I dive into many, many albums every week and with this one it's funny, because when it first started, my initial anticipation was very much different to how it eventually unfolded.

The album opens with "Even Song", and at first I thought I was settling in for something abstract and ambient, which I certainly wasn't averse to. Then the guitar arrived with its melodic, repeated notes and I was already being drawn in. What I didn't expect were the vocals, sitting in a higher register but delivered with a dark, full bodied richness that immediately reminded me of early Anthony and the Johnsons. From that point on, I knew I was in for quite an experience, with the album's unrelenting atmosphere taking hold almost instantly.

Something really clicked for me with the transition into "More and More". The birdsong gives way to piano and my first thought was of Nina Simone's "Oh Sinnerman", albeit in a much simpler form. Along with the church bells, it paints a wonderfully vivid scene, but once again it's the vocals that command the attention, clear, measured and quietly hypnotic. The production deserves special mention too. There's a lot happening beneath the surface, yet every sound feels carefully placed, like deliberate brushstrokes on a canvas.

The piano once again sets the mood perfectly in "Daydream Unbeliever". What begins simply, gradually builds in intensity. There's a darkness lurking beneath the song, but the vocals don't deepen that feeling so much as provide a counterbalance. That is until the latter stages, when the strings arrive, the arrangement swells and the vocals almost disappear into the beautiful chaos surrounding them. Even the dog barking at the end feels like a deliberate finishing touch.

The next track, "A Mink in the Dust", takes the album in a different direction. A hypnotic fusion of drums and bass gives it an almost Caribbean feel. The layered vocals sound fuller than before, while what appears to be an oboe briefly enters the mix, adding yet another fascinating texture. As with much of the album, it's the sort of detail that really rewards headphone listening.

A similar hypnotic quality runs through "The Only Sound I'm Afraid Of". The arrangement is slower and more restrained, yet no less captivating. As it unfolds, the production gradually thickens, pushing the song towards controlled chaos before gently pulling everything back again, allowing a brief moment to breathe before the next chapter.

"The High Ranges" begins with a simple piano that sounds wonderfully imperfect. You can hear the mechanical noises of the keys as they're pressed, something I'm normally not particularly fond of, yet here it feels entirely intentional. Although there are lyrics, they almost seem secondary, becoming another instrument within the arrangement. Around two thirds of the way through, the song briefly resets before introducing a jazzier flavour through saxophone and bass. At first it catches you off guard, but before long you're completely immersed once more.

Despite its unusual title, "Slugs in the Marigolds" feels like one of the album's more conventional pieces. It fades in with hints of 1980s ABC, although XTC perhaps feels like the closer comparison, particularly in the vocal delivery. The song moves along at an inviting pace, while the occasional saxophone quietly echoes the previous track without ever overshadowing its own identity.

There's another beautifully judged transition into "Anamnesia", beginning with natural ambience before a simple tick-tock rhythm quietly establishes itself. Guitar and drums slowly join in, but everything remains anchored by that relentless pulse. By this point I found myself wondering how the album could possibly conclude. This felt like the emotional peak, and I almost wondered whether it would have been the perfect place to leave things. As the song gently winds down, introducing more woodwind before fading into silence, I wasn't at all sure where the final track would take me.

The final track, "You and Your Dogs", opens with piano, but there is something slightly off about the notes. Hints of intentional imperfection add a slight eeriness. This track features Laurie Anderson, who many people my age will remember from her smash hit "O Superman" back in the '80s. You could have bowled me over when I discovered that was released in 1981. Yikes. Her voice hasn't aged, though. I have to admit, I didn't really hear her words the first time around, becoming lost in the beauty of her voice. This track is a fusion of the music we've heard before, combined with her narration, poetry and post-rock sensibilities. It's a touch over seven minutes long, but it certainly doesn't feel like it. As the echoes of the track fade, I was in no doubt that this was indeed the perfect way to close.

What became increasingly apparent as the album unfolded was just how carefully sequenced everything is. None of these songs feels isolated. Every transition seems thoughtfully constructed, making the album feel like a single journey rather than a collection of individual tracks.

From the opening seconds, I knew this was an album that would resonate deeply with me. Picking a favourite track feels almost impossible because so much depends on the mood you're in at the time. What I can say with complete confidence is that there isn't a weak moment to be found here. I may be arriving rather late to the party with this being their eleventh album, but it's safe to say I've already become a big fan.