You know those great Cocteau Twin swishing choruses when Liz Frazer ditches the hackneyed refrain of an ‘ooh I luv ya baby, me and forever’ to swoon something almost unintelligible, but all the more beautiful for its opaque quality? Sometimes ‘caterpillar badminton periscope’ can sound a whole lot more magical than any linear bitch about your boyfriend. Fiel Garvie have captured a little of that, except they’ve printed the lyrics in their sleeve, which somewhat spoils things. All those coital slurrings lose a little of their ethereal wonder. In most instances, I’d just dispatch the lyric sheet away to where it safely belongs (out of sight). Even the most erudite indie lyricists are hardly Byronic in their abilities. Besides, in my ‘Purple Haze’, Jimi Hendrix excused me while he kissed this guy, despite anything anybody tells me to the contrary.

Problem is Fiel Garvie have packaged their new long player in such exquisitely decadent packaging. Even if ‘Leave Me Out Of This’ was a dreadful record, the fairy light photography and silver stars implanted on its cover could happily wink to me from the corner of my mantelpiece. But hey, what’d’ya know? It’s actually a pretty sweet record. Singer Anne quietly whispers over the mood indigo soundscapes in a way to suggest she’s not a girl averse to wearing a hairclip and for a band who can sit comfortably in your record collection between Mazzy Star and all number of post-rocker collectives, a warm bathing chorus bursts forth comfortably often.