Blueneck – King Nine

The fifth album from this Somerset post-rock outfit is a predictably expansive but surprisingly accessible set. That particular label, however, is starting to look like more of a misnomer than helpful journalistic shorthand, for King Nine displays notable enterprise and ambition. The muffled vocals and unwavering grind of the title track reference the classic slowcore of Codeine, and the percussive battery of opener Counting Out has a hint of Mono.

And yet, as King Nine unwinds and stretches, the quartet embrace a broadening methodology. Throughout, Duncan Attwood's quivering voice and layers of deftly deployed instrumentation (pulsing keys, plaintive strings, vast guitars) give King Nine definition and shape. Broken Fingers is classic, broken-hearted balladry. The jackhammer, industrial beats of Father, Sister would ensnare any passing NIN fan. Look beyond the wrong-footing packaging (unsettling, chromatic shots of Deep South detritus – abandoned diners, crumbling motels) and explore what might well be a career best. [Gary Kaill]