The music is open plan, an index of possibility; a bizarre upbeat jumble sale of squirty tempos and bouncy keyboard, My Little Pony gabble and sunshine bubblegum cakes of tune filled with dozens of diversions. Hijacked Disney sensibilities whizzing off in jazzy angles, Mali-esque glitters and honkathon scribbles sometimes descending into a psychotically playful burst of atonality. This album’s a muddle of refreshing slants as an odd approximation of traditional is clamped by a tinfoil of Euro romp or bathed in a bit-crunched Hazy-Fantazy of Hawaiian simmer and musical spoons – love those periodic ruptures of backing singer too, sounding as if beamed straight from a particularly day-glo Tokyo children’s programme.Track six, roughly translated as “Palm Wine Drinking Cleaning vækkelses(revival?) Blues” is my favourite. Starts out all glints of Tropicana guitar with odd bird calls, a mellow trickle quickly injected with some lovely Sublime Frequencies jive, thrown into a mangle of cobra flutes and pounding percussion. Seriously powerful juju that’s suddenly cut to a Trumpton bob of mechanised heads, a toy brass and eastern swan song refrain of leaky sweetness. A sweetness that continues over the later tracks, where the folksy hues of lyric are filled with playful colourations running off hypno rotaries of melody, harmonic lilts that are either gentle Basho meanders, fingers playing snakes’n’ladders with the fret or chordy fanfares similar to the Penguin Café Orchestra that just seem to dance behind your eyes.
Bloody brilliant stuff and I’ve got a sneaking suspicion that Frisk Frugt has plenty more where this came from.