Dungen's Ta Det Lugnt is the Swedish retro/garage/experi-prog's third release and it's alot to digest and quite frankly a tough one to call. Depending upon your source information it's the album of the year (pitchfork), or pretentious indulgence (EW). I'd have to say I find my own plumb bob dropping about right in the middle.

In the studio they're something of a one-man-band, with singer-writer-multi-instrumentalist Gustav Ejstes their 24 year old prodigy laying down the lion's share of the tracks. This fact, while impressive lends credence to accusations of self-indulgence. On the other hand there's so much here to be impressed by, that you have to credit the youngster with a prodigious knowledge of the music that he is tipping his cap toward.

Also impressive is the fact that, while he sings in Swedish, he manages to craft his lyrics into a meter that makes you have to listen carefully not to mistake it for English. He also touches on so many style-references that you might well go mad listing the influences that pop up all over Ta Det Lugnt. His vocals certainly remind of Sigur Ros, and when he breaks into passages of sprightly pop - I'm reminded a great deal of Soundtrack of your Life. It all has a rather loosely hinged garage sound, full of the kind of busy, fill-happy drumming reminiscent of both Keith Moon and Alan White.

While listening to this wildly diverse record I'm reminded of the old metaphor of the five blind men touching the elephant. Anywhere you might happen to drop the needle on this 13 song, hour plus creation could give one a vastly different idea of what sort of a beast Dungen is. Track 6 is a brilliantly structured jazz composition that reverts back and forth between a theme-based bit that smacks of Camel or Happy the Man, to sequences of free-form piano-based jazz, with flute taking the leads in a way that reminds more of Chicago (when they were the experimental outfit then known as the Chicago Transit Authority) than say Jethro Tull.

The problem with Ta Det Lugnt are the tracks like "Bortglomd" and "Lipsill" that you'd swear were written with no other purpose than to get on your nerves. Just meandering experimental noise, that only occasionally wanders into interesting territory like early Genesis or Gentle Giant. Then again they are both followed by tracks that restore your faith in their genius and originality. This is not an album for everybody, but for someone looking for something completely different, or old school fans of the experimental, jazz-proggers of the past this is a kaleidoscopic work of epic proportion that you might want to check out.