The City Won’t Have Time to Fight because, presumably, the serene acoustic meandering of The Olympic Symphonium‘s third LP will have lulled said city’s population into a happy trance long before they can mount a resistance. This grandly-named Canadian folk act have been doing the rounds since 2005, but this most recent effort documents the results of an experiment in recording on their part; The City was recorded in just a week with engineer Brad Perry in the band’s native Fredericton, New Brunswick.

The Symphonium’s soundworld remains one of quiet, deliberate craftsmanship; what Andrew Dowdall memorably called “homespun beauty” in reference to the band’s previous record More in Sorrow Than in Anger. Tender male voices wavering over delicately picked acoustic guitars and patient, soft drums is the order of the day here once more, with electric instrumentation used largely to add background colour to the arrangements. Their music may sound simple and sparse, but that The Olympic Symphonium have achieved this atmosphere in such a short recording time is testament to their professionalism.

So solemn and quiet is the group’s style that it is initially a little foreboding, like the prospect of entering a dark and unfamiliar room. Without doubt, some will feel compelled to flee back to the brighter and louder world outside, but for those who perservere there are treasures to be found. The most comfortable entry point is ‘Flame’, also the shortest and most accessible song here, possessed of a sweetly realised chorus which might have been better placed even closer to the beginning of the album.

Another highlight to look out for is ‘A Lot to Learn’, which plods peacefully along in waltz time, a song written about songwriting as much as anything else, which observes that “practicing can never make perfect people / ’cause people perfected could only pretend how to feel”. It’s as strong an argument as any for the genuine emotion on display.

Wisely, The Olympic Symphonium leave their best until last. Closer ‘Crowded House’ is an immaculate exercise in cleverly wrought tension, a song of elegant rises and falls which not just invites but demands repeated, rapt listens. Benefiting a great deal from a fuller sound, its only shortcoming is that this larger style of arrangement wasn’t more commonly present on the rest of the record, which sometimes can be said to hide its light under a bushel to some extent. Nevertheless, The City Won’t Have Time to Fight is an accomplished, subtle and emotive album – once again, it is “homespun beauty”.