Ben Christophers does a fine line in obtuse. Take the opening lines from ‘Transatlantic Shooting Stars’: “Fallen angel in the crowd/Drags her heels over the noise/Lays down at the roadside of regard/A canyon in my broken mind/Echoes deep inside the vale/There’s dustcarts for the dead birds in the trees”.

Beautiful images, idiosyncratic phrases and quirky notions pervade this singer-songwriter’s second album, Spoonface. While it’s often hard to know what any of it means, the words are impressionistically evocative – an effect heightened as the lyrics morph into newer, even stranger territory.

Meanwhile, Christophers’ choirboy voice soars and drops, sparse, edgy guitar hums and electronic beats insist their way into the music. As the beats judder against Christophers’ pure, tender vocals, they become a melody-line all of their own.

There’s beauty in this album – be it the slow, stunning addictiveness of standout track, ‘Hooded Kiss’, the jangly, upbeat opener ‘Leaving My Sorrow Behind’ or the acoustic guitar-led closer, ‘The Opium Windows’.

Regrettably, Christophers too often coasts on the strength of his own voice – meandering around the vocal registers instead of holding to a strong melody. Pieces of ‘Songbird Scrapes the Sky’ and ‘Spoonface’ are quite lovely, but overall both songs are static and lacking in momentum. On the former, new sections intrude that have little musical connection to the earlier arrangement. Seven and a half minutes later, the track still doesn’t feel like more than the sum of its parts.

Spoonface exquisitely demonstrates Ben Christophers’ potential. Some of these tunes, at least, deserve to be heard by thousands.