Words by: David James Young
For the past 20 years, Dan Snaith has cultivated his own unique universe on the dance floor under the Caribou moniker. In a scene often crowded with trends, Snaith has always stayed true to electronica and dance music that serves as a true alternative to the typical nightclub experience. The line between experimental abrasion and deep melodic euphoria is finer than it may seem, and it’s a testament to Snaith that Caribou has consistently navigated this balance throughout its discography, particularly with modern classics like “Odessa” and “Can’t Do Without You.”
With Honey, Caribou’s sixth album, comes a portrait of the artist as a beloved veteran with nothing to prove. If Snaith were to switch off his synthesizers tomorrow, he could walk away with pride, having made his mark. Yet, it’s evident he’s still pursuing something greater than himself—especially clear in the album’s dynamic opening duo.
“Broke My Heart” stands out as the most urgent album opener in Caribou’s history, plunging into the fray with its stabbing house synths and clattering hi-hats, while Snaith’s chipmunked vocals drive the titular phrase deep into your psyche. And before you start Googling the song’s “featured vocalist,” spoiler alert: it’s him. He then then manages to one-up his own hook by unleashing the catchiest “doo-doo-doo” this side of “Tom’s Diner” over a volatile, wobbly sub-bass. The impact of these tracks is like being struck by both an unstoppable force and an immovable object.
If that wasn’t enough for the opening three minutes, the album’s title track launches things directly into the stratosphere. Snaith initially lures listeners in with a false sense of security, featuring light chopping and glassy keyboards—only to unleash one of the meanest, most explosive bass drops of his career. When it swings into action, it’s borderline atomic, crushing everything in its path and solidifying Snaith’s status as both a dancefloor messiah and an evil genius.
It’s an unbelievable high to start Honey on, but then Newton’s law kicks in. “Do Without You,” for instance, is an oddly-timed interlude with an odd title. Was he writing a prequel to “Can’t Do Without You” and got distracted? The 90-second “August 20/24” and the emo-trap reprise of “Broke My Heart,” titled “Campfire,” also feel rushed and somewhat messy, as if Snaith forgot where he was going partway through.
Thankfully, despite a few detours, there is a degree of consistency on Honey, albeit at a lower level of quality compared to its unattainable opening suite. In a perfect world, “Over Now” would have provided the soundtrack for a workout led by the late Richard Simmons: a lycra-clad flashdance fueled by a blood-pumping beat and soaring layers of synth loops. “Volume” holds its own as well, continuing the time-honored tradition of sampling Erik B and Rakim’s classic “I Know You Got Soul” (via MARRS’ “Pump Up The Volume”) and contributing to that expansive canon with a vibrant, idiosyncratic floor-filler.
While Caribou’s 2010 LP Swim remains Snaith’s magnum opus, Honey is still sweet enough to generate its own buzz, keeping Caribou at least somewhere near the top of the food chain. It may be an occasional treat, but it’s a delicious one all the same.
CONE Mag Score: 74/100