By Russell Barker

Filip's second album is every bit as wonderful as his debut was. He eases you in gently with some delightful Bolan style hippy warbling on 'Whistling In A Shell', before he becomes Elvis in Hawaii for the brittle and sad 'Ohh Iceland', where he sounds world weary and broken. Amazingly he sounds even more lovelorn and forelorn than Jens Lekman on 'Blurred Afternoon' and on 'Trembling China' his lyrics waft spectrally over the distant hum of the tune. Some of the latter songs on the album sound like an understated Rufus Wainwright, especially 'She-Swallow' and 'Tan-Lines'.

'Crane-grief' is another wonderfully understated masterpiece.