To slap a label like ‘Himalayan’ onto something is to evoke a specific feeling. The colossal range, and more to the point, Everest, spring straight to mind – it’s a desolate, rock-strewn abyss prone to blizzards, and death’s liberal with it’s touch. Amidst the natural beauty and clarity that isolation brings, the region is an icy tomb. So when Southampton’s premiere blues-rock trio Band Of Skulls dubbed their upcoming third LP Himalayan, they cast a blanket over the noises. Well, unless they mean the breed of cat, that is.

It would appear that they don’t mean the feline variety however, and the UK’s answer to The Black Keys veers towards an evolved sound for this record. They’re not reinventing themselves – don’t expect any Mariachi-trance or doom-hop – but there is a grandeur, a largeness, that they parade around on their escapades – is that their newfound knob-twiddler Nick Launay (Arcade Fire, Nick Cave, Yeah Yeah Yeahs) making himself known? Everything’s firm, confident and collected – it may lumber, but each kick beat and chord strum is definitely defiant. This is an album that struts with a dead-eyed glint; it’s an album that keeps a sinister streak simmering near the surface. When Band Of Skulls say ‘Himalayan’, they appear to refer to the brutal, unforgiving essence of the mountains, delivering messages of loss in its various guises; this is the kind of rock you yell from peaks until you hack up blood.

The lead single, “Asleep At The Wheel”, is sandblasted Queens of the Stone Age desert-rock. Their bluesy intent shines through brightly here – it’s a distinctly American tone – but they package that facet of themselves with some vintage rock titbits that veer towards classic heavy metal. It’s a riff potpourri, guitars wailin’ and flailin’, exploding everywhere like fractals hellbent on world domination. It’s a jagged cut too, with sections bounding headlong into others: in the breakdown for example, they wheel out a who’s who of ’70s nods, from Sparks to ELO to The Who.

The other single to be severed from Himalayan is “Nightmares”. This time, they gun for late-’80s/early-’90s arenas, with acts like U2 and REM rearing their heads. There’s little-to-no blues elements here, and this is sheer college rock; however, it is tinged with psychedelic hues, and the brisk chill they infer via swathes of reverb is incredibly relevant to the over-arcing ‘theme’ of loss/loneliness they appear to be nurturing.

The plan of action Band Of Skulls seem to adhere to is one that whisks through genres of the past, even if only briefly. On “I Feel Like Ten Men, Nine Dead And One Dying”, they sweep through ’60s surf-rock (James Bond, anyone?) and Biffy Clyro’s recent jaunt into stadiums. “Get Yourself Together” is has a britpop solemnity, like a Pulp ballad or something by Babybird. Others have noted Thin Lizzy and Cheap Trick in among the lick-based soundscapes. While they do tend to be a bit unwieldy when it comes to committing to one area of music, which is especially noticeable due to the elephantine gorges they aim to fill, they are adept at ensuring their core message (or what we’ve interpreted that to be, anyway) is unwavering. By sticking to their core tenet, they make an otherwise spaghetti-tangled pile of mess become erratic, unpredictable and impressive.

Band Of Skulls earned their stripes carting blues-rock around. While there’s still some of that on offer here, it’s in diminished quantities, and diehard fans of their previous efforts may find themselves unsatisfied. The swaggering Delta hooks are rationed here, and the band often find themselves opting soft touch to convey death and loss. It’s not depressing per se, but the record offers perhaps more introspection than prior endeavours, and it’s got a pinch of self-destruction chucked in. For fans of the band, there’s plenty of ‘growing-up’ on offer, even if they don’t abide their standard methods, and it’ll sit pretty near the top of their canon. Whether this is a Clyro-esque transformation underway, time will tell, but for now, we can revel in their top notch, A-grade rock cacophony as it is.