On his long-awaited seventh outing as Caribou, Dan Snaith continues to broaden and harness his musical scope.
From venturing back to Andorra’s ‘60s pop tinge to the genre-bending perfection of Swim, and 2014’s, Our Love – an LP that not only managed to further catapult Snaith’s name to critical acclaim - he remains ever-focused. His newest, Suddenly, revolves around a familiar ethos, but even as it pans out with quintessential moments under Snaith’s thumb, he somehow continues to entice and dazzle us just enough with his particular vision.
One of Snaith’s strong suits has always been his ability to adapt. Whether crafting kraut-centered pop, psych-fueled odysseys, or dancefloor excursions, it’s this willingness to branch out that has solidified his efforts as one of today’s most important figures in music. But even with that title, Snaith grounds himself with a certain level of care that spans his discography.
While the artwork, and overall vibe, hints to sunnier months primed for festival dates, Snaith immediately projects his vision. In terms of arrangement, flow, and idiosyncrasies, he’s no stranger to alluring his audience and here, we get the best of both worlds. “Sister” starts us out with a wavering synth line, one that struggles in and out of focus as Snaith adds coppery, electrified plucks. Tracks like “Sunny’s Time” echo Jamie xx’s supreme sample work while “Home”, a track debuted this past October is set to be a summer-ready anthem.
“You and I” shows just how playful Snaith is willing to be. In its four minutes, its straightforward play sprawls as we’d expect, but its course soon switches with sample-heavy nods that could turn any crate digger’s head. “Lime” pulsates as a throwback ode to reworked funk, one of Suddenly’s most welcomed moments. It’s his sheer tact and know-how in relation to upping a track’s potential and the embellishments he adds that make it so much more.
But while Suddenly’s highlight tracks buzz with upbeat glamour, Snaith is smart enough to tone a portion of the LP with their contrasts. Although short-lived, this is what made Swim so memorable. Snaith hints to a similar method on Suddenly – the quiet shudder of “Filtered Grand Piano” is the shortest track at just under a minute, but its progression is gone before we can even get remotely lost in it.
While Snaith includes these all-too-brief moments, he rounds Suddenly in typical fashion with “Cloud Song”, a reflective sendoff with electronic pings and blips manipulated underneath his ever-gentle delivery. We also can’t help but reflect back to Snaith’s mindset during Suddenly’s process – the theme of the ever-changing and the unstoppable; how no one is spared and how fragile existence is. Whether he’s totally conscious of it or not, Snaith offers himself as a guide of sorts. We’re able to latch on to his principles during times of adjustment – and with the proper amount of perspective, he helps us realize how resilient we really are