It has been a few years since we heard from Caribou, the project of electronic producer Dan Snaith, but one could argue we know more about the artist than ever before. While Caribou has been on the backburner since 2020’s vulnerable Suddenly LP, Snaith has been hard at work on Daphni, his more house-oriented alias. He released Cherry under Daphni in 2022 and introduced us to a more expansive and danceable take on his sterling pop sound. Between his ventures into new sonic territories and his more personal releases under Caribou, it feels like Snaith is finally opening up to the world and welcoming us into his imaginative visions.
On his new album, Honey, Snaith looks to bridge his two ventures into tight, glistening pop with neon tempos and flashy melodies. Throughout these 12 songs, Snaith takes us on a ride through dramatic EDM-style swells that explode and leave small flurries of blurring colors cascading around the room, introducing the listener to a new era of Caribou.
When it comes to an artist like Snaith, theatrical sonic shifts are inevitable. He is an artist who prides himself on never creating the same album twice, and Honey is Snaith, as you’ve never heard him before. While this set of songs leans more toward his work as Daphni than his previous albums as Caribou and feels a bit more conventional than anything he’s done in the past, a sense of freeing experimentation runs through the album. It feels like Snaith is finally ready to drop his shoulders and let the music do the talking, and Honey tells us to follow suit. While some of the album seems to borrow from tropes of modern dance music with stadium-sized beat drops and repetitive phrases echoing under it all, the artist harkens back to the previous Caribou projects to keep the technicolored outing feeling intimate. Honey is rave music for a party of one as Snaith balances his nimble pop tendencies with sprawling soundscapes.
In an attempt to balance his two worlds, Snaith landed on an infectious middle ground. Throughout the first few tunes on Honey, like the quaint yet bubbly “Do Without You” or the wonky title track, Snaith seems to be toying with this new sense of freedom, dipping his toe into the club scene. As the tracklist unfurls, you can almost hear the moment Snaith finally free falls into his lofty vision, and he begins to manipulate this new sound. There is a noticeable shift after track six, the short interlude-esque “August 20/24,” that unlocks an even more refreshing take on the nostalgic Caribou sound. “Campfire” brings in a ballad-like feeling, employing soaring vocals over wavey guitar melodies, while “Climbing” adds funky disco elements to Honey.
Listening to this album from front-to-back is essential to understanding the subtle narrative, but searching for a deeper meaning might completely juxtapose the fusion fun of Honey. This album feels like Snaith freeing himself of expectations and falling back in love with the process of making relatable and replayable pop music. As the songs on Honey become more experimental as the album continues, this underlying story emphasizes Snaith’s uplifting message. How he evolves this completely new sound amid his first outing exploring it speaks volumes about the unrestricted creative space Snaith is flying in
