The first Caribou record since the Polaris Prize-winning 'Andorra' is a fine blend of indie, electronica and creeping psychedelia. Think a more experimental Royksopp meets a less-commercial Hot Chip.
Several years ago, Canada was seen as the hub of the indie universe, spawning world-beating acts like Arcade Fire, but also cultivating a diverse electronica scene that bubbled under and creeped onto the international radar. These days, it seems to have been usurped by the uber-trendy Brooklyn scene, but there are still some quality acts pouring from the land of maple syrup and sustaining its reputation as a musical nucleus.
One of them is Daniel V. Snaith, no newcomer to either the world of music-making, or critical acclaim. Under the moniker Caribou, Snaith's 2008 effort 'Andorra' bagged the Polaris prize – the Canadian Album of the Year award, trumping competition from Stars, Holy F*ck and Black Mountain, amongst others.
His first album since that victory exhibits a musician unchanged by critical acclaim. 'Swim is as robust an indietronica record as you'll hear these days. True, there's little amongst these 9 tracks that'll send you into a blissed-out tizzy, but Caribou is an artist that weaves together his songs piece by piece, creating a hypnotic blanket of sound that scratches and floats and burrows underneath your skin.
Opener 'Odessa' interlaces a trance-inducing, gurgling bassline with high-pitched slivers of sound and spidery electronic squiggles to impressive effect. 'Bowls' and 'Found Out' are both gloomier affairs, almost eerie, in a way; 'Kaili' is an inverted warehouse rave tune that skids and crashes across your headphones, while Born Ruffians singer Luke La Londe murmurs his way soulfully across the lovely 'Jamelia'. A pleasant record, with a heartbeat that intensifies upon repeated listens.
