Magpie

Layered and shimmering, "Magpie" draws its character from the psychedelic baroque pop territory that Caribou has mapped across its most ornate work — production dense with melodic counterpoint, acoustic and electric instruments woven together until the arrangement reaches the edge of chaos before pulling back into coherence. The magpie of the title — a bird associated in European folklore with omens, with collecting bright objects, with being both beautiful and disruptive — gives the track its emotional logic. There is something acquisitive in the sound design, layers accumulating like a bird adding to its nest, each repetition of a motif adding a new element until the texture is genuinely lush. Dan Snaith's vocals are bright and pushed forward, carrying the sweetness of vintage pop without the period's sentimentality, as though the song is aware of its own charm and slightly amused by it. The cultural lineage reaches from the Incredible String Band through Donovan through the more complex British psychedelia of the late 1960s. For listeners, this is afternoon music — the particular slant of late-day light that makes everything look more saturated and slightly unreal. Best heard on a record player, with the window open, somewhere the birds can provide their own counterpoint.