Bearing in mind vocalist Margaret Fiedler's lengthy touring commitments with PJ Harvey, there are those out there who were beginning to wonder if there really would be a fourth album from the consistently fascinating LAIKA, so the curiously-titled - and impossible to pronounce if you're pissed - "Wherever I Am, I Am What Is Missing" will come as something of a relief.
But, more importantly, the fact that it's largely excellent is the real reason to run up the flags. Indeed, the metaphysically-titled "Wherever I Am..." (inspired by a 1963 Mark Strand poem and beautifully packaged) could just be the best Laika instalment yet: one with the ability to hold mystery in the palm of its' hands throughout.
Fiedler's absence initially provoked a different modus operandi for Laika instrumentalist/ musical prime mover Guy Fixsen, who worked a number of these songs up alone with little outside help, save for drummer Lou Ciccotelli, and they're a wonderfully atmospheric, often sparse collection of Autumnal-going-on-wintery tracks which prove the perfect bedrock for Fiedler's evocative, sensual voice.
It's a masterfully seamless listen, so stand-outs aren't immediately obvious, though I must say your reviewer quickly warmed to the spot-on, updated trip-hop of "Alphabet Soup", the expansive, sputtery electronica and insistency of opener "Girl Without Hands" and the exhilarating percussive welter of "Diamonds & Stones". The latter, especially, finds Fixsen in intriguing less-is-more mode, picking out the most minimal of vibes melodies while Fiedler's exotic voice and Lou's amazingly disciplined beat barrage propel them forward. It's hard to imagine he's the same drummer who once sent your reviewer home with a three-day headache during his tenure with atrocious noise-mongers God.
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Elsewhere, gorgeous songs like "Dirty Bird" finds Guy adding an intoxicating dub undercurrent and Margaret's versatile voice sounding descriptively exotic. Less wilfully spooky than Beth Gibbons and less obviously mannered than Alison Goldfrapp, she's quite a presence here, and rams home her star quality on tracks like the rubbery, wonky funk of the strange "Fish For Nails" and the personally-scarred junglist blues of "Oh."
"Wherever I Am, I Am What Is Missing" rewards with continued listening. It rarely insults your intelligence by throwing itself headlong in your direction and allows you to gradually peel away the layers and textures to discover the often bleak beauty beneath. Recommended, in a word.
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