[review 2005: the disappointments]

The fact that The Milk Of Human Kindness is the worst album I hear all year should not necessarily be taken to mean that it’s a horrible album. Rather, its glaring sin is one many albums have committed this year: the sin of mediocrity. Perhaps it was the name change; while Caribou sounds a lot better now than it did when Dan Snaith first changed the name of his electronic psychedelia outfit, it may not be altogether meritless to blame Handsome Dick Manitoba for causing Snaith unnecessary stress by stealing the original name, Manitoba, from him. But more likely, it probably has to do with this quote from a Chart interview: “It’s just whatever the fuck I feel like recording… I just don’t give any thought to it. I just see it developing in the most random way.”

Occasionally this free-form approach to music composition works. But artists often work under various self-imposed restrictions because it focuses their creativity and results in a more rewarding final product. The Milk Of Human Kindness could have benefitted enormously from such focus; instead, Snaith’s given us 9 tracks of boring, repetitive material, and two songs that are actually interesting. The first is “Brahminy Kite,” which sounds like—get this—a song. The second is “Pelican Narrows,” which hangs its hat on a nice piano loop and some interesting percussion, but little else. More representative of the album’s malaise is “Bees,” a track that limps out of the gate and dies within fifty feet of the first turn. For the first three minutes, all we get is some half-hearted noodling; by the time we get to the actual beat, you’ve lost all interest in the song. And once we get there, the song still doesn’t actually go anywhere, content to amplify and decorate the original harmony (such as it is) with a couple of bells and whistles.

Too much of this album fades into the background; trying to pay attention to the album is like trying to revive a dead patient. Even during the interesting moments, there’s a faint sense that you’re not getting everything Caribou is capable of, that you’re simply settling for a pleasant concoction like “Brahminy Kite.” It’s certainly not an offensive record, and it’s not a stinker. But this could’ve been, should’ve been a better album.