Slaraffenland - 'Private Cinema' (Hometapes) Released 25/06/07

Jazz-tinged indie epics from Denmark. Those very words could well be some kind of a launch code for a panicked rush to the exits. In the case of Slaraffenland, however, the only frenzy they should inspire is a hurried dash to the nearest record retailer. 'Private Cinema', as it happens, is an aural equivalent of the 'land of milk and honey' the band's unpronounceable name translates to - in other words, an exhaustible fountain of the good stuff.

The clumsy description that opens the previous paragraph demonstrates how near-impossible it is to summarise this album, Slaraffenland's first for US imprint Hometapes after two acclaimed domestic releases, in any meaningful way. Dedicated to dodging categorisation, defying expectations and throwing a spanner in the works whenever you think you've figured out the Copenhagen quintet's gameplan, outlining every unexpected twist, surprisingly successful summit of seemingly conflicting sounds and oddball sonic solution would require an essay-length dissection of almost every track. But let's keep this brief, shall we?

Essentially, Slaraffenland's chosen medium is the type of atmospheric, ambitious and experimental indie-orientated rock originated in the late-80's halcyon days of 'Daydream Nation', My Bloody Valentine et al, modernised by the likes of 'OK Computer' and 'Ladies and Gentlemen We Are Floating in Space' and propelled headfirst to the 21st century by the restless genre-hopping perfected by Deerhoof, Animal Collective and Akron/Family. By throwing electronica, post-rock build-ups ala Godspeed You! Black Emperor and, crucially, plentiful use of jazz brass & woodwinds high in the mix and insisting on avoiding easy options in composition and performance alike, however, Slaraffenland end up with a beguiling sound so totally their own it's probably destined to put some listeners off.

That's not to say some familiar reference points don't raise their heads, but it's the fresh combinations thereof that make 'Private Cinema' such a head-spinning experience. The endlessly evolving opening opus 'Sleep Tight', for example, could be Slint subjecting Disney evergreen 'Heigh Ho' to a twang-fuelled post-rock workout, ably assisted by the mournful horns of an ale-soaked brass band. The album's most straightforward moment 'Show Me The Way' throbs like the Flaming Lips floating in a vatful of avant jazz, whilst the stunning 'Polaroids' also evokes Wayne Coyne's bizarro bunch, this time in one of their expansive universe-hugging modes, infused with the off-kilter vocals of Velvets-worshipping Belgian art-rockers Deus and cool jazz horns, and 'This One Will Kill Us' wriggles and roars like Radiohead playing vintage Sonic Youth, or vice versa. Only some late-stage lapses into aimless noodling maim the album's faultless figure.

Want relaxing, soothing musical wallpaper? Go elsewhere. In the market for an overflowing current of ideas and innovation that doesn't forget to bring the essentials - tunes, warmth, depth - to the table? This is one flick you'll want to view over and over again.