![march_09_[barnhus].jpg](https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a85f41eccc5c5e40df9daf7/1525813619132-6FKMNIP9I1SKV75DJ589/march_09_%5Bbarnhus%5D.jpg)
March 23, 2018 - Studio Barnhus
My first articulate thought was, “What do I want with either of these things?” But it’s not the things, it’s the theft that’s being offered. The sensual thrills of embezzlement against humanitarian tradition sits at the heart of this title. Shakarchi & Stranéus lost none of the playfulness maturing their single into its corresponding LP.
Since labor comprises the bulk of humanitarian tradition in the C.E., it’s safe, though certainly bold of me, to say Steal Chickens from Men and the Future from God reshapes personal responsibility as bohemian communion. This is not a career-track album. Shakarchi & Stranéus may well-have created a fantasy LP in which lives are ripe with meaning and adrenaline. A not-exactly verbal treatise.
Those enticed by the singles released in February will find much of the promise fulfilled. ‘Multi Orchestral House Sound’ opens the LP. Repetitive without redundancy, this first track introduces with eloquence the broadly borrowed genres from understated funk to latin-inspired pop with shoe gaze elements, which they no doubt brought along from their budding friendship as employees at a tapas restaurant.
Over repeated listens I can’t find a doleful moment. Without losing any inertia, Shakarchi & Stranéus have carved out an exploratory and youthful celebration. Crossing both borders and genres, an entire subculture of young adult European travel gains an anthem in ‘Hessingen.’ An intricate horn melody kindred to musical phrases present in arena indie rock climbs that falls over Caribbean percussion. The vocal inserts span from tribal chants to intimate but indistinguishable-to-me chatter. I wouldn’t even bother trying to describe this album without the words “Heart warming.”
It’s making me feel kind of crazy how overfull this album is with what I can only understand as a youthful exuberance. The art of letting go may be the silver thread on which the entire album is structured. This brings us back to the title. The men get on without their chickens, god gets on without its future. As quickly as latin funk is picked up and dropped, the groove is replaced with retro-high school waltz. Likewise, the men and the implied thieves move on to other chicken and to other futures. Discussing the individual songs is a worthwhile endeavor, but antithetical to the album. And I’d be doing a disservice. I don’t do disservices. ⛰️