his record done confused me up. I recently reviewed another Shinkoyo release, which blended electronic and “real-instrument” music in ways that were interesting at points, but ultimately flawed. Here I am with another Shinkoyo release, which is sonically similar to the recent Skeletons disc. But The Sound Of Doves In A Cave, while far from perfect, definitely improves upon its predecessor.

The first track is deceptively simple; a pastiche of clear sine drones, echoed computer bleeps, glitchy crackles, post-melodic abstraction and randomness. No beats or traditional structure to speak of here. It’s interesting as an intro, but rather than suggesting the entire album’s sonic structure, it represents only the electronic side of The Sound Of Doves In A Cave. It’s like those little electronic segues on mum’s Finally We Are No One. You know what I mean?

After three minutes of that, a nice old-school Roland CR-8000 beat drops, and is quickly joined by guitars. These play single note patterns and bends that actually seem to emulate the bendy sines of the first track. It’s a neat effect, and sets things up for a bizarre unison vocal singing “The sound of doves, in a cave.” Although it’s not exactly a perfect moment in pop, it does bode well for the rest of the album to come.

The odd, wandering vocal melody appears and disappears spookily, while the microsound-ish sines, primitive drumbeat and surfy guitars bang on randomly. Here the true sound of this album is made clear. The songs that follow are weird, non-funky, folk indebted tracks that make use of dissonant synthesis and programmed drums. Many of the synth sounds are far too highpitched for some people to enjoy, but The Sound Of Doves In A Cave isn’t trying to be typically poppy or catchy. Instead, the point is to come up with some of the oddest pop tracks and start-stop patterns possible, and they’re succeeding admirably. The male vocalist declares that he has an amoeba: then computers begin to dance, guitars play along, keyboards wobble—and then they all stop…an echo… and then the computers hesitantly begin their tarantella again.

This is one band I’d really like to see live. Their electronic stuff is not dominated by a sequencer: tempos are loose and free. I can’t say that their music is something I’d like to listen to every day. At times it sounds silly and immature—but two seconds later a reaffirmingly pretty atmosphere is created. It’s been a while since a band has been truly weird in an original way. You owe it to yourself to listen to this album at least once. I’ll forgive you if you don’t listen to it ever again, but our relationship will never be the same.