It’s been a while since Brontosaurus Chorus released their debut mini album in 2009, and the grace with which they’ve matured reflects strongly in their new material.

While enjoyable, You’ve Created a Monster hung on the coat tails of The Hold Steady and ushered everyone listening to join in. Leigh Kimpton hooted and piped on her trumpet until she was left in a fluttering mess on the floor; front woman Jodie Lowther shook from wall to wall like Sky Larkin’s Katie Harkin on helium. The overall finish was that of a band having the most fun possible while recording a collection of songs.

Their second studio album Owls waves goodbye to the most obvious of Brontosaurus Chorus’ influences and embraces a full production like it was never missing from the band’s résumé. It also pounds merry hell out of a strings section and laughs in the face of anyone who dares mention the term ‘lo-fi’.

Gone are the sugar-wouldn’t-melt duets and squawking, high-pitched vocals. Both pinnacles of the debut, their removal would be a concern if it weren’t for a clear development in penmanship. They’re proper, bona fide musicians now, and they’d like to distance themselves from any comparison to Los Campesinos!, please.

Take for example opening track ‘Prelude (Owls)’. A haunting narrative from Lowther aside, the music launches into a sonic explosion of guitar, violin and percussion, and follows thereafter with ‘Sandman’, a cleverly constructed homage to the gothic fairytale. The instruments are all in order, and they mean business. Songs like ‘Scissormen’ and ‘Coda’ demonstrate a threatening demeanour underneath the surface and prove that, if they wanted to, Brontosaurus Chorus could be done of the twee genre forever.

Sugar may not be on the menu, but the octet is still capable of outbursts of enthusiasm. Fuelled by a love for the macabre and desolation, ‘Ghosting’ and ‘Louisiana’ explain the band’s progression nicely, and ‘Annie’s Waltz’ falls headfirst into a vat of liquor, only to emerge singing a defiant ditty to the hours between last call and home time. Elsewhere ‘…And You Dance’ and ‘New Life in Old Bones’ carefully echo the harrowing loss of Monkey Swallows the Universe’s ‘Ballad of the Breakneck Bride’. Brontosaurus Chorus are far from a one trick pony.

Owls is an album made by a band grown up, and demonstrates Brontosaurus Chorus’ clear departure from the platform that launched them. It’s not so radical you’ll find yourself rubbing your eyes and questioning their sincerity, but it will certainly make you think twice about dismissing their existence in favour of their peers.