With this seventh studio album, Philip Clemo’s global artistic presence still isn’t as strongly felt as this Scotsman deserves, but his large ensemble includes key players drawn from widely-spread spheres, including Arve Henriksen, Theo Travis (of Soft Machine) and John Edwards.

Clemo is very much in control of the scene-scape, going beyond his guitar and keyboards, with sound design, field recording and general grand-scale production. The album is steeped in narrative filmic development, incrementally spreading out from brooding melancholia to a resolution of pulsing assertion.

Band members glide en masse, bobbing up to make signature gestures, then re-immersing themselves in the Clemo river. The threatening foreboding of ‘Stalker’ finds Henriksen misting inwards, all tendrils floating, then two minutes in, the slow doubled drums enter the scene, and the full ensemble stirs.

Recurring keyboard figures suggest time immersed in the Dirty Harry themes of Lalo Schifrin. ‘Maze’ opens up to the light, with a more outgoing sound, combo members catching the silvery glimmers as they glide upstream. Clemo softly arranges the horns, strings and bleeps. Stasis is explored during ‘The Frozen Sea’, forlornly drifting. And these are just the opening three tracks. Doom always sounds more exciting than glowing resolution, so this album works backwards, from full climax moving into the abstract dreamworld. Headphone listening is recommended for full spatial awareness.