I remember interviewing Mess Esque for the release of their first album and Helen talked about recording her vocals during the wee hours of the morning to avoid noise from the busy neighbouring main road. I’m not sure if that’s how she still does it, but the mood Mess Esque captures on their latest record feels very much of those liminal hours before a city wakes. Jay Marie, Comfort Me evokes the sentimentality and unease of a dream journal, melodies blown – teleported from backyard to bedroom, fidgety toes creasing sheets, traffic light lingering red.

The production throughout Jay Marie, Comfort Me is quirky and endearing, with Turner (head at fore-tilt, glasses bridge of nose) extracting stream-of-conscious licks with busy fingers. He somehow always fills up the right amount of space, the hammer-ons and characteristic plucks, chords erring on arpeggios, always contributing, rarely leading. Allegedly, it's all in the wrist. Occasionally reminds me of Zuma. Turner’s panned doodling is supported by begrudging percussion and well-mixed organ, horn, cello and occasional bed of distortion. Over this, Helen’s voice drapes, effortlessly flaunting infinite variation between the matter-of-fact and something-less-so, commanding the album’s crescendos with the same ease as its ASMR reprieves. Her voice moves assuredly but like the rest of the components, don’t shy from the dissonance or being so fussy about it.

Some stand-outs for me include: ‘Take Me To Your Infinite Garden’ embracing clank and gain and borderline neo-psych riffage for some of their sternest material to-date and ‘That Chair’ with Helen’s voice conjuring wonka-pure-imagination energy before singing with both hands stretched “take or leave me, take or leave me”. Mick, Helen, and their producer Nick Huggins (also produced the fantastic, and similar-feeling LP by Jess Riberio last year) have the dynamic dialled, and the result is as strong as their exceptional debut.