TRAAMS’ second LP, the krauty-indie-post-punk of Modern Dancing, is another addition to the gamut of outstanding sound being filtered through the walls of Leeds’ Suburban Home Studio, it seems (check out Blacklisters’ searing Adult and Trust Fund’s deceptively understated Seems Unfair as a starting point if you’re behind).

Modern Dancing manages to reach both out and in. While speaking broodingly on the many fears of the heart, it also offers out, via clarity of sound and songwriting, an immediacy that you could easily fool yourself is physically tangible. Every instrument is immediate – no excessive fuzz or reverb is used – and this economical approach is refreshingly visceral.

To complement this, there’s hardly a feeling on the album that’s not demonstrated physically. There are aching necks, unseeing eyes, cataracts, a dribbling mouth, rough hands, a broken chest to contend with, and this raw physicality is not only lyrical – every song begs to be moved to, much in the way the title suggests. Particular mob-rustlers are Costner, a riff-driven shout that’s made clever by tickling bass, and Succulent Thunder Anthem, a post-punk crash with a dark sense of humour (“you know there’s ice on the road,” taunts vocalist Stu Hopkin, “please don’t fall and break your neck”).

The shadowier side of the human condition is put under the microscope repeatedly (the thoughtful Silver Lining articulately translating the fuggier, vaguer side of depression is a standout), but at the end of the album it’s the dance that wins out. An achingly honest antidote to modern angst.

Sammy Jones