After wrapping up a cathartic trio of albums he referred to as the Manchester Trilogy, American expat goes even deeper into the weeds on , his sixth album as . Musically ambitious and lyrically frustrating, it's an album that could be considered high concept if the concept is himself. Three years after his 2020 career highlight , again casts himself as the sad clown, building a wild art-pop cathedral around his seemingly bottomless well of troubles. Previous albums have documented his deportation from (and eventual return to) England, his struggles with addiction and mental health, and the death of his father, always with a self-effacing wit and an almost vaudevillian flourish. The conflict this time is the dissolution of a nine-year relationship and the depression triggered by it. As a person, can't seem to catch a break, but therein lies the frustration. His art seems to yearn for drama and revel in upset. More conventional singer/songwriters often turn their heartbreak into stark, introspective fare, but is a madcap maestro for it, churning out bleakly funny albums that are painful, but alive and crackling with ideas. He makes theater out of trauma, and at this point, what would a cheery and contented record even sound like? Thematically, is his most hopeless yet. On the discordant suite "The Movie," he actually acts out the dialogue of his breakup over chugging pseudo-metal riffs which then segue into a yearning chamber pop finish. "Going Out on a Low Note" poses a similarly strange dichotomy as it shifts from somber piano balladry into radiant harmonies. Other titles include "She's Gone Cold," "I'm Ugly," and "The Mourning," each one wallowing, struggling, and coating grief in layers of self-mocking humor, while somehow finding moments of transcendence through smart, if somewhat chaotic arrangements. He is a gifted songwriter and musician who delivers his art as public therapy. At some point, though, it would be refreshing to hear sing about something other than his own turmoil. ~ Timothy Monger