“This place has probably never been so quiet.  Thank you.”  So said the Magical Orchestra himself, Morten Qvenild, and I wondered if he had been here a few weeks ago when this place was the Keiji Haino / Chris Corsano decibel factory.  A sold-out Spitz was indeed reverentially hushed last night in its respect for the wondrous and crystalline thing that is Susanna Wallumrod’s voice.

Opinions seem pretty much divided over SATMO’s recent covers album Melody Mountain – their choice of such well known and much-covered songs (prompted, I would assume, by the success of their version of “Jolene” on debut List of Lights and Buoys) being seen either as bold or misguided.  I found myself falling into the latter camp.  Via their selection of ‘80s metal classics by the likes of AC/DC and Kiss, SATMO were in danger of setting themselves up almost as a novelty act, a la Nouvelle Vague.  Worse still, at times the wizard behind the curtain was too exposed, with SATMO’s modus operandi clearly delineated - slowing songs down way past walking pace and wringing them for all the emotion they can.

Still, owing to that voice, they just about got away with it on stage.  Their definitive Dolly Parton reading unfolded flower-like on stage, its scent of longing and heartbreak wafting under our noses, followed by the very apt “Enjoy the Silence”.  The curiously-moustached Qvenild was marvellously understated and unobtrusive all night until the moment one of his gadgets went native and started babbling incoherent garage drum breaks at us (much tweaking and unnecessary - if sweet - apologies later, they reperformed the song perfectly).  However, as Susanna’s voice leapt nimbly up the melodic ladder of Leonard Cohen via Jeff Buckley’s “Hallelujah”, I found myself looking back on the evening with some regret.  SATMO’s own writing, little evidenced here tonight other than in the first album standout “Believer”, is more than strong enough without needing the support of such overfamiliar material.

“Can you please be quiet?  I fucking mean it”.  So said Tys Tys’s Maria Laurette Friis, stymied by a curious reverse-headline strategy which saw her set begin amongst disappointing if predictable disinterest, with many men still recovering from fawning over Susanna to get their CDs signed.   And while her voice, very good as it was, was always going to suffer in comparison with her predecessor on stage, the music was strong enough to win over the chatterers before too long.

Tys Tys are unmistakeably Scandinavian.  They are 50% Supersilent (the keyboard sound, and the Arver-than-thou trumpet) to 50%, well, SATMO.  Emotive, melodic and lyrical songs would dissolve into fizzy drone - torch songs got torched.  Trumpeter Gunnar Halle is the star, sampling and looping his breathy brass, laying inventive foundations for the others to build upon, and coming back when the work is complete to knock it down with waves of electrical noise.  A couple of such codas were the most thrilling sections of sound we had encountered all night, their static charge illuminating the room with bright white.  Tys Tys showed the benefits of complete unfamiliarity, defying the odds to score an unexpected away win.