Caribou - The Milk Of Human Kindness (2005)

In the early noughties it seemed as if electronica was about to become the frontrunner in throwing up the best emerging artists. At the head of pack was Four Tet, Boards Of Canada, Mum and Canada's Manitoba. The latter's 'Up In Flames' (2003) was a joie de vivre romp through the mind of Dan Snaith. You could picture him in a small room with a clapped out computer dreaming up songs about crayons and living on a dirt road. A bizarre lawsuit over naming rights meant that Snaith had to rename his band Caribou. Thankfully the change was cosmetic only as 'The Milk Of Human Kindness' rivals 'Up In Flames' for musical sorties of the digital kind. There is a slight shift away from Spaceman 3/early Spiritualized psychedelia that so empowered ‘Up In Flames’ but the songs retain an abundance of melody delivered in an off-kilter slant.

As is Caribou’s nature the tunes come in two formats. The laidback instrumental with a hint of under-the-breath vocals or the elegantly wasted one without the humans. ‘Hello Hammerheads’ is an example of the former as Snaith hums his way through a notepad of love scrawls while a gentle riff supplies the atmosphere. ‘Bees’ treads a more distant time, the bass nuances are direct from a forgotten 70’s cop show, the wooden flute appears like a message in a bottle from the Isle of Wight while the incomprehensible words show us it’s a production from this planet. ‘Yeti’ is slimline, pared down Caribou. For once the extras are trimmed to leave a lean approximation of electronic cool. The looping keyboard drones add the necessary suspense but the guiding light is Snaith’s vocals that sit comfortably alongside the artificial flow. ‘Barnowl’ will have you howling for Snaith to get out of the grass such is the cloaked menace that it inspires. A Laetitia Sadlier type vocal augments the hypnotic arrangements. If all of this gets too much to take there are fragments of songs like ‘Drumheller’ to act as a sorbet before the next avalanche of ideas. The Mellotron designed violin sounds like the vinyl recording has buckled until the hopelessly gorgeous guitars swamp the glorious mess. And watch out for the cello plucks at the end, it’ll have you picturing Ollie, below zero, in the snow.

There are a clutch of distractions to rattle the taste buds like the 19th century Vienna alleyway cast off ‘Lord Leopard’ and the laboured ‘A Final Warning’ that while initially intriguing loses its appeal at the 5-minute mark. ‘Pelican Narrows’ is equally disappointing, like it should have stayed by the shore of that lake with all those swans. To counter these inefficiencies there are explosions of exhilaration like the wonderous ‘Brahminy Kite’ which floods the senses with enough beats to have drum and bass fans flummoxed. The words are minimal but perfectly realised and the assorted backdrop of squelches, reindeer bells and synthesized brass could surely have even the drunkest swaying in time. This is certainly one of the most fulfilling caches of musical compositions and every time you hear it you’ll feel like it’s your birthday.

Caribou are by no means tied to their electronic devices, seeing them live is an illuminating experience as the dual drummers whip the skins with such ferocity that all you see and hear is a whirl of hands and perfectly synchronised beats. There are guitars too, flashing in and out of consciousness like pleasant mushroom flashbacks. The live visuals supplied by Dublin's Del9 are also a treat, perfectly illustrating the music, adding dimensions you could easily miss without them. 'The Milk Of Human Kindness' brims with good tunes that are just begging to be exploited by a savvy ad man. It will appeal to those normally put off by electronica's oft intension to bury the goodies so deep that only the most ardent of listeners are fulfilled. The fact that the vocals aren't squeezed through a tangle of wires makes the music even more tangible. Caribou play it simply by polishing a good idea until it's ready to hatch, all the listener has got to do is enjoy the crack.

Rating: 7.5/10

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