Pensive emo vocals, broad soundscapes, Scandinavian metal moves, and just the proper dosing of laser effects all join up in this Danish group's sweeping rock. Considering indie types's longstanding suspicion of arena-sized tunes, Mew stand as an important antidote.
A cat walks through a forest, playing a fiddle. A swarm of glutinous, fleshy sea aliens with nipples for eyes come gobbling out of the deep. A column of electric space lightning spasms laser bolts out of the screen. J Mascis with the irises of a devil. Such are the weird, Coleridgian visions that crowd Jonas Bjerre's nightmares night after night, and varied are the ways he battles them. Some become animations projected onto a backdrop while his band - immense Danish space pop innovators Mew - pick their way through their complex and turbulent soundscapes from skeletal guitar arpeggio to universe-quaking crescendo. Others, like the baseball-capped mini-Durst of The Zookeeper's Boy, become the heroes of the poppiest song on 2005's most boundary shattering new album. (more on mewsite.com)