Aereogramme

They have the glacial majesty of Sigur Rós, the swelling symphonic bluster of the Moody Blues, and a subtle metallic bent. Aereogramme are an intriguing Scottish quartet that combine an eclectic mesh of guitars and electronics with a variety of tempos and tones. At times, they will spiral off into the stratosphere over tribal drums and loose organ peals (“Indiscretion #243”). At other moments, they’re quiet and intimate, with violin cueing moody confessional mope (“Black Path”), or cold and austere, abetted by the throb of an electronic drum beat (“4 Simple Processes of Elimination”). Like a moody lover, there’s something unsettling about Aereogramme’s kaleidoscopic blend of atmospheric art rock, and it’s easy to lose the thread of the song (or the album) in the frequent set changes. You stay vigilant even as they’re lulling you to sleep with their oceanic drift, and just as suddenly, the spell is broken by death metal squealing (“Older”). It’s strange and alluring in its oddness. One day, they’ll smooth out the kinks and deliver a fantastic one-stop album that’s loud, soft, brash, subdued, elegant and primal — the entire buffet of sound. Until then, beware of getting your dim sum stuck in the manicotti.