Also known as a mild-mannered Doctor of Mathematics, Dan Snaith has always made for an unlikely dance star. And yet, 20 years on from his debut release as Caribou, the Canadian musician continues to be utterly deserving of the title, responsible for soulful electronic joints that unite serious clubbers and 6music dads in their devotion.
Both tribes were present and correct at the Roundhouse last night, as Snaith embarked on the opening night of a three-date residency, booked to showcase his excellent new LP. Proving that artists and AI needn’t be at odds, 2024’s firmly dancefloor-focused Honey saw Snaith harnessing the emergent technology to augment his vocals, setting them to some of the most kinetic productions of his career.
In person, these arrangements proved even more thrilling, skilfully reimagined by Snaith’s long-time live band, made up of multi-instrumentalists Ryan Smith and John Schmersal and drummer Brad Weber.
Interpolating samples from Marrs’ 1987 smash Pump Up The Volume, show opener Volume set the tone, its thumping, four-to-the-floor beats gradually morphing into the coruscating synths of Climbing, which were evocative of Discovery-era Daft Punk.
Without dropping the beat, they moved seamlessly into Bowls – a slice of atmospheric, gamelan-powered house from 2010’s Swim – before rounding off the section with a barnstorming rendition of breakthrough hit Odessa. The effect was made even more hypnotic by blood red lighting, frenetic strobes and psychedelic, two-colour animations depicting rotating 2D shapes.
Built like a particularly banging DJ set, Snaith and co segued between new and old songs throughout, building momentum beautifully. The psychedelic slow-burn of Sun gave way to the staccato vocal chops of Never Come Back, which in turn made way for the 80s-inspired energy of Over Now. By the time they reached the bass-y breakdown of Broke My Heart, the balcony was on its feet.
Honey’s title-track proved the night’s high point, asserting its club credentials via frenetic, nose-diving synths and the satisfying wub-wub of a filthy, speed garage-inspired bassline. And though set-closer Can’t Do Without You delivered ample spaced-out euphoria, the night’s fresher material firmly put paid to the notion that Snaith might be mellowing with age.
A timely reminder, if it were needed, to never judge a book by its cover.
