There are reasons to be really, really excited about the release of this record. Since Metronomy’s inception, their consistently great albums have always had a quintessentially English feel – a characteristic that’s all the more desirable in a time when, let’s face it, British indie music isn’t exactly at its zenith. 2011’s almost-flawless The English Riviera hinted that Metronomy were ready for bigger stages, and after the band first teased a 10-second looping sample of infectiously catchy ‘shoop-doop-doop-ah’ vocals from recent single I’m Aquarius, you’d be forgiven for assuming they were about to take the leap.

But Love Letters isn’t that record. And if you’re waiting for a Radio Ladio, a Heartbreaker or an Everything Goes My Way to punctuate your first listen, you might be disappointed. However, there’s also the feeling Joe Mount would shrug off such a criticism, that he makes whatever record he wants. After all, Metronomy’s discography has seen them gradually evolve from a digital project to an increasingly physical incarnation, something of an anti-careerist logic according to thinkpieces declaring the Death of Guitar Music by referring to the fact that AlunaGeorge and Disclosure are simultaneously dominating both pop radio and ‘alternative’ festival bills. From the acoustic strums and syrupy guitar solo of tender opener The Upsetter, the epic and love-struck Motown backing vocals of the title track and Month Of Sundays, to The Most Immaculate Haircut – which is essentially an ode to Forever Changes – the finest moments of Love Letters have an overtly 60s feel. But rather than slip into contrived retrogression, Mount has maintained his studio prowess and Metronomy’s seaside tweeness, and so the songs feel written from the perspective of a present day crate-digger, flicking through dog-eared Stax records at a market stall while inhaling the coast’s salty air. It couldn’t be further from ironic light-up costumes and indie-dance anthems, and it’s due to Joe Mount’s refusal to stay still that Metronomy have outlived his late noughties peers.

Davy Reed