“I am that dickhead in the kitchen, giving wine to your best girl’s gloves”, Scott Hutchinson sings sweetly, opening Frightened Rabbit’s fourth LP with the signature misery within which he so ably dwells. An early nod towards the dark humour and proud sense of futility which follows, ‘Acts of Man’ is an appropriate start to an album which demonstrates yet another exercise in immaculate morbidity by Scotland’s finest.

Alongside the happily derisive tales of unsatisfying relationships and uncouth activities, shaky drums lead jaunty pianos through a cloudy sky of anthemic guitars and choruses, as epitomised by the Arcade Fire-esque undertones of ‘Long March, Death March’, and the confident rock of ‘The Woodpile’. Tussling with all of Hutchinson’s favourite topics – death, (lack of) sex and the comfortable despair of everyday life – Pedestrian Verse follows on from the cynical observations of The Winter of Mixed Drinks and completes the retreat from the folk-influences of Sing The Greys and Midnight Organ Fight.

Frightened Rabbit’s charm has always lied in their ability to combine despondent lyrics with upbeat music, presenting the harshest verbal-attacks and self-deprecation with a delicacy and wit matched by few of their peers. “If we can’t bring an exorcist, I’ll settle for one of your stiffest drinks”, they cry in ‘Dead Now’, easing any fears that the Scottish fire might have been washed from their bellies, but there’s no doubt that much of the subtlety and poignancy that laced previous albums has been lost to the need for big-venue sounds. Sadly this change in style is necessary if they are to get the popular recognition that they deserve.

7/10

Words: Andrew Kemp