Broken Bells: S/T

If we decided to write a list titled 'Musicians Most Unlikely To Work With Each Other' then we're pretty sure The Shins' James Mercer and Danger Mouse would be somewhere near the top. Perhaps just below Adam Lambert and Toby Keith.

The two (that's Mercer and Mouse) previously shattered our expectations with their collaborative track Insane Lullaby, heard on the Dark Night Of The Soul compilation released by Danger Mouse and Sparklehorse mid-last year. Now, seemingly appearing from thin air comes an entire albums worth of music once again featuring both artists.

Mercer takes control of the vocals whilst Danger Mouse - billed under his real name of Brian Burton - helps out with production, instrumentation and backing vocals. Whilst the record is first and foremost a very unsteady affair, it manages to work: piecing together a melodically experimental venture filled with clever twists and erratic turns.

We begin with first single and promotional track The High Road which congeals both artist's ideals together into one playfully impressive introduction. It's retro and electronic but openly Shins-like the moment Mercer begins. Guitar work takes up most of the verse structure but is flooded with aged Pacman-esque blips and bleeps once the chorus settles in. It's openly poppy but cleverly so, which is arguably why The Shins work so well in the first place.

There's a schizophrenic element to the record that's obvious from the first listen and it's because of the conflicting artists behind the songs that allow it to stand so prominent. A majority of the tracks often battle between the alternative-pop heart of Mercer and the hip-hop soul buried deep within Burton. It's an initial fault that slowly grows into a strength as repeated listens ensue, forming a giant contradictory imprint of 'shouldn't work but does' all over the differing musicality. 

The synthetic warbles and electronic percussions of Sailing To Nowhere openly butts heads with the innocence of Mercer's vocals and though it's not necessarily a musical side that suits the man, it is freshly rewarding to witness. Then there's the simple-keyed sparsity of Citizen that pulses lightly with a hidden bass-line, the bubbly, jangling October that's earthed by a darkly impending aura or even the slow, fizzing Your Head Is On Fire that coats a decent helping of psychedelia all over its warm, electronic glow. 

The Ghost Inside lets Burton flex his legs a little more and opens with a catchy, Gnarls Barkly-esque rhythm; simple and repetitive yet openly effective. A high-pitched Mercer enters, lyrics barely intelligible to the ear. It's interesting and openly different but bogged down by an unimaginative chorus. Still, it doesn't upset the record and is over before it truly outstays its welcome. 

The deeper we go, the more we understand the reasoning behind the creation of the LP. This isn't a lasting project or a definitive record built to stand the test of time, it's just two friends, revelling in their musical being and sharing it together. There's no 'stand-out' moment or sky-high aspirations to speak of but instead, there's thirty-five minutes of enjoyably paced, cleverly crafted music that won't necessarily blow your socks off but may massage your feet softly instead.