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	CARIBOU CONTROLLING CHAOS

If you’ve heard of Dan Snaith, you’ve probably heard about his trouble with names. A trademark infringement suit last year forced him to stop releasing music as Manitoba, so he opted for Caribou. Not that either moniker stands for much. Up in Flames (released in 2003 by Manitoba) ditched the Warp-electronics homage of his debut in favor of ambling indie-psych. But it was still hard to make out a person behind Flames’ self-effacing wash of sound, which offered more dreamy sighs than melodies or words.

Snaith pulls back the curtain a bit farther on The Milk of Human Kindness, revealing a krautrock-infatuated songwriter with, for the first time, actual songs. But as Caribou took the stage a week ago Tuesday night downstairs at the Middle East, it seemed he was up to his old tricks. Caribou tour as a trio, and Snaith was off to the side of the stage, hunched in a hoodie by some keyboards and a drum kit. It was as if he’d hired himself to be a sideman. And most of the night’s vocals were pre-recorded. He just sat there, right in front of the audience. How long was he going to keep hiding?

The opening avalanche of drum fills dispelled such questions. Caribou’s live sound is built on pulsing atmospherics, but every time the keyboards threatened to twinkle into nonsense, Snaith and second drummer Peter Mitton leapt out of the shadows to supply synchronized kick-snare assaults. Guitarist Ryan Smith lolled up front, smiling absently at the projector beaming hallucinatory animations onto him; his grin grew sharper as he wove waves of distortion in and out of the mix. Stampeding over hazy soundscapes, thundering into interludes of acoustic sunshine, the three made Snaith’s Caribou visions almost tangible.

As the set progressed, the trio ran crashing around the stage, switching places and picking up new instruments in the service of the tilting sonic kaleidoscope they’d created. No song was complete without at least a few false endings. On the first live vocal, the mournful "Hello Hammerheads," the bluesy folk quality of Snaith’s voice conjured a prayer for peace. It was another unexpected twist in a night of deftly orchestrated collisions and controlled chaos.