"God," or so the man says, "does not answer this type of prayer," and – to be honest – I’m not surprised. Bill Callahan’s latest outing under the (Smog) banner is pretty dark stuff, both lyrically and musically. The latter is low key throughout, often sounding like the same song played time after time, the mixture of rock and classical instruments (violin, English horn, oboe, flute) meshing into one, gothic whole.

It’s Callahan’s lyrics that are the true inspiration here, a weird, wired meeting of poetry and storytelling that’s as disturbing as it is intriguing – "I took your party invitation list and wrote ‘enemies’ across the top of it/I’m a bit like the gravedigger who wields no shovel and digs no hole but leaves the bodies to rot in the places that they stand/Live life as if someone is always watching you in all you do".

Like a bizarre cross between Nick Cave and Johnny Cash, Callahan spins his tales in a slow American drawl, sounding not unlike the voice of doom.

Great stuff, but for heaven’s sake don’t listen to it on your way to work on a Monday morning – you’ll barely make it through the day, let alone the week.