Since the derivative but nonetheless lauded drone of their Anaesthetic album Maribel have disintegrated, reformed and returned as a physically very different beast indeed. With a lineup almost entirely changed from their Emil Nikolaisen-produced debut, band leader, guitarist and songwriter Pal Espen Kanelrud has rebuilt his Norwegian Nu-gaze army in a more effective and sometimes more sophisticated shape.

What’s sonically great here is the dissonant 1950s riffola employed on tracks like the twanging, horror-atmospheric Lynchian bar-room opener ‘Falling Down The Stairs’ and its second half mirror ‘Perfumed’, itself a clanging, sleazy slog boasting the knowing, shivering lines “Take me honey, please take me home/My little sweetheart waits up alone” – it’s a tearing little treasure.

There’s more of this swaggering slow motion rock ‘n’ roll on the shuffle of ‘You Bring the Sadness’, all rumbling guitar and torch-song vocals. Along with a couple of other ominous, chilling terror-sludge moments like the Cocteau dream state of the pacy, flailing ‘Meow’ and the JAMC candy-sweet stomp of ‘Jezebel Jive’, these are the most substantial and enjoyable moments of darkness.

Throughout, new vocalist Rebekka Marstein shifts between anonymous and prominent states, entirely dependent on the whims of production – a more consistent vocal presence would work so much better for them.

When they revert to more trad, obvious shoegazing styles as on the Cranes-alike ‘Pretty Nights’, a terrible, indecipherable and tuneless effort, and the comedically ’90s ‘Slumber Street’ which suggests a band with their eyes firmly on their trainers, a copy of ‘Loveless’ stapled under their arm, they can disappoint big-time.

Forgettable filler like ‘The Thief’ indulges in a bit of sci-fi sound silliness that’s only rescued by a whipcrack drum pattern; but then there’s the late-game album highlight of ‘Devil’s Sigh’ to be considered. Melting through their various admirable traits and employing each to its greatest effect it’s a memorable, feedback-formed, sexy, repeating delight.

It’s an album that follows neatly in the footsteps of the dark wave of Norway’s finest ‘gazers and also pushes the genre on a little – a good dose more affecting, stylish and filmic than one would expect, if not the total seachange for which one might have hoped.