Whether under the ill fated Manitoba moniker or as his current incarnation as Caribou, producer Dan Snaith was always heading toward a work as grandiose as this. Andorra, the third album from Snaith and follow up to 2003’s mesmerizing Up In Flames, is an electronic masterwork that is as delicate as it is complicated. Snaith’s slight of hand production on Up In Flames gets swept aside here in place are ecstatic gestures toward Pet Sounds melodies and an emphatic energy more attributed to an eight piece studio orchestra than a hunch backed studio boffin wheezing behind dusty analogue equipment.

But steeping his intricate knowledge of musical production in ethereal Brian Wilson-esque melodies is not new (see Panda Bear’s equally heavenly Person Pitch) and it is not what makes Andorra incredible. Rather it’s the albums ease at being totally transcendal without being aloof and existing as ethereal yet ruthlessly focused that makes it really stand wide and tall. In a strong year for electronic ‘albums’ that are upfront and almost regressive in execution, it just might play at being one of the best.

There are sly references to the best features that defined the giants of art pop; Van Dyke Park’s otherworldly string arrangements, the loose jamming of Can and even some of the lighter experimental work by Scott Walker are weaved into the Caribou tapestry. Opener Melody Day, with its bright orchestral beams trying to break through an urgent clutter of percussion, could almost be Belle & Sebastian in a heavy mood and the most striking element is Snaith’s upfront vocals, no longer a brush stroke now a bold color. Immediate follower Sandy sounds straight from the Billboard top 10 circa ’63; proper Beach Boys melodies and sweet she-loves-me lyric lines drenched in equal parts of forlorn and optimism but the more ponderous After Hours brings in the surf drums to offset ghostly, aquatic key lines a musical contrast that is an effective motif for Snaith throughout the album.

Do-do-wah-do-wah sway and heart tearing melancholy rip through the gorgeous She’s The One and provide the albums most beautiful moment while the blissful and atmospheric accapella that starts Desiree displays astounding vocal confidence from Snaith and the sublime orchestration that it ascends into shows glimpses of mad genius.

Like any proprietor of electronic music, Snaith knows all about structure, pacing and discipline so as the subliminity of the album’s first half dissolves a more direct but no less powerful direction comes to the fore. Eli takes the recurring sunny dream theme but wraps in a cloak of crunchy guitars and marching drums that gives his sound a darker texture. Sundial is propulsive, ghostly electronic rock with a shadowed footstep firmly entrenched in the 60s garage pop of Zombies while Irene is about as close to the Caribou sound of old as the album gets; sharp electronic patters and Boards Of Canada synths bleach out wavering melodies. Closer Niobe is as far away from the angular surf pop sensitivity of the albums entry point as you could imagine with its explosive trance riffs and tense orchestration, it could almost pass for a ghostly interpretation of early William Orbit.

This makes for one of the reasons to go back and listen to this astounding work again, to experience the journey from such lush beginnings to darker territories but really there are so many reasons to fall in love with this album. For one, I don’t think I have heard a more beautifully restrained album this year that positively radiates with emotion and Snaith has come in leaps and bounds since the Manitoba days. Thoughtful, intimate and heartfelt music that is sorely lacking in our times, this is one for the soul.