HIGH LLAMAS - Can Cladders

Psychedelic pop, if you please.

The return of the High Llamas doesn't say anything new, except that Sean O'Hagan's band is still capable of penning songs that, one way or another, turn pop into a matter of refinement and delightful joie de vivre. There's the usual Brian Wilson, there are the sugary melodies, the female choruses that open yet another path to a caressing, graceful sunniness, the carefully calibrated arrangements, never over the top. Fans will love it, and so will everyone else, though with due moderation, the sacrosanct detachment it deserves.

Either way, what's undeniable is that "Can Cladders" is one of those records that really hits the spot on a spring day ("The Old Spring Town"), with its indolent intimacy ("Winter's Day"), now chamber-like ("Sailing Bells"), now sketch-like ("Boing Backwards"); with its sweetest longing for freedom, a bit Kinks ("Honeytrap"), a bit Stereolab ("Bacaroo"), a bit Bacharach, as in the case of the title track, a placid, good-natured plod. All extremely fragile constructions, little marvels built with the appearance of modesty but, deep down, the offspring of a now thoroughly established, ultra-classic craftsmanship.

An album that doesn't ask for much, just a bit of attention, even distracted attention will do. You'll come out of it feeling rejuvenated, roused to new life, maybe even less angry at the world (actually, almost certainly). After all, when you're dealing with the doo-wop hints of "Clarion Union Hall", the crumbs of "pet sounds" scattered through "Cove Cutter (Hills And Friends)", the Ayers-esque delights of "Dorothy Ashby" or, again, the pocket-sized lounge-music of "Rollin'", everything else takes on, for a brief while, the look of a quiet little corner of paradise.

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07/04/2007