Drifting in that Post-Dubstep Wake: Forest Cry, Drifter.

Late last year we got pretty ruffled by a certain Finnish someone going by the illusive name of Forest Cry. Original material had a tropical dub vibe, whilst a rework of The xx' Intro was caked in 90's R'n'B splendour. Forest Cry now returns with a promo compilation that's as cohesive as many a full-length and late last night it caught us in its swooning undertow. Entitled Drifter, it's a record meritorious of a spot on any coffee table, even if that means shedding Jamie xx' Gil Scott-Heron rehash from the Starbucks speakers. We get sent torrents of unsigned bedroom antics weekly, yet here is a collection of avant-garde tracks worthy of far greater attention than ours. Opening with the gorgeously mellow synth tinkering of At The Keirin, lounge levels glide atop Mount Kimbie-like backing and nu-jazz bass rumble, whilst Drifters' Stone is the sound of springtime storm clouds gathering above Saharan dunes. Drifter is a distinctly crystalline, elegant recording that by the time vocals reminiscent of Robin Pecknold permeate the latter you'll find yourself all but swept away in awe, aghast and gasping for air. Home shifts pitch frivolously amidst snippets of chart sample, whilst Invisible Landscapes is a potential chart-botherer almost as devastating as Magnetic Man's John Legend-featuring Going Nowhere. No mean feat for a clandestine artist from a country whose most recognised musical outpour is melodramatic power metal... Please Stay is evocative of Klavierwerke-era Blake before a vocal cut that recalls Craig David at his most croonsome cuts in, whilst the uplifting rhythmical swing of White Hawk rounds off proceedings wholesomely. There's sure to be comparisons with Forest Swords here and there, and Vale could just about justify any such correlation, evidently with Matt Barnes' Amazonian apocalyptica toned down a touch or two. A record to drift into, to drift off to at the Big Chill, Bestival, or any festival for that matter.

  Drifter by Forest Cry