Manitoba - Up In Flames, Jacknuggeted EP, If Assholes Could Fly This Place Would Be An Airport EP
(Leaf)
Dan Snaith has made a record that you're not expecting at all. Regardless of how much you do or don't already know about Manitoba, there are a few facts that should now be addressed in order to provide a better understanding of the artist. He's done remixes for Seelenluft, The Notwist, Four Tet, and Mr. Scruff. His first full-length, Start Breaking My Heart, was named 2002 Electronica Album of the Year in the Canadian Independent Music Awards and was ranked #14 album of the year by the UK's Muzik Magazine in 2001. After such an auspicious debut, Mr. Snaith toured the world with his laptop before hiring a three-piece band to recreate his songs live with more traditional instrumentation. But these brief facts do little to elucidate the substantial sonic leap from his heavily folktronic first record to this nearly psychedelic (psychtronic?) follow-up.
The album fades in with a collage of instruments all vying for a lone place in the sun before a voice echoes backwards to the forefront, leading keyboards and a subtle guitar strum on "I've Lived On a Dirt Road All My Life." Sounds both recognized and unfamiliar pan back and forth before a seriously funky drum workout comes in, pushing the assembled pace along without disrupting the flow or leaping into your face. If there's a subtle difference between adding a beat to a tune and dropping one in full-force, Mr. Snaith must surely be cognizant of this, as the frenetic break becomes another element of the mellifluous melange instead of leading the pack outright. "Skunks" demonstrates how a single looped vamp can become the simple foundation of something much larger and more magnificent. Free-jazz sax squeals fight against several varying rhythmic patterns for a piece of the listener's ear, the swelling and sweeping keys creating an added tension that might be overlooked while concentrating on the countless other fragments to be discerned within the song. "Hendrix With Ko" features vocal contributions from Koushik Ghosh, another name to watch out for from the Toronto area (his Battle Times 7" EP on Text Records is an amazing single). Harps and pianos glisten upward and downward over a steady groove before the verse begins, drenched in reverb and sounding distant, picking up even more momentum by adding handclaps or hand drums to the busy mix. Examples of the innumerable noises that can also be found include, what might be paper crumpling, air being slowly released from a balloon (or is that the sound of someone puckering up for a kiss?), a metal hinge opening and a zipper. Honestly, it's nearly impossible to isolate the various components of this rather dense production, but that impenetrability only serves to strengthen the overwhelming beauty of this record, each piece falling into place to create an elaborate and breathtaking picture.
The first single from the record, "Jacknuggeted," opens with strings and an understated handclap accompanying a vocal recitation of "again/under/over/wonder." An extended organ swell introduces cymbals washing over an upbeat guitar strum before giving way to the vocals once more, but there is a conspicuous absence of bass on this track, which I didn't quite notice at first. A brief interlude, "Why The Long Face," sets up the second half of this musical odyssey, beginning with the remarkable cut "Bijou." Glockenspiels are overlapped and speeded up while a loping gait is ushered in unceremoniously before gathering impetus and carrying the tune through more changes and turns than I can detail. "Twins" opens with chiming guitar chords, possibly lifted from a 60s British invasion band, that are joined with what could be a marching band cadence, judging by the snap of the snare drums and tumbling toms. The groove ends all too quickly, with a mellow flute and sax outro belying the ferocity that just preceded it. Flute and sax are also prominent in "Kid You'll Move Mountains," paired with bird chirps and shimmering vocals that sound like the sun peaking through the branches of a shade tree to punctuate a checkered picnic blanket beneath. The drums thump and pound underneath this ornate ensemble, and the high-pitched glitch of stuttering samples can barely be plucked out of the thick grassy bed planted by the green thumb production. More lovely glockenspiel provides "Crayon" with an innocent and playful melody that builds with intensity when Koushik's singing brings with it a more driving rhythm and bass line. Once again, the track seems to end before reaching its apex, eschewing standard verse-chorus formats for a more direct climax and resolution. The album closer is an epic affair entitled "Every Time She Turns Round It's Her Birthday," featuring layers of processed vocals and some of the heaviest and fullest drum programming to date, pummeling the listener into total submission with throbbing fills and an assemblage of sonic mayhem that would likely be impossible to properly document. The faint click of spinning vinyl is barely detectable yet offers another slice of warmth on a record that couldn't possibly be any better suited for the summer months. This could be the soundtrack to an afternoon frolic in a nearby meadow as much as it could inspire a dance floor full of heads to nod, feet to tap, hands to clap, bodies to bounce. It sounds the way the spring sun feels after a long winter night.
The Jacknuggeted single offers three non-album tracks that are stylistically similar to the new full-length. On "Olé" a guitar strum is sliced and diced over an awkward drum pattern as an organ taps out the meter through many sections of starts and stops before everything falls away to reveal a smooth string sample below the surface. The ever-lovely glockenspiel is again evident on "Thistles and Felt," sharing the spotlight with a rhythm that seems to be comprised of foot stomps and handclaps. Perhaps the most ambient effort yet to come from the man's hand is "Seaweed," with an entrancing array of sounds and noises that effortlessly blend together to nearly hypnotize the listener. A single keyboard chord bubbles upward in the mix followed by other tones that compete for the ear, but then the recognizable components slip back into the delightfully droning wave, gone before they can be further identified. Of course, as with nearly everything else Manitoba does, there are myriad other ingredients sprinkled into this recipe, but they all contribute to the end listening result without making themselves apparent on their own, a classic example of the whole being greater than the sum of its magnificent parts.
Released as a limited 12" before the release of the album, "If Assholes Could Fly..." is quite different from Manitoba's newest output but not a far departure from his debut. The title track is an aural mosaic comprised of fragmentary samples strung together into a seamless high-energy dance cut, not unlike the cut-n-paste micro-house work of Akufen. Even the vocals are warped and reassembled as a thick bass thud percolates throughout. The flip contains "Air Doom" and "Ach Who," two more tracks in the same vein as the A-side, both decidedly more electronic and dance-oriented than the more organic feel of the album. While not as overwhelming as the new full-length, it is still far more creative and noteworthy than the majority of electronic music being released these days and is certainly worth checking out. With such a breadth of styles, Manitoba is poised to turn the music world on its head, unless its ears get in the way instead.
|
