Ants from Up There by BC, NR is more accessible than their debut: higher performance art ★★★★★

Then last year For the First Time came out, the debut album by the seven-piece ensemble from London – bang-boom – received five stars from the authoritative British magazine New Musical Express. Now they’ve pretty much invented the pop hype across the Channel, but For the First Time is really a very special album. One in which the urge to experiment and impressive musicality go hand in hand. Angular orchestral pop was constructed from diverse genres such as klezmer, minimal music and folk.

For the successor Ants from Up There have some of the sharp edges shaved off, making Black Country, New Road more accessible and dramatic. On paper it sounds musical cuisine sauvage as a recipe for chaos, in practice the songs turn out to be coherent in their beautiful whimsy. In Haldern Minimal motifs of violin, sax and piano weave a hypnotic pattern in which the melancholy voice of Isaac Wood is imprisoned. It evokes the tension of a dark Scott Walker accompanied by light piano arpeggios.

How the band keeps this exciting remains fascinating. They constantly temper your expectations and then let go of the musical reins, as in the masterly The Place Where He Inserted the Blade. The voice of Wood, who announced a few days ago that he was leaving the band, skips over from the emotional overload. A crescendo of despair presses on your diaphragm. In the end, you get your fill when the band sings in unison to glowing resignation. Higher performance art.