The first time I encountered this Faroese group was at last year’s Reykjavík Jazz Festival and they blew me away with their eclectic exuberance and ‘anything goes’ approach to music-making. On this, their second album, the core quintet is augmented by extra vocals, percussion and a horn section.

Initially, I was somewhat underwhelmed; where was that energy, that spontaneity, that manic invention? Was the studio environment stifling their creativity? Did abandoning the charmingly ramshackle DIY approach of their debut self-titled album for a slick production and prog-jazz sheen kill off their punky free spirit?

However, on repeated listens (and digging into the meanings of the Faroese lyrics and song titles), it became clear that GØ's music had been refined, but not watered down. Certainly, the group's political concerns are to the fore throughout Ævir, amen: 'Loysing í dós' explores the Faroe Islands' century-long and sometimes troubled relationship with the 'mother country' of Denmark; 'VinstraHøgra' compares Left and Right politics to a children's playground; and 'Ivi á Tinganesi', with its striking horn arrangement, looks at Tinganes, the ancient Faroes parliament.

But fear not, you don't need to understand what GØ are singing about to enjoy Ævir, amen's angular, quirky cinematic soundscapes; just isten to the soaring title track; or the ominous and spiky funk of ' Á Skarv'; or the alternately atmospheric-then-bombastic cacophony of 'Svøvnloysi' and you'll be won over (even if it takes a little while). Expect the unexpected – and remember, don't go on first impressions… they may be misleading!