Daedelus

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Daedelus is like some gonzo travel agent, the kind who shoves you on a plane blindfolded, ushering you off to a secret destination. On his second solo CD, Of Snowdonia, the L.A. producer concocts a place where children fly on winged feet, clouds rain chocolate milk, and trees sing nursery rhymes. The price of a tank of gas is one funny dance, and the fish all have neckties. Someone seems to have invented a musical instrument that runs on carrot juice and rusted screws, which blurts out wondrously fast brushed drumbeats; delicate, spacey piano; woozy horn solos; and the buzz from a broken toaster oven ... OK, so Snowdonia isn't as twee as all that. But Daedelus does do a remarkable job of crafting complex soundscapes that feel like space-travel lullabies, weaving vocal samples of children's choruses and instructional records over prancing flutes, spastic beats, and blissed-out synth noise. Listening to this CD will make you wish he would book your next family vacation.