers off, submerged in graceless synth.