It’s all a bit of a hazy dream, with rainbow colours drifting lazily across the subconscious as the music swirls on. It’s the definition of a bedroom project, warm and fresh and utterly comfortable.

The Year Of Hibernation, the first album from Trevor Powers AKA Youth Lagoon, feels familiar and exciting all at once, a deft mix of reverb-drenched instrumentals, androgynous vocals and poppy electronic sounds. While opener Posters begins as a peaceful swirl, Powers’ voice almost a whisper, it soon morphs into a catchy electro-pop blip that’s propelled by a mixture of sounds, without needing to consistently rely on vocals. His voice never explicitly takes the fore, so covered in fuzz that it often simply becomes another instrument amidst all the other stacked lo-fi sounds.

Cheerful whistles are coupled with a thumping bass line on Afternoon, while 17 and July trade in the dance-ready rhythms for a more sentimental and emotion-based approach, with more traditional instruments, like piano and guitar, introduced as Powers tones it down a notch. The atmosphere especially
builds on Montana, where sounds continually pile onto each other as the motif, starting very humbly, grows into
something much bigger than itself by the end, but retains its heart as Powers’ vocals remain unassuming.

There’s something very personable about The Year Of Hibernation that allows it to stand apart from other dime-a-dozen chillwave and electronic acts. You can see Powers hunched over in his bedroom as you listen to this album – it’s modest and yet utterly enchanting, equally suited for parties and lazy afternoons.

Out now on Fat Possum/Spunk

PHOTO: FASTERLOUDER

Without his usual backing band tonight, Ohad Rein’s Old Man River songs were carried by only himself and a loop pedal. Opening with Sunshine, on which he accompanied himself with the acoustic guitar as percussion, the ensuing performance was quietly charming in its modesty, and the man himself displayed an endearingly self-effacing humour in between tunes. Highlights included the insertion of a spoken word Kerouac recording in one of the songs, a sweet call and response section in Religion and a stripped down cover of The Flaming Lips’ Do You Realize?? Though some of Old Man River’s songs are slightly pedestrian, Rein’s sheer likeability made his performance convincing and enjoyable.

The spirited fingerpicked opening of I Won’t Be Found began The Tallest Man On Earth’s set, utterly entrancing from start to finish. Often called this generation’s Dylan (and that’s not an overstatement), Kristian Mattson writes brilliant songs that are stylistically simple, but arresting in their stark honesty and intimacy. His voice tonight rang loud and clear, with less of an obvious twang than its recorded self, and the sold out room fell silent throughout to drink in every nuance. Changing between electric and acoustic guitars, Mattson casually admitted that many of his songs were “fucked up” – the haunting Where Do My Bluebirds Fly was one such song, in which his emotionally strained voice, over the sombre minor key plucking, was heartbreaking.

Mattson’s songs do not change much live, but they don’t need to – they possess such an enchanting closeness recorded that when they come to life before your eyes, it’s like greeting an old friend who you understand every part of. He took to the keyboard briefly, sang gently in unison with the guitar on Love Is All and soared spectacularly on The Dreamer, one of the more hopeful and uplifting songs he’s penned that was even more powerful on stage. King Of Spain was one of the evening’s sing-along moments, and during the encore the amicable Swede bantered playfully with an audience member who was adamant to hear Into The Stream. She got her wish with a beautiful rendition, before Mattson closed with a cover of Nico’s These Days.

Music like this needs no bells and whistles to be utterly captivating – it’s deeply emotional and simply true, which is all that music should be.

Originally published in The Drum Media

Carrying on from the pop-leaning electronic sound introduced on 2008’s Saturdays = Youth, Frenchman Anthony Gonzalez’s offers a double album influenced by two-disc wonders like Mellon Collie And The Infinite Sadness and The White Album.

Signature M83 moves are retained – the whispered utterances on Intro, in French on Echoes Of Mine and the ostinato-driven OK Pal; slowly built layers introduced separately on Another Wave From You; relaxed atmosphere on Fountains – but he really plays up his pop sensibilities on this album, best explored on the explosive single Midnight City, which combines his echoing vocals with a synth riff that dances its way through the track, joined by an ‘80s-tastic sax solo approaching the end.

Claudia Lewis and Steve McQueen see some electronic acrobatics that evoke overjoyed feelings of freedom and height, while Wait and Splendor allow Gonzalez to create harmonic layers and slow the pace, as do spacey instrumental interludes. The adorable Raconte-Moi Une Histoire builds from clicks and a repeated key pattern to a child recounting an encounter with a magical frog, sounding quite like a G-rated psychotropic experience and inciting a real sense of freewheeling childlike wonder. He even echoes entirely dissimilar groups like Fleet Foxes on tracks like Year One, One UFO, where electronics are used in a more pastoral, lush way.

Hurry Up… is bursting with unique ideas that are executed beautifully, proving that a double album isn’t redundant in an age when attention spans are probably otherwise dwindling. Every second is a revelation and, when all sewn together, the tapestry is a dazzling dream world of its own.

Out now on Pod/Inertia