Album Review: Caribou, Suddenly

The seventh album from Canadian composer and electronic wiz, Dan Snaith, under the Caribou moniker, is probably the warmest, fuzziest and most moving electronic album you’ll set ears on all year. Its theme was inspired by those moments of instant and dramatic change that occur in one’s life, altering everything forever after.

While he’s not clear on what exactly happened in his own life to inspire this theme, Snaith’s music throughout Suddenly is the most delicate and subtle of his career to date. It opens and closes gently, from the slow confessional of ‘Sister’, all stripped back keyboard and vocals, to the hypnotic robo-hymn of ‘Cloud Song’. In between lies all manner of musical madness, from the smooth cocktail-bar house of ‘Lime’ or ‘Ravi’, to the haunting ‘Magpie’, a lo-fi love song that almost whispers from your speakers.

The downright weird ‘Sunny’s Time’ veers from lo-fi daydream into urban hip-hop, combined with descending jazz piano notes. These discordant tones are back on ‘Like I Loved You’ – it shouldn’t work, but there’s something otherworldly and compelling at play here. There’s a decidedly ‘80s feel to much of the percussion, from the bombastic drum fills on ‘New Jade’ – which could have been lifted from the Top Gun soundtrack – to the infectious ‘You And I’, brimming over with washes of warm synths, Snaith’s sweet vocals, and samples of what sounds like children playing.

The easy house of ‘Never Come Back’ has club hit written all over it, while the magnificent ‘Home’ showcases a sunny, soulful sound, not unlike Play-era Moby, which could finally see Snaith’s brilliance cross over into the mainstream.

Dan Snaith is a hugely ambitious musician, with each album boldly venturing into new territory. Being able to join him on his journey is a rare pleasure. Long may he sail.

Out now
9/10