It really says something that Dan Snaith confessed that he was really pleased with how Andorra turned out.  Given the general standard of his releases under the moniker of Caribou (previously Manitoba) it seems fair to consider him as not only a ridiculously talented musician/producer, but also both uniquely modest and ambitious.  I used to often wonder why Caribou never seemed to be as popular as they deserved, despite having a universally appealing aesthetic and psych-pop-groove style, and I guess it’s simply because Snaith prefers things to revolve around the music rather than the hype machine.  So his comment on being pleased with the album means that much more; rather than indicating the album’s success on a commercial level, it points to the music as coming close to realising its creator’s vision. 

The album kicks off with the, frankly, perfect-pop of “Melody Day,” both driving and blissful, with a chorus vocal line catchy enough to put even Battles to shame.  As anyone who has heard Caribou before will know, there is a strong but veiled hip-hop and dance-vibe to Snaith’s tunes.  This is equally present here, but surrounded by a rich tapestry of flutes, strings, and twinkling synths.  The production is as crystal clear as ever, but with more of a visceral feeling than usual, as though the music is a result of a live band rather than just one guy sitting in a studio for days on end.  It seems to be this element of the record which reflects Snaith’s intent beyond 2005’s Milk of Human Kindness, which, though fantastic, seemed to take on a whole new dimension when played live (anyone lucky enough to catch Caribou on this tour will know what I’m getting at).  “Sandy” follows the opener template but with a looser feeling, allowing more of this experimentation to shine through its basic structure.  “After Hours” takes this a step further, allowing the song to develop in an almost organic sense akin to the Beta Band at their best.

Another thing which should be mentioned is that Snaith appears more confident with the role of vocals in his songs.  Snaith’s trademark childlike tones grace the entire album, rather than select tracks, but they are also given more of an active role both in the foreground of main vocal lines and in blissfully layered backing vocals.  As a testament to this, the Jeremy Greenspan-lead “She’s The One” leads the album into beautifully (if shamelessly) crafted Beach Boys territory.  Unusually for Snaith, this track marks his first foray into sappy ballad shuffle territory, but more importantly it indicates a new side to Caribou, one more concerned with creating songs in the traditional sense.  Sure enough “Desiree” and, in particular, “Eli”, sound like Caribou attempting 60s songs rather than psychedelic-sounding tracks.  And while the chorus of the former is somewhat irritating (in a Pink Floyd “Apples and Oranges” way), the latter is pure genius, so shameless in its Beatles love that it could easily be The Apples in Stereo jamming with Olivia Tremor Control!  Acting as a counterpoint, “Irene” sees Snaith as equally competent when attempting an homage to Ulrich Schnauss.  Can the man do no wrong? 

Of course there are also strong elements of the previous album in here too.  “Sundialling” feels like a lightly glitched version of “Hello Hammerheads,” while closer  “Niobe” takes the building dancey sense of the predecessor’s “Barnowls” into a full on 9-minute-ish-trance direction.  But while listening to The Milk of Human Kindness alongside Andorra something strange happens; the former feels almost too calculated, too well produced.  Sure, it’s still a monumental achievement and basically flawless, but in the wake of Andorra the progression becomes that much more obvious.  Andorra is basically more human, more experimental, more personal, and more ‘live’ sounding, and this, surely, is why its creator believes it to be something of a success.

-Alan Miles