For a man that's a co-founder of Unn Records, a label specialising in electronic music, and clearly a talented musician, it's taken a surprising amount of time for Denmark's Søren Andreasen to get round to releasing his first solo album. Barefoot Memories is a record created in what Andreasen describes as a "dramatic year" for himself, moving from Norway to Denmark and leaving his girlfriend behind in the process. Despite this, it's not an album heavy on self-doubt and gloom; in fact, it serves not as a document of upheaval but as a musical tribute to a father that was taken from him too soon, and childhood reminiscence.

There's something almost quaint about the music on Barefoot Memories; how it recalls the music of FourTet from a decade ago, how it pulls from Susuma Yokota, and of course the way in which it attempts to recreate childhood memories across its seven tracks. I wouldn't go as far as saying the music is childlike, but there is a charming naivety to be found here that balances well against the remembrances of loss. Fleeting memories might translate as a fluid line of flute or half-thoughts as a broken or stuttering burst of synth, then both combining to bring the whole scene flooding back.

Describing it as "folktronica" is cheap and easy (but hey, that's what Unn say about it), but we know roughly where we are when the cyclical violin opening of 'Hello Day' meets the jittery electronic accompaniment. It's a slightly misleading opening due to the downbeat nature of the track, but the pace is lifted by the playful twanging bass and flute of title track 'Barefoot Memories'. It's nearly an R&B rhythm at times, but the chiming percussion means it's never weighed down and allowed to roam. 'In Limbo with You' seems to refer to both Andreasen's relationship with his girlfriend and his father, and is suitably subdued via waves of ambient noise and a gentle electric piano line.

'Messy Boy's Room' introduces a trumpet to proceedings, and the track skips along thanks to the glitchy rhythms, but the faster pace doesn't always work as the opening to 'Being 7 and...' testifies to; it begins with a calypso video game vibe (think Monkey Island) but thankfully builds to something much better through layers of brass and a welcome yet vague vocal from Andreasen: "wasting all my time, wasting all my time / thinking about..."

The final two tracks are more expansive and really allow Andreasen to express himself, with the plucked strings and melodica of 'Growing Up I Guess' making it the best track on the record. When he lets the tracks breath rather than constrain them within three minute structures, Andreasen is really able to show off his talent - it's just unfortunate that it only happens a few times across the running time.

As debuts go, it's a promising start from Søren Andreasen and if he continues to develop like this record does after a few listens, then we can hope for future riches from him and from his record label.