Loosely based around the theme of oceans, Long Distance Swimmer might just be Crowley’s masterpiece, an LP stacked high with brooding melodies and taut, threatening riffs. Mostly, the pace is soft yet ominous: on ‘Leaving The Party’ Crowley delivers a crooning vocal over juddering guitars; ‘Electric Eels’ ends in shrieking violins. The effect is suitable unnerving. Occasionally, though, Crowley likes to plug in: ‘Harmony Row’ is almost jaunty, with a lullaby chorus that recalls early Divine Comedy; ‘These Ley Waters’ climaxes in a swirl of female vocals. Cumulatively the effect is sweet, druggy and seductive. This is a superbly conceived and meticulously realised album. Don’t be surprised if Crowley scores the Choice Prize come February.