I Am Kloot - Sky At Night

Manchester’s I Am Kloot welcome Elbow’s Guy Garvey back to the producer’s chair for the first time since he oversaw their debut long-player, 2001’s Natural History. This, their fifth studio album, offers sweeping orchestras, saxophones, choirs and harps, and, in doing so, creates a lush, cinematic listening experience.

More than anything, Sky At Night is actually an album for the early hours of the morning. It is the soundtrack for the tail-end of an alcohol-fuelled night, where the planets haven’t quite managed to align, where half-glimpses of possible liaisons with the opposite sex ultimately amount to nothing. And, as the sun rises through the pub window, you have drunk yourself sober in the knowledge that you should have been in bed hours ago, but still, as you step out into the dusty morning light, the world seems a beautiful place.

After lead-single Northern Skies opens the album prettily, To The Brink is the best example of Sky At Night’s tone. “I raise a glass, a smile or two/ Well, this stuff strips the light from your bones/And I would like to leave with you/But I stay alone,” says vocalist John Bramwell mournfully over strings, like a singer in the corner of an empty bar, bowtie hanging limply around his neck. It is a magnificent song and, in its hungover introspection, plays like the bleary-eyed uncle of Pulp’s Bar Italia.

While nothing on the remainder of album quite matches To The Brink, the bruised, downbeat anthems here are evocative to the point that you can almost smell the stale beer and cigarette fug. It’s a strangely romantic aroma.