Caribou
Swim

Dive. Boom. A whirlwind of sharp droplets crashes against the eardrums. You feel them. The sensation is akin to what your stomach is experiencing after the incredible belly flop. Bass, powerful and distorted bass that is hard to describe. Perhaps they can only be defined as "liquid." Flashes of light come from the bottom of the pool. You resurface. Crackling sounds, perhaps bacteria playing bubble games inside your head. It takes a while for everything to return to how it was before you dove in. It takes a while to hear, albeit still muffled and distorted, the voices of the girls jokingly pulling each other's panties. And the musical background—perhaps a big commercial dance hit—coming from the nearby gym. Stroke. Everything gets confused again. The left channel goes back under. It doesn't disappear, it transforms, it darkens. Various sounds blend into a jagged low-frequency oscillation. Stroke. The ear comes out of the water again, and the cycle repeats.

This is more or less the initial sound idea of our Dan Snaith, known as "Caribou." Of Canadian origins, he moved to London to pursue his doctorate (PhD) in mathematics. But London couldn't help but influence Dan's music, particularly the one contained in this latest album.

Apart from the beginning, that is, the idea of giving a certain "liquidity" to the sounds, an idea matured—he says in an interview with Joe Colly of Pitchfork (April 26, 2010)—during a swimming course, the genesis of this album is not very different from other proposals released in the early months of 2010. The intense DJing activity in clubs and various influences from the dance world (the usual James Holden going around) led Caribou—although reluctant at first—to mix his ""classic sound"" with a more dance sound. If anyone now thinks of Four Tet (Kieran Hebden), they are in good company, and perhaps not wrong, since Dan and Kieran are "snack companions."

Everyone expected an evolution of that tribal kraut-psych from the previous "Andorra," but with "Swim," Caribou, without renouncing anything from his previous works, diverts us again, prevents us from understanding him, from framing him, from confining him and his music within a solid defined form. Because he hates music magazine definitions, hates reflections on musical roots, on influences, he would surely hate this review and, thus... he fools us with the liquids.