Röyksopp‘s fourth album Senior begins with a choice. Recall – if you will – the pill scene in The Matrix. The opener here, ‘And The Forest Began to Sing’ soundtracks you settling into that comfortable leather armchair, ready for what is to come. Right afterwards, ‘Tricky Two’ represents the choice. This warped, strung-out version of a familiar love is Röyksopp’s way of telling you that if things have become too strange for you, you can turn back, wake up and everything will be as it was. Or, you can carry on, you can see “how deep the rabbit hole goes”.

‘Tricky Two’ is a new expansion of ‘Tricky Tricky’, a song from Senior‘s counterpart and predecessor Junior, one of the best and most uplifting pop records of last year. From the beginning, Junior and Senior were to be a set, this second part originally also planned for release in 2009, making its actual appearance the best part of nine months late. Fortunately, Svein Berge and Torbjørn Brundtland’s self-confessed uncontrollable perfectionism has paid off in spades. Just as ‘Tricky Two’ is a longer, more atmospheric and labyrinthine instrumental version of ‘Tricky Tricky’, Senior is a more “withdrawn, introspective” and primarily ambient successor to Junior. It’s for this reason that ‘Tricky Two’ represents such an important junction point; soon after it, some listeners will feel a little alienated by this record’s altogether more indirect approach, while others will be drawn in by its intricate mystique as much as they were by Junior‘s gleeful bounce.

As with waking up from the Matrix, readjusting to Röyksopp’s new world can be a lonely experience. Whilst the last record was packed with guest vocalists from Lykki Li to Robyn, Senior‘s cavernous, slowly evolving soundscapes see Berge and Brundtland striking out very much on their own. Even the titles imply isolation, not least that of “The Fear”, one of the strongest pieces on the album which without apparent effort, fills seven minutes with ingeniously morphing synths, propped up by some of the album’s biggest beats but dominated in its latter stages by a synth line jerking with propulsive paranoia. After that, the album slips once more into the yawning abyss, climbing out again for the calm, chiming “Going Home”, with its woodblock beats and warm, wavebreak buzz for a backdrop.

Röyksopp’s immaculate pop sensibilities remain their trump card. Whilst on Junior these melodic gifts allowed Berge and Brundtland to construct the scaffolding for the skyscraping pop of something as gripping as “Vision One”, on Senior those same gifts are used to keep the album’s feet on the ground, preventing it from drifting away into the ambient murk. However dreamily submerged the throb of “The Drug” may be, the beats on the surface are always tactile enough for the song as a whole to always remain tangible, in some way accessible. Senior may be a wind-down album but Röyksopp are intelligent and talented enough to ensure that it takes us with it, never leaving us behind.

However, like The Matrix Röyksopp’s new record is not all things to all people. It is as introspective as that film is kinetic; by its very nature Senior is a good deal harder to get behind to than its energetic little brother, and with some justification a whole section of listeners simply won’t get behind it. But for those who choose the red pill, this wonderfully measured and absorbing set of tracks will reveal itself as a subtle, poised and superbly realised album. Röyksopp’s whole new world is definitely one worth waking up to.