The world isn’t what you’d call short of folky man-with-guitar-(and-beard)-singer-songwriters, is it? In fact the whole scene feels pretty saturated right now, and it’s easy to be put off even giving someone who falls under that category a listen, simply due to the understandable fear that you’ll have heard it all before.

Since his first album in 2006 however, through two EPs and another album since, The Tallest Man On Earth, a.k.a. Kristian Matsson has continually demonstrated the worth of overcoming this fear. Whether it’s his harsh, coarse vocals which draw you in, the constantly impressive and penetrating metallic guitar or the on-the-money metaphors which litter the bluesy songs, it isn’t hard to see why the Swede has captured the hearts of even those who wouldn’t give a second thought to Johnny Flynn or Keaton Heston or any of the array of other scruffy bearded songsters who fall roughly into the same category. Expectation then, for his follow up to 2010’s The Wild Hunt, There’s No Leaving Now, is somewhat high.

From the first notes of opener ‘To Just Grow Away’, however, although it’s in roughly the same format as what we’ve heard before, there’s unmistakably something very different about the sounds here, and it doesn’t take much time to work out what it is. The song, and in fact the whole of the album, is distinctly more produced – smoother and much less harsh – than anything we’ve heard from Matsson before. This is no a bad thing, although the change in vocals – now minus some of their previous brutality as so strongly showcased on his previous album – that now sway over the melodic guitar render the transformation somewhat more than just a simple change of style.

It’s easy to see why they’ve decided to soften it, of course. Play, for instance, ‘King Of Spain’ from The Wild Hunt to someone, and there is a distinct chance that, instead of feeling that intoxicating sense of being pulled chest first into the voice as it cracks, they’ll react in exactly the opposite way: with almost violent annoyance and distaste. And if you’re looking for mass appeal, this love-it-or-hate-it “Marmite” effect is a risky one.

The songs, then, are certainly much less likely to offend than his previous work, if also rather less likely to grab you by the balls either. In fact, by the time the album is drawing almost to a close with ‘Criminals’ – which to be fair is something of a standout – it’s almost hard to recall much about any of them individually, as they to flow seamlessly on into each other as a kind of undefined mass.

Single ’1904′ could act as something of a satisfying singalong song, and is another standout moment, with its soft and well-rounded guitar line backing up the slightly more brittle vocal line and recognisably stylish lyrics, like a classic The Tallest Man On Earth track, but just with rounded-off edges: similar in shape, but slightly less distinctive..

There’s is much here, then that is pleasant and easy on the ears. The only question mark would be whether – in a market so saturated with good guitarists with nice voices and pretty songs about mountains and nature and relationship – Mattson’s music offers anything that stands out sufficiently from the crowd. In rendering himself more easily consumable, has The Tallest Man On Earth also, perhaps, made himself a little less interesting?