Atonal groans, tones and screeches alternate with ambient crowd sounds and things being clicked, strummed, plucked, scraped, bowed and tapped. These collections of genuinely interesting noise morph in and out of naïve but sort-of-traditional song shapes for an unaffected female singer to sing. Now that’s how you use classically trained musicians: you don’t waste their talents on soupy chord progressions. Sometimes the end results recall ‘80s Tom Waits without the baggage of his musical roots. Sometimes it’s like Lily Allen in the wild. But if this record reminds me of anything, it’s certain dreams I’ve had. Sadly the notion that Micachu and the Shapes are sampling my dreams without my consent, is, according to my solicitor, “probably not going to wash in court.” It’s good stuff though.