Quiet Village

Martin Denny, whose fascination with background music and tiki bars inspired his exotica sound, wrote a composition in the mid-'50s called "Quiet Village." It incorporated the noise of birdcalls and bullfrogs into a laidback arrangement of quasi-ethnic music. "Eclecticism" was the watchword, and it's the rallying cry Joel Martin and Matt Edwards return with in their dreamy project, Quiet Village.

Silent Movie, their debut, is eclectic, for sure. But what isn't, in 2008?

The true joy in Quiet Village's music is the place it evokes. This is a shoreline with blues muted by dusk then enhanced by Kodacolor, which is to say, it's the place depicted on so many exotica records' covers. Quiet Village's take on the sound contained in their sleeves is more distressed, as if their copies are worn, which is not common to the first generation of exotica fetishists — like Combustible Edison, Stereolab and Air — who sprang up in the '90s.

But a rule sets in by "Circus of Horror," the second track: the less happening in the mix, the better. Because sample-based music is dependent on the artist's tastes, the more sources a crate-digger pulls from, the more he flirts with disaster. This high-wire act is part of the thrill of turntablism and plunderphonics. Only Quiet Village's decisions are sometimes weak and inessential. This is often the case with the beats, where the most likely percussion samples — like the bongo-filled breakbeat in "Circus," or the stutter-step break in the ethereal "Free Rider" — wait behind every four bars. This makes the album feel stale, rather than self-consciously retro. Think, once again, Air's Moon Safari, ten years on.