Without wishing to dwell on it for too long, Esben and the Witch’s inclusion in the BBC Sound of 2011 longlist has caused some retrospective bemusement. It’s not that the band isn’t worthy of some considerable recognition – far from it, in fact – it’s just that they sit so uneasy alongside their peers; in terms of both musical philosophy and appeal. On their debut album Violet Cries you would struggle to pull out one track that would flourish after being separated from its not-so-comfortable surroundings. It’s a consequence of a rather conceptual approach to songwriting and recording – the innate eeriness of subject matter such as death and disease being heightened by dense production to create an engrossing atmosphere.

Inevitably, they’ll be times when such an intensive proposition will prove to be a turn-off and you’ll reach for something more passive, or at least slightly easier to digest. But, for those occasions when you can afford the time to have your senses exposed and your conscious violated, you need not look further. ‘Argyria’ opens the album and leaves you under no false pretences with regards to the tone of what is to come. Lightly shimmering guitars slowly build to enflame an instantly palpable tension, before it relents as singer Rachel Davies cries out to the “strange metallic voices”. Such abrupt shifts in tempo are deployed throughout and it’s a tact which only proves to further unnerve an already edgy listener. ‘Marching Song’ has been in the Esben roster for some time and here it sounds as menacing as ever; thanks in no small part to its accompanying video which is now engrained on the retina.

Esben and the Witch place a great deal of emphasis on lyrics and reject standard song structure as they draw upon their post-rock influences. Such assembly means those breakthrough moments – hooks, if you will – take their time to find you, but the reward feels that bit more enriching because of it and ensures a certain sustainability. ‘Marine Fields Glow’ sees Davies’ vocals set free from the heavy guitar reverb and she finds a truly haunting pitch to make the most of it. The song culminates in typically spiritualistic fashion, as “luminaries” rings out to bone-chilling effect. On ‘Light Streams’ lies the lyric: “darkness fills my lungs,” an utterance which could easily act as a tagline for the record. The track itself lulls you in with a sense of deliberation before cruelly spitting you out – although the listener isn’t always afforded such a pay-off.

The band’s ambition is exemplified in their use of textures and reverb, managing to balance the bleak mood throughout with calculated bundles of chaos. Both ‘Warpath’ and ‘Eumenides’ seem to drift lazily before snapping into focus with some brisk, stirring instrumental. ‘Eumenides’ proves to be particularly powerful; unleashing just as you thought its moment had passed. It is these bursts which urge you to persist with Violet Cries in the initial instance. Its belated appeal and lack of versatility may prove to be too vexing for some, but for those willing to keep scratching away at the surface the detachment will disappear before your nail does.