#15: Slaraffenland>Private Cinema>The little engine that really wasn't sure what he wanted to do

Artist : Slaraffenland
Album : Private Cinema (2nd Domestic LP)
Release : 06.26.07
Year Founded : 2005
Label Name : Hometapes
Catalog # : 016
Packaging Type : Single-Disc Bi-Fold Hardcover Slipcase
Members : Niklas Antonson, Bjørn Heebøl, Jeppe Skjold, Christian Taagehøj, Mike Taagehøj
Runtime : 50:26
Area Tour Dates : None at time of publication
Sound Season :
iTunes Worthy Tracks : Show Me the Way, Watch Out
Sounds Like : Broken Social Scene Broken Social Scene
Rating : B-

Also the name of an amusement park in Denmark, Slaraffenland means "land of milk and honey," and the art of Private Cinema is laden with odd, but nonetheless adorable creatures happily carousing across a starkly grassy landscape, with all the charm of the classic Golden Books.

The band begins the album, however, with "Sleep Tight," which — ironically — is a dark and moody prelude. A giant dark cloud suddenly sweeps into view, engulfing the once brightly-colored and idyllic cartoon landscape, turning the cute and fuzzy creatures into deformed, flesh-hungry abominations. But as a flute flutters, one gets the sense that there is a survivor among them — that there is yet hope for the syrupy sweet and inherent goodness of the cute-sy woot-sy. And, indeed, the track does end on a light note. The horns herald the dawning of a new day. The world has been changed, but life continues.

There is no grand moment of overcoming though. No triumph. This world is doomed to live in the shadow of its former self. "Watch Out" makes that alarmingly clear with its instruction to "run for cover," its caution that "out there you'll get hurt" and its exclamations of "better watch out!"

Most often Slaraffenland's vocals, like in "Show Me the Way," are more like chanting. There's only maybe four to eight lines of lyrics often repeated twice. There is no singular voice, no frontman, and they contain no personal investment and no narrative. The vocals act more as texture and to keep the listener from floating off into the music's broad openness. Stylistically, the music could be compared to Broken Social Scene, especially on a track like "Polaroids." It is dense, often primal, exotic, and energetically anxious. But the mood is entirely different. Replace the spontaneous joyousness of BSS with the haunting sadness of Sigur Ros and add in a paranoic and anarchic unease and that would bring you to the outskirts of Slaraffenland. Nothing like an amusement park.

Much of the Slaraffenland is incongruous unfortunately. It becomes hard to reconcile one moment feeling alone, one moment feeling safety in numbers and the next moment believing that those numbers may just be a figment of your crippled imagination. The opportunity for the listener to settle in to this record never presents itself. As if backed into a corner, the band flails it arms and launches projectiles — does whatever it can, really — to keep its potential fans at a distance. And although there is that frustration from being unable to penetrate Private Cinema's true meaning, there is still the intriguing draw — as is the case with any coded communication — of the story behind its suffering.