"It is said that no two robins ever sing exactly the same," declares the homey, deep-voiced narrator of "Cheerupcheerily," conjuring 3-D nature images from a '50s-era View-Master. "Robins are like small boys when their voices are changing. Let's listen to a robin sing!" Offsetting such found-sound oddities is Broder's unique kitchen-sink approach to combining electronic loops and acoustic instruments (mostly guitar and piano in this batch) into fleetingly resonant, racket-happy shelters for shivering wildlife.
Much harder to pin down are the songwriter's lyrics, which evoke the perils of brokenhearted cloud gazing ("Under an Anvil Tree"), televised daydreaming ("The Girl From the Gum Commercial") and holidays ("What-a-Day Day") with equal indifference. And without much weekend overtime: Broder's first-take feel to this disc works well in places but breaks down just as often. He's better when he's mumbling baby gibberish like "Aw, crud, what a dud/A fuddy duddy/That's funny, that mummy/I hate you wall...I'm sorry, wall -- I didn't mean that at all" (from "I Call This Song Old Tyme Dudes"). Thankfully, the Minneapolis-based noisemucker still boasts more homestretch-chops than your average crate jockey. He's on Ninja Tune, after all -- trip-hop's last white hope.
One of the U.K.-based label's more curious Stateside acquisitions, Fog commits no cardinal sins on Ether, but works from such a different elevation and palette that the quiet, jungle-free approach takes some getting used to. He's more apt to mix an awkward pause with the refrain from "For He's a Jolly Good Fellow" (a laugh-out-loud moment on "Dudes," by the way) than to adhere to any trance-happy dance-floor schematic. Otherwise, it's as quirky and unique as the children's art that adorns most refrigerators. Fog performs Monday, June 30, at the Larimer Lounge.
