Efterklang – ‘Magic Chairs’ (4AD) Released 22/02/10

The days when Denmark was musically primarily known for Aqua of ‘Barbie Girl’ fame are surely numbered. Efterklang’s third – and first for 4AD, after a string of releases for excellent Leeds-based Leaf Label - full-length manages to retain the band’s trademark (florid arrangements that rarely lose their sense of purpose and direction despite regularly opting for the kind of abundance where chucking in the kitchen sink is just a starting point) whilst addressing the shortcomings of previous output.

Only someone with serious earwax issues could dismiss the charms of past works such as 2008’s mightily praised ‘Parades’. However, to these ears at least it’s occasionally been hard not to suspect that the Copenhagen-based collective’s songs – you know, those things with chords, melodies and words at the core of all those waves of strings, horns, choirs and electronics - have often been little more than a skeletal framework on which to build their dazzling, multi-faceted aural fireworks. As such, listening to Efterklang has been a bit like stuffing your face with fancy chocolates – a taste bud-tickling thrill no doubt, but one that’d leave you with a hollow feeling or, in case of a larger portion, sugar-induced nausea.

Recorded uncharacteristically quickly, and sounding winningly direct and effortless for it, ‘Magic Chairs’ is a lot more like feasting on something substantial such as spinach, with a side order of candyfloss and sparklers (only significantly less disgusting than that sounds). The sound’s stripped down only in comparison with previous output; the irresistibly infectious opener ‘Modern Drift’, for example, doesn’t get beyond first verse before the horns kick in, and songs show few signs of being chained to a radio-friendly verse-chorus. But by allowing the vast arsenal of instruments and elements at their disposal to serve the tunes, as opposed to the other way around, Efterklang unveil a real warmth and emotional resonance that’s so far at times been buried under the avalanche of orchestral flourishes. That the songs, whether upbeat bounce-alongs ala ‘Scandinavian Love’ or hushed whispers such as ‘Natural Tune’, are uniformly strong helps – you walk away from ‘Magic Chairs’ humming at least half of the songs.  
    
Not a million miles removed from a more jovial Radiohead or less rain-splattered version of the more grandiose moments of Elbow, with a dash of the playful showing-off of Sufjan Stevens before he lost his songwriting mojo and started pitching overcooked instrumental opuses dedicated to stretches of ring road, ‘Magic Chairs’ strikes a rarely satisfying, pop-savvy balance between ambition and accessibility. In a word, magic.