Cloudland Canyon

Lie in Light

Kranky

www.myspace.com/cloudlandcanyon

If there's any musical style yet to be properly pop-ified for a new generation, it's ambient. It could be argued that any artist who either slicks over epic pop ditties with an airy and atmospheric glaze (M83, Sigur Rós) or any minimal knob-twiddler whose soundscapes offer a light and come-hither alternative to challenging drone (Kompakt's Pop Ambient series) is doing just such a pop-ifying. But not until this year's Lie in Light by the transatlantic duo Cloudland Canyon has ambient and pop music equally and even symbiotically coexisted without one style requisitioning itself to the other as in the aforementioned examples. With one half calling Brooklyn home (King Khan & the Shrines' Simon Wojan) and the other residing largely in Germany (Red Scare's Kip Uhlhorn), the otherworldly experimental team sing and play tangible riffs while deconstructing both, returning them to essential and primitive chants and beatless rhythms.

Intriguing both in theory and in practice, yes, but as with most heady new creations stemming from the correct collision of two diametrically opposed genres, it's not as easy to swallow as a synth-laden sing-along or a sugary and delicious instrumental. The band itself might not have even purposely set out for something so progressive; the opening track, “Krautwerk,” very simply says titularly and instrumentally, “we love the extended bassy hypnotism of Krautrock and the keyboard playfulness of Kraftwerk, and we want to share that love with you.” This is pretty easy to digest, even when the dark screeches of German versus English lyrics yelp across the left and right channels on top of the party-starting jam. It all sounds like a rich and fruitful nod to smoky and odd subcultures of the past until the second track, “White Woman,” turns the world of Lie in Light upside down.

The layered scrapes of guitars, menacing bellow of the organ, and psychedelic morass of vocals fully form Cloudland Canyon into a band more concerned with blurring the line between discomfort and meditation than painting invigorating yet still familiar scenery as they had with their opener. Over the course of the remaining five tracks, Lie in Light alternates between compellingly blissful joy and a frayed discord that holds it just short of attaining aural nirvana. “You & I” and “Mothlight Part 1” work successfully on two ends of the spectrum (bubbling electronics versus reverbed pop-rock) in equally effective ways, so we know genre limitation isn't a problem for the two musicians. Unfortunately, the disconcerting quiver of the title track or the mindless wah pedal in “Heme” fall flat and cold, failing to carry the load for the tracks.

It's maddening, really, because with further experience, the duo could surely refine its strengths and eliminate its weaknesses by following what quite possibly could have been the original impetus for the album: take two reliable ingredients, a dash of something of your choosing to make it your own, and mix generously and evenly. Bake until golden brown (never serve chilled or undercooked) and immediately dish out to fans of ambient and pop, never just aiming to satisfy one crowd. This kind of mish-mashing is a distinct combination of two styles: one known for embedding itself in memory and one known for embedding itself in relaxation. Cloudland Canyon should be lauded for their attempt at making oil and water mix, even if they can't quite achieve transcendence.