Kent's ninth studio album has the unmistakable feel of a band that has found its sound a while ago, but still enjoys it enough to not simply go through the motions.

The group continues to explore its mix of catchy indie pop and electronica, plastering simple guitar lines over straightforward dance rhythms -- or, occasionally, equally bouncy live drums -- and shrouding the music in layers of gentle, often intentionally primitive synths.

The output sometimes recalls the Killers and sometimes veers close to electronica-infused Snow Patrol, but only in a technical sense, as the music has neither the glossy and glitzy shine of the former nor the Celtic bombast of the latter, trading both for idiosyncratic Scandinavian melancholy -- emotionally restrained, pensive without being depressing (this is a pop album, after all), sparse and somehow elusive.

Kent are pretty energetic, and every now and then it feels like they do want to go all out, grab the attention, and make everyone listen closely, either by going sappy and throwing in some strings and female duets or by means of obtrusive choruses harking back to ABBA or disco -- but for the most part, the record remains too streamlined, unobtrusive, and easy to tune out of.

However, this is a good thing, because in the end, En Plats I Solen is music to get lost in thought to, at times fragile and ethereal enough to recall Sigur Rós (though having nothing to do with post-rock), and it delivers on its obligations without losing on pop immediacy at the same time.