Ellis Ludwig-Leone has a music degree from Yale and years of classical training. As hard as anyone may try to avoid them, this backdrop brings with it a number of pre-conceptions when entering the world of San Fermin; this is going to be an album existing on only the grandest of scales.

San Fermin was created in the solitary surroundings of the Banff Centre in Canada, which describes itself as “the largest arts and creativity incubator on the planet”. There’s more than the average amount of backstory in the creation of San Fermin, then, and this depth of preparation and history is evident throughout the album’s 17 tracks; it bleeds with ideas and imagination, which, when done best, end up melting together seamlessly.

The guest singers Ludwig-Leone has invited to sing on the record serve to tie down these classical compositions into nu-folk love songs, giving them a home in something catchier, poppier and closer to the bone. The folk-pop and the classical intertwine throughout, creating two worlds; a warm, inviting love story and a number of interludes that polarise, hint at violence, and move away from the tale that grows around them. These interludes do make San Fermin a stop-start listen though, and they can start to feel unnecessary and disjointed, but it’s only to be expected in a debut album with such grandiose intentions.

Jess Wolfe and Holly Laessig, from the group Lucius, essentially take their vocal duties in turns, helming a song each at a time, and conversing with Allen Tate’s gorgeous baritone. This creates a relationship that forms the crux of the record and lasts its entirety. ‘Methuselah’ harbours the triumvirate of gorgeous voices together, showcasing Ludwig-Leone’s grand visions. Wolfe and Laessig provide sublime, dreamy vocals, and Tate sounds like something that Matt Berninger and Zach Condon would create if merged together. These inclusions make San Fermin so much more than so many classical records; the ongoing love story that it creates is stunningly affective (even if it is one that reaches no discernable end – closer ‘Altogether Changed’ is one of many interludes that don’t lead anywhere or really challenge) and adds a depth and emotive angle to an album that could easily have been a pleasant but un-affecting listen.

‘The Count’ manages to come under the banners of shimmering pop, ballsy rock and a harrowing classical composition in its four minutes, perfectly condensing the sheer scale of Ludwig-Leone’s ideas into something constantly interchanging, but that manages to still be seamless. San Fermin also provides balladry (“Casanova”), a chorus (“Torero”) and heartache (“In The Morning”), all with equal levels of success.

San Fermin is a classical album, fitted with an accompanying tale of love and heartache. San Fermin is also a folk-pop album, set in a world of brilliantly beautiful classical instrumentation and composition. It sits perfectly in both of these guises, and for this, Ellis Ludwig-Leone deserves all of the praise in the world.