Audio By Carbonatix
Kajak — the sophomore long-player from namesake/frontman Benedikt H. Hermannsson’s Icelandic easy-listening band — may not be the textbook definition of a guilty indie pleasure, but it’s close. The lyrics aren’t in English; the cover art looks like it was designed by your 3-year old nephew; the musicianship’s a smidge too solid; there’s no discernable edge, agenda, or strident non-agenda to speak of. Benni Hemm Hemm revels in the grand gesture, the sunrise-o’er-the-hill majesty, the rolling, orchestral swell that’s in danger of actually moving you (and Grandma) emotionally. It’s almost a matter of crackerjack pop cinematography: knowing when, say, to cut away from the Stereolab charm-offensive axmanship and drop in a doe-eyed xylophone solo or to smooth out swollen clumps of dazzling, heartstring-tugging brass. Kajak‘s restlessly rousing first half gives way to raggedy bashful balladry on par with that of Japanese soft-psych duo Nagisa Ni Te, as Hermannsson’s animated-yet-neutral voice turns inward, almost wistfully. Bonus: Unlike your noise and coke-rap CDs, there’s no need for a conditional listening appreciation lesson for baffled carpool mates or elders; Benni Hemm Hemm’s boundless exuberance sells itself.
Will you step up to support New Times this year?
We’re aiming to raise $30,000 by December 31, so we can continue covering what matters most to you. If New Times matters to you, please take action and contribute today, so when news happens, our reporters can be there.
