Darren Hayman is one of the true talents of British songwriting. His tales of drunkenness, unfaithfulness, teen obsession and uniquely English manners and social interactions have seen him brought to the bosom of a dedicated following, many of whom were won over initially by the mighty personal pop of Hefner.

That Hefner were a band beloved by their fans and that many of those fans remain steadfastly faithful to Hayman’s work, whatever form it takes, is a testament to his winning charm. That Hefner were the critical darlings and oft-tipped for stardom during their initial run in the mid to late ’90s – resulting in their t-shirt slogan “Hefner: Britain’s Biggest Small Band” – is mostly overlooked in a revisionist history that favours Britpop over all else. Their booze-fuelled shrugs of scratch-guitar deviancy and tissue-delicate odes to shattered relationships were, for the most part, quite wonderful, hugely accessible and rightly celebrated.

Hayman has moved into the cottage industry, er, business of late, as so many cult artists tend to do these days, and as a result his work has become considerably more niche, often experimental as time has gone on. Last year he laid down the gauntlet to himself to write, record and release a brand new song every single day throughout the month of January. Originally available via his website, one year on we get a CD collection, ordered, rightly, as thes tracks were originally produced.

The album has many superb moments of both musical excellence (the insistent glam lead line from ‘Arthur the Dog’) and lyrical wonder (the chilling spoken word exercise ‘The Return’) and many of the record’s collaborations suit Hayman perfectly: he’s beautifully accompanied by Allo Darlin’s Elizabeth Morris on the resigned ‘I Know I Fucked Up’, takes a back seat to Valentine Leys on the wry ‘No Different For Girls’ and to Ballboy’s Gordon McIntyre on the sweet, dreamy ‘Isle Of Eigg’.

Sometimes it doesn’t work: the Wave Pictures contribution on ‘Who Hung the Monkey’ proving no matter the talent in the room, there’s no saving a truly poor song, and the same goes for the dull repitition of ‘Bad Bad Bad Girl’ featuring The Hillfields. Of course you can’t expect it to go absolutely right on every song given the hardcore remit of the project but for the most part Hayman strikes the right notes. His newer obsessions with escape, with driving, with the particulars of backroads and motorways is evidenced throughout, and the little steps into electronica like ‘Esplanade Drive’ may not echo the “classic” Hefner sound of yore but hold their own melodic pearls.

When Hayman hits his vintage quality stride it is a smile-raising joy, as on the wonderfully anthemic ‘Tired Of Gettin’ Dicked Around’ and the hilarious, sad ‘I Can’t Control Myself’; and there really are enough great, sweet moments like this to carry a 31-track album, even if this doesn’t overcome the issue of the album’s sheer length, which makes it something of a struggle to get through in a single sitting.

Perhaps, then, this is a selection box of variable treats to be dipped into occasionally for the sake of retaining freshness – sometimes you’ll get a purple one, sometimes that green triangle thing. They all have a distinct flavour, there’s something for everyone and, chocolate metaphors aside, this is a superb reminder of what a unique and valuable artist Hayman continues to be, with or without larger public interest.