Boards of Canada's Music Has the Right to Children can be seen as the Kind of Blue of IDM. Mind you, I'm not comparing the quality of the music (hey, BoC are good, but they're not that good), but where the records sit in their respective canons. Like Kind of Blue, Music Has the Right is a record that appeals to people who aren't normally fans of the genre and rates exceptionally high for those who are. These albums of accessible excellence serve as the perfect introduction to a new field of music.

Which is probably why one of the FAQ's by rock fans on the hunt for electronic music is, "What can I get that sounds like Boards of Canada?" For a while I had difficulty answering this question. Sure, the Boards borrowed heavily from Aphex Twin, and much of their sound can be traced to moments on I Care Because You Do and The Richard D. James Album. Yet both of those records are all over the map and ripe with abrasive moments ("Start as You Mean to Go On", "Corn Mouth") that appeal more to those familiar with the beat-driven electronic scene. Music Has the Right to Children was a tightly focused, unified listen with a distinctive sound that never strayed far from the timeworn principles of pop. All said, it's a unique formula.

I've previously answered the BoC query with a suggestion to look for artists on Germany's Morr Music label. The two-disc set Putting the Morr Back in Morrissey covers a decent amount of stylistic ground but never strays far from the ideal of dreamy, contemplative electronic pop. As an added bonus for rock fans, artists on Morr like Accelera Deck and Manufracture don't have guitarophobia.

I can, without reservation, add Manitoba to the list of artists I'd recommend to BoC fans. There are many stylistic and thematic parallels (warm analog tones, sharp focus on melody, song titles like "Children Play Well Together"), but Stop Breaking My Heart never feels second-generation. The point-of-view here is unique, even if the sources are easy to trace. Where others in this vein opt for a hazy, nebulous cloud of half-remembered dreams, Manitoba's music is direct and unassuming while still remaining evocative.

Dan Snaith is the man behind Manitoba, and he opens Start Breaking My Heart with a reference to his motherland called "Dundas, Ontario". It sets the tone with a warbling synthesizer, some glitchy stuff happening in the distance, and crisp drum programming. "People Eating Fruit" is an early highlight, with the prettiest melody on the record and a perfectly executed air of nostalgia. The keyboards make me think of what I'd hoped Plone would sound like when I first read reviews of For Beginner Piano. Central to the track is a lovely vocal bit of children doing "me re la so, do re mi" like the von Trapp family on ecstacy. Things take an emotionally deeper turn when the voices are pitch-shifted to sound like a chorus of chanting monks.

"Mammals vs Reptiles" follows and comes as a bit of a shock as Manitoba dabbles in jazzy electronic fusion. The cymbal-heavy drum line could be lifted from an Art Blakey stomper, and a section of blaring horns (also sampled, I imagine) reminds me a bit of Spiritualized. As the horns reach a crescendo, the record clicks abruptly into the midtempo "Brandon", which contains melodic elements from "Dundas, Ontario" (Brandon is also a Canadian town). The spacious track is the perfect tonic for its dense predecessor, and it neatly illustrates one of this album's primary strengths: smart sequencing.

A good sense of design is necessary to make tracks like the cinematic "Children Play Well Together" (one of the darker shadings on the album, it contains an uneasy piano refrain and nervous acoustic guitar arpeggios) work next to the busy, percussion-driven "Lemon Yoghourt". The jazz motif returns for the eclectic "Paul's Birthday", which combines busy cymbal work, a melodic fragment on flugelhorn, harp glissandi, and eventually, a tough beat. Start Breaking My Heart may sound like a bit of a balancing act, but Manitoba holds it together and even makes it look easy. The term "accessible excellence" fits like a glove.

-Mark Richardson, November 22nd, 2002