Having spent a high proportion of my formative years in various states of intoxication ‘dancing’ to the sounds of The Charlatans, there was a nostalgic pang of anticipation that washed over me ahead of my fist spin of Who We Touch. What unfurled over the next hour or so of listening was met with a heady mix of smiles, cringing and confusion.

Who We Touch gives a clear and immediate indication that the modern day Charlatans still have something about them. The band are (thankfully) not content to simply re-hash their former glories by recreating baggy anthems twenty years on – despite Mr Burgess sporting a rather fetching bowl cut hairdo that may suggest otherwise.

Opening with the noisy gusto of promo single ‘Love Is Ending‘, things kick off at high standard and with decent pace. The Peter Hook inspired intro sets the tone and then a bass line which offers a stomp-along beat. The chorus is strong and infectious whist Burgess’ vocals are as mellow and endearing as ever.

‘Trust In Desire’ is a definite high. Fuelled by backwards loops, a toe-tapping beat and a soaring chorus, this is surely to be earmarked as an upcoming single. Elsewhere, the delicately melodic ‘Intimacy’ simply should not work, but somehow with Burgess’ lullaby vocal, the band pull it off.

Although Who We Touch appears to end in a whimper in the shape of the somewhat dull and overly long ‘You Can Swim’, there’s a two minute pause for breath and consideration before the explosion of hidden song ‘I Sing The Body Eclectic’ is thrust upon us. This is completely bonkers. It’s an Arthur Brown-esque ham-horror psychedelic head fuck. The vocals come not from Tim Burgess but Crass’ Penny Rimbauld and are swept along by an oddly engrossing and atmospheric instrumental. It’s both weird and wonderful in equal measures.

Whilst Who We Touch may struggle to compete with the young and trendies inevitably populating many critics’ year-end lists, The Charlatans have produced quite possibly their best album in a nearly a decade. After the MOR-ridden Up At The Lake, the drug-addled and ill-fated Simpatico, not to mention the difficult to love, almost throw-away You Cross My Path, this should go a long way to affirm that Burgess and the boys have enough left in the tank that album no.12 will still be approached with anticipation.