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For an album so full of crunchy krautrock and sly funk bass, these Brits' 2006 breakout, Transparent Things, felt weirdly sexless, as smoothly immaculate as a nude boutique mannequin. Their more subdued follow-up doesn't dirty things up much, but it does give some character to the quartet's airtight groovemaking. Breathily hissing his vowels and snapping his tongue at hard consonants, David Best scours the thesaurus to describe a litany of paranoid chess players, doting husbands, and other obsessives who, like Fujiya & Miyagi, exist in impenetrably personal universes governed by meticulous passion.

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