Sin Fang Bous - Clangour [Album]
 

Sin Fang Bous is the new alias of former Seabear frontman and Reykjavik-ian Sindri Mar Sigfusson. According to Sindri, the name is a string of nonsense words comprised of the first three letters of his name, a tribute to his fang-like teeth and …‘Bous’ respectively.

It’s a deceptively bewildering pseudonym as what lies within the 12 twinkling sugar-frosted tracks of Clangour will seem reassuringly familiar to fans of Animal Collective, Panda Bear or Caribou.

That’s not to say that Sin Fang Bous’ work is overly derivative – because it is refreshingly original. The opening track, Advent in Ives Garden, at first seems like a cacophony of scratches, sampled sound effects and 8-bit SNES-like synths that bring back memories of that little Italian plumber jumping head-first into floating blocks and pocketing the cash within like some kind of two dimensional cowboy. But under the wall of sound, there is a well structured, upbeat and exciting song in its own merit – and all this fits perfectly together.

Sigfusson’s vocal is hushed and intimate, but has a soothing, light-hearted quality –it’s six parts Bon Iver and half a dozen of M Ward. Throughout Clangour, the lyrics take a back seat and the vocal is used as extra instrumentation rather than a narrative voice or a means to convey a message - and this is critical to the success of Sin Fang Bous’ debut. It has a genuine, down to earth feel to it.

The party atmosphere of the album is interrupted by the third track, Catch the Light. The measured, consistent floor tom, tambourine and bass lay a more serious foundation which is built on by minor key acoustic strumming and distant piano ivory-tickling.

Musically, it’s a rousing, folksy call to arms – a mood which is betrayed somewhat by the unfalteringly relaxed Brian Wilson-esque vocals. This contradictory dynamic is analogous to a Braveheart prequel, where he and the boys don their fightin’ gear and charge off to Portobello only to have a whale of a time splashing around in the sea and having a bit of a surf.

It has to be said that there is a really personal and intimate feeling to Clangour. It was written, recorded and performed entirely by Sigfusson in his own studio and it has the hallmark traits of self production. Much like Grizzly Bear’s Yellow House, you can hear tangible love that has gone into its creation.

However, there is often a price to pay for being so closely emotionally linked to a project, and Clangour is no exception. There are tracks and musical elements which serve only to buckle the cohesiveness of the album.

For example, Melt Down the Knives is just over two minutes in length, but it represents a wild and significant deviation in style towards Eighties Matchbox B-Line Disaster territory. And the monotone Shaggy-like vocal element of The Jubilee Choruses frankly cheapens what is otherwise a lovely, organic, meaty track.

Overall, Sin Fang Bous have produced an excellent album in Clangour. A successful blend of natural vs electronic and noise vs beauty, it is let down only by a slightly staggered flow – a minor blemish on an otherwise ripe, charming and joyous LP.