Roll Over, Jack Johnson!

As the dark months of winter loom over us, perhaps the best respite from these wet and dreary days is to swaddle our senses with an escapist, summery pop album -- allowing us, at least momentarily, to drift off to warmer climes and sunnier vibes.

So if, by mid-January, you happen to have the disposition of Jack Torrance, then drape a lei over your frostbitten shoulders, grab a tall glass of Pog and some macadamia nuts, and tune into the atmospheric and laid-back debut from Reefer.

Comprised of Montreal native Nick Thorburn (Islands, the Unicorns) and Los Angeles-based hip-hop producer/engineer Daddy Kev, Reefer came together in Maui with the goal of creating an exotic memento completely divorced from the duo's respective urban home turf. The result is a succinct and sedative mini-album that doubles nicely as a therapeutic cocktail to alleviate those winter blues.

Starting with an intro of scratchy radio channel surfing, Reefer thaws with a brief spoken-word lesson in Hawaiian backed by an unobtrusive hip-hop beat and the temperate strumming of a ukulele. Eventually, a blessed-out and balmy Nick T. pipes in with psychedelic non-sequiturs on the trippy, one-spliff-too-many joint "May Baleen."

Interspersed with the sounds of waves gently bathing the shore, snatches of stoned, midnight conversation, and more ukulele than one would normally tolerate, Reefer in total manages to produce a unique and highly potent sonic strain resembling a combination of Arthur Lyman, Ween, Grandaddy, and Les Baxter. The duo also tests its chops with shaky vanilla dub ("Hit and Run") and a xylophone-accompanied rendition of the Hart/Rodgers smash, "Blue Moon."

With the exception of an unwanted luau crasher in the shape of L.A. backpack rapper Busdriver, whose jarring whirlwind flow overwhelms the otherwise enjoyable "Crony Island," and a pair of superfluous remixes courtesy of Dntel and producer du jour Flying Lotus, Reefer delivers a relaxing and refreshing 30 minute travelogue assured to tame your winter angst and placate those frosty boreal blahs. Maui Wowee, indeed.

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