There is an easy route out here. That would be to say that there is absolutely no way that Burst Apart could ever live up to its predecessor, Hospice. It is a slur that has probably already been thrown at The Antlers, and more specifically founding father Peter Silberman, too many a time to be of any use to anyone. It would leave my job remarkably easy. Of course, that is an impossiblity. It was always going to be. But from the off it’s clear that there should be no comparison between these two – if anything, Burst Apart is the perfect response to Hospice.

Hospice had deservedly garnered near universal acclaim for its strictly dark yet, somehow, ultimately triumphant narrative – a story that highlighted Silberman’s near untouchable ability as a poet as much as his startling musicianship. Its tale, while potent in its imagery of crestfallen love in excruciating circumstances, left enough room for objective interpretation. That allowed it to become ‘great’. It was an album that created a fan-base so avid that news of its follow up was always going to create an astonishing level of buzz around its release – buzz that could so easily have been harmful to the (now) band and their goals as the nostalgia of the ‘great’ that had come to pass before drowned the noise of the new. But from the opening strums of ‘I Don’t Want Love’, it becomes abundantly clear that the answer The Antlers have is one that is near impossible to rebut. It, if anything, is a perfect suffix.

Stripped of the earnest density of any concurrent theme, Burst Apart and its free-of-bedroom recording surroundings displays a band exhaling the life given to them in emphatic style. That aforementioned opener, for example, finds Silberman’s now near-iconic falsetto wilfully singing tales of reckless lust, unhindered by the still-beating romantic heart of Hospice. It’s a point only emphasised as the crisp plucks of guitar coarse through sister track ‘French Exit’, a song that finds the band (at least musically) at their most care-free and, dare I say it, happy.

It’s this resolution that allows Burst Apart to act as such a resolute partner to Hospice as opposed to a competitor. As the album progresses through the tripped out lurch of ‘Parentheses’ – a track driven by the convulsive, Greenwood-esque angles of guitar and, again, Silberman’s always timely and beguiling vocal – the drawn out melancholy of ‘No Widows’ and astonishing, echoed harmonies of ‘Rolled Together’, that same heart-warming resolution that accompanied Hospice reveals its magical presence again. The expansion into a more traditional outfit beyond just Silberman’s still prominent leading role have done nothing to deter The Antlers from their peerless sound and validate that Silberman’s accompanying musical partners add a brand new dexterity to the already near-flawless writing process.

That point cannot be emphasised enough. The Antlers, despite a back catalogue that spans way beyond the reverence adorned to their last two albums, have now become a band impossible not to dissect to the Nth degree. Maybe they have never been a band to be ignored – sure, some of Burst Apart could be thrown away casually thrown away as ‘background music’ (which, in itself, is a term given to music by people who don’t really care about music anyway). But it is, truly, the second half of the album – once it has reached it’s breathtaking halfway crescendo – that acts as a perfect display of just why they have become adored beyond so many similar artists.

As ‘Tiptoe’ subtly begins with its haunting, childish overture of hallway sounds before being strung along by an almost Twin Peaks-style saxophone song, a new sonic tale begins – one that is far more engrained with a classic ability to work magic through simplicity and breathtaking lyricism. It becomes immediately clear that Silberman’s new found love, whoever or whatever they may be, has given him a new lease of life; a new, life-affirming reason for being. ‘Hounds’ finds him at his most potently defensive, declaring “I want to sever you / Defend against you / I want to speak for you / As if I know what you’ll do”, a statement that finds our once forlorn anti-hero stood steadfastly in the wake of whatever has befallen him. ‘Corsicana’ could so easily be found amongst some of the most adored Brand New tracks of all – a band that hold that same heart-wrenching fandom and understated authority through their picturesque and sometimes blatant romanticism.

It is left to closer ‘Putting The Dog To Sleep’ to reaffirm everything that has preceded it on Burst Apart and Hospice. Its soulful, 60s swing could warm even the coldest heart – it is the slow dance to end all slow dances. And while Silberman’s opening lyrics of “Prove to me I’m not going to die alone” may seem on the face of it to be overtly and overly sad, it again proves how the depth of every single metaphor he uses are there to be twisted to different ends. His wails of “Put your trust in me / I’m not gonna die alone” may seem clear to the naked eye, but such a statement is nothing but a disservice to the density on offer through his words – not just for this astounding closing statement, but throughout the album.

Such statements and such a hearty review in itself may seem over the top, but they only go to scratch the surface of just what a triumph Burst Apart is. How it vanquishes the ghosts of Hospice is nothing short of spectacular and it is an album that is sure to cement The Antlers as an adored diamond in the rough for years to come.