The fourth full-length record from Scotland's indie rock folksters arrives with a few question marks over it, and not only because it's their first to be released through -- the major label the band flew 's independent nest for in 2010. While the first two albums grabbed the attention of the listener with urgency and honesty, forgetting the notion of polish along the way, the third went for less lyrical heartstring pulling and more grandiosity. Polish was most definitely in, but 's loveable habit of airing his laundry in public seemed to have been put on hold. The omission of this key ingredient on made for a decrease in longevity when compared with fan favorite . For , the singer/guitarist welcomed the rest of the band into the writing process for the first time to share the burden. Producer would be a key ally too, reigning in their ideas to help create the dynamics that would give each song the space to rise and fall when necessary. The resulting record sounds as good as 2010's , yet pleasingly is also as lyrically affecting as their earlier work, if a little less bloodied and bruised. Managing to be musically uplifting within the most downtrodden scenarios, 's ability to build imagery you can almost reach out and touch is as strong as ever on . On "Backyard Skulls," you are pulled close to be told "All our secrets are smothered in dirt/Underneath paving stones/Lying waiting to be told," a metaphor that 's Scottish tone somehow makes sound literal in the way it has done since 2006's . Elsewhere, the driving, joyous "Holy" is a contender for the best song never wrote, while "State Hospital" is the only track from 2012's EP of the same name that makes the cut. It's one of the highlights here, boasting a great deal of space between instruments, allowing the refrain ("Her heart beats like a breezeblock thrown down the stairs/Her blood is thicker than concrete/Forced to be brave/She was born into a grave") to arrive with maximum impact, the guitars building among the reverb-drenched drums, with at his poetic best. Although produced like you'd expect a major-label album to be, there is nothing to suggest that wouldn't sound just as good in lo-fi surroundings. The songwriting is the driving force behind the album, and any reservations about whether or not would transform into radio-friendly M.O.R. are swept away, although "Dead Now" is a rare moment that passes by without much incident. As the playful guitars of superb closer "The Oil Slick" gradually mold into something slightly darker, along with the typically poignant "We've still got hope so I think we'll be fine/In these disastrous times," there is a sense that the band is more at ease than ever, and sounding anything but pedestrian for it. ~ Daniel Clancy