Caribou, another bestial bunch from across the channel and then over the pond in Canada already have one of the records of the year under their gleaming yet progressively more sweaty corresponding t-shirts. Strictly a solo artist, geek-chic mathematician-turned-psychedelic knob twiddler Daniel Snaith is bolstered by the most dexterous drummer since Donkey Kong, whose arms shimmer and flicker like fireflies shot over an open lomography aperture over ten seconds, especially against the brain-frazzlingly exotic kaleidoscope swirls that continue to compliment the Caribou experience effortlessly. Dotting older material amidst Snaith's latest stupendous long player Swim like a Euro coin lodged somewhere in a Glastonbury acre, the outrageous impeccability of just what a record it is springs to the forefront, as guitars largely replace the garish swooning synthesizers that empower the balmy Sun and the surging flutes, as the cabasa itches of Leave House whir alluringly. Album opener and retro 90s rave anthem Odessa is cruelly marred by a single bass string falling a semitone flat, although all's more or less forgiven by the time Snaith whips out his recorder like some Ontarian Pied Piper, and Kaili is as emotionally draining as a collaboration between Bon Iver and Casiotone For The Painfully Alone. The enervating discordance of Found Out with its confrontational pitch disregard is somewhat agitating and unhinges slightly what is otherwise the sort of spectacle only a Pitchfork pedant could flaw and as the dying embers of the forlorn Jamelia descend into a cacophonous amalgamation of kidney-rupturing snare clatters and trembling tremolo discordance, Snaith proposes, quite stealthily, precisely that which ought clog up iPods for the foreseeable future.
Gold Panda by brilliantlydifferent
