Check out the cover for Caribou's latest LP, vibrant and flush with flowers of varying colors and opacity's blended together to uniformly fit against a 2D surface. Nothing better defines Our Love, Dan Snaith's 4th album as Caribou, than this backdrop. Over the years Snaith's sound has defined itself time and time again, constructing itself in more secure, elaborate ways. Swim, his beloved 2010 release, removed the genre restrictions of IDM by making music that was both mindless yet purely evocative, built with irresistible grooves that could be appreciated on the dance floor or alone in your car. Dance music, at least defined by a singular genre, no longer exists and is basically sub-divided across a litany of forms, DubStep, EDM, and Trap just to name a few. It's why Caribou's music remains fresh, nothing existing today sounds like it, nor aims to. To most it's old news, it uses no over-powering bass, no pre-determined drops, or insistent build-ups, and yet, more than many electronic artists could hope, his music sounds the most exuberant. Our Love doesn't sway too much from this format, only further perfecting it, presenting some of the most inventive, unique, and downright filthy beats of the year in a pretty uniform package that lusts over love, relationships, and everything that makes those two inseparable.
While Caribou excels in aligning these poignant tunes and mastering them together, his true bread-and-butter lies within his heartfelt lyricism that bears itself to the tribulations a relationship fosters, something he's either been battling with or profiting off of for a long time. Snaith bears his soul while crying out for love, then denounces it within a moment's notice, not exempt from the problems at hand himself. Much like how M83 benefits off the same regurgitated topics of teen angst, Caribou calls out for songs of love, standing atop the cliche mountain of parroted songs throughout the years. He isn't using these messages as a means to get across a point like many others however, rather he divulges these feelings of resentment as they go best in accordance with his style of music; beautiful, deep, and shining. While some songs get by on their own production merits without the assistance of Snaith's vocals, others, mainly 'Second Chance,' lose all value when he's absent, this time replaced by Jessy Lanza in an attempt at heightening an R&B track with woozy synths. For the most part, it doesn't work, and nearly ruins all the build-up the album had going by that point. It's not because of Lanza's voice, as a singer her voice spans numerous pitches elegantly, but the meshing with the direct, rigid production that never escalates or transforms, drastically different from all other tracks.
Our Love confounds listeners between intensely paying close attention and losing their ligaments to the powers of the grooves. At its best it's one of the best dance records in recent memory, enthrallingly imaginative to what can be done with music given enough skill, patient, and creativity. Caribou's music speaks through colors, rather than dim grays, blacks, and whites used at telling the starkness of reality, he uses greens, pinks, oranges, and everywhere in between to escape listeners into a fantasy world where the only remaining connection with reality is love. The closer caps this belief exquisitely as Snaith repeats that "Your love will set you free," a reassuring notion to the artist's often depressing overtones. Our Love is filled with exuberant sounds, masterfully arranged, condensed and all-inclusive, sparking feel-good vibes through the speakers as your feet can't stop tapping, hand can't stop shaking, and head can't stop bobbing, while your mind remains unsure as to listen intently or entirely let go.
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