In this hyperactive world of Twitter, Soundcloud and the pre-release stream, it can sometimes feel as if artists have to scream themselves hoarse just to be heard over the incessant background chatter. In an age when any morning’s big news will usually be archaic hearsay by lunchtime, the modern music industry has become akin to an internet-based shouting match, where being heard matters much more than what’s being said. Whether it’s Kanye’s notorious lunge for immortality with ‘I Am A God’, or Miley Cyrus’ twerk-crusade, recent months have seen this contest reach new highs of cut-throat grandstanding.

But if that’s the case, then it seems nobody has thought to tell Will Ozanne. Gang Colours’ second album Invisible In Your City makes no claims towards immortality, and the videos that have emerged thus far are 100% twerk-free. Instead we find a record of understatement and restraint, constructed exclusively from hazy, washed-out electronics, echoing vocals and wistful piano refrains. This is an album where the fleeting and ephemeral take centre stage – and in this age of the audacious, its introspection provides a welcome solace indeed.

With opening number ‘The Rhythm The Rebel’, Ozanne sets out this vision. Awash with overlapping melodies and tangled rhythms, its a pastiche of so many interwoven threads that at times such individual components are hardly discernible. The lack of a distinct central element – a guitar riff, or a piano line – leaves you wondering whether the track is robust enough to sustain itself, and at times it does almost feel so fleeting as to risk folding under the weight of its own restraint.

But within this disparate collage lies the secret of Gang Colour’s appeal. The surfeit of space allows the listener attention to wander, to hone in on different components separately, one by one. Within the universe of Invisible In Your City, the music isn’t forced upon the listener – it’s offered out before you, ready to be approached.

Ozanne’s finest offering comes near the end of the album, with the lovelorn duet ‘Why Didn’t You Call?’. Ozanne often chooses to employ his vocals more for instrumental effect rather than for the delivery of a driving narrative – but the resulting chorus of otherworldly reverb has the side effect of masking Ozanne’s skill as a lyricist. But with the effects pedals toned down, this talent comes to the fore. Ozanne tells a story of a fruitless exchange of phone numbers, painting the scene with lines full of subtle, evocative suggestion, laid over his trademark scatter of drumbeats and plaintive piano melodies. Simple, uncluttered lines such as “the whole night talking/I couldn’t put a foot wrong” effortlessly place the listener within the tale, before Ozanne delivers the emotional right-hook with the poignant “I’m glad you found me/let’s get these numbers swapped”. Midway through the track the perspective changes, with guest vocalist Lulu James taking over the narrative, but the overarching design remains. The lyrics, always a touch vague, once again showcase Gang Colour’s genius – an ambiguity that allows the listener to involve themselves with the track, filling in the gaps with details of their own invention.

The demands laid upon the attentions of music fans has never been higher, and the determination of artists to make themselves heard has risen to match it. There’s a huge amount of solace to be found in this album – one that, amidst the chaos, taps you gently on the shoulder, and takes you away somewhere nicer.