(Courtesy of Caribou)
It’s hard to keep track of Caribou. You could put on one of their albums back-to-back with another and be convinced that they came from two completely different artists. But the eerie folk sounds of “The Milk of Human Kindness,” and the dark danceyness of the newest effort, “Swim,” both come from Caribou mastermind Dan Snaith.
Caribou’s career echoes that of other strange music-makers like Animal Collective. Songs range from weird electronic freak-outs to melodic genius. Snaith has made his bizarre impulses work to his advantage on “Swim,” a mostly accessible album that has moments of utter strangeness bubbling beneath the surface. Whether it is the weird muted screams in “Odessa” or the almost-broken keyboard that permeates “Hannibal,” Snaith’s quirkiness has not been left behind in favor of a pop album.
Vocals sound like they are coming from a cold underwater cave, resonating deep echoes and foggy dark sounds. “Leave House,” sounds like some sort of creature is sneaking up from behind, moving slowly in the underwater murk as Snaith slinks away sighing, “don’t tell me what I should do,” as effervescent twinkles bubble up around him.
Opener “Odessa” is the obvious stand out on the album. Much like Animal Collective’s “My Girls,” the song takes everything that is perfectly strange about Caribou and makes it accessible. The song is brimming with sonic oddities that Snaith somehow manages to weave together into a sinister dance masterpiece. It’s hard not to bob your head to this track with its disco-sounding guitars chugging along and deep bass that feel similar to lurching on a boat. The combination of dance and macabre sounds leaves listeners dazed and seasick in the best possible way.
“Jamelia” is the perfect bookend to “Odessa.” It shows the influence of smooth electro gurus The Junior Boys (member Jeremy Greenspan helped on “Swim”) with its silky, shimmering synths and sleek, rich vocals. That calm atmosphere is quickly disrupted by an explosion of metallic keyboards and fervent vocals crying, “I can’t take it no more.”
“Jamelia” may be the most astoundingly beautiful moment in an album full of them. Maybe it’s just my partiality for anything dramatic, but the vocals are visceral and beautiful in a way that lingers after multiple listens.
Contact CU Independent Staff Writer Jenny Gumbert at Jenny.gumbert@colorado.edu.
