I think there’s a general structure you’re supposed to stick to when writing these things. From what I gather, you start with a little bit of information that tells the reader something about the artist and maybe mention what they’ve done before, and then you gradually ease into an opinion on the thing that you’re listening to. Well, the only thing that I knew about Campbell Sibthorpe when I began writing this paragraph was that Ytown is a short but stunning collection of songs. I’ve since carried out a little bit of research and found that – although born in Australia – he was raised in a small town outside of Bristol. And it’s this town, and the adolescent yearning to leave the home he and his friends “had once bemoaned but loved”, that is beautifully captured in these seven tracks.

Entirely self-produced, there’s an assuredness to Sibthorpe’s writing that belies his years. Having initially pressed play with the intention of just listening to a track or two to get a feel for the music, I ended up listening all the way through. It’s an easy thing to do, with the seven songs having a combined running time of under 20 minutes. On first listen it struck me that the EP feels like a satisfying story told from beginning to end, and subsequent listens have only confounded the feeling; however, with each one yet more small details emerge – the sound of footsteps and birdsong here, a creaking chair or a subtle reverb there. It’s these little touches that make all the difference, and turn a beautiful set of songs into an almost tangible experience.

From the off, you find yourself pulled in by the short and sweet The Sun Appeared – which manages to pack a surprising amount into one and a half minutes. It serves as a fitting introduction to what is to come too: with beautifully picked acoustic guitar, a direct vocal, choral chanting and flawless production. Father Carpenter follows with an injection of pace and a muscular full-band arrangement. For me it’s a real highlight of the release and sounds something like a mixture of the first couple of Fleet Foxes records and Cassadega-era Bright Eyes, with a little early Wild Beasts flamboyance thrown in for good measure too. It’s an intoxicating mix. As with the rest of the EP, it’s also lyrically impressive – “Father, you carved our names onto the tree / Where history would read the dead and see / That we were once friends / That we were once friends.”

The rest of Ytown follows much the same path, with each song having the potential to be a clear highlight on a given day. Pastel Porcelain and Dandelion are beautifully crafted vignettes that draw you in ever-deeper, while Good Lord finds Sibthorpe asking “Why try to be more than I am? For this dream eventually ends with the facts” and builds to a very satisfying, cathartic resolution.

Rounding things off is the intriguingly titled Strawberry Line, Pt.2. Following its beguiling instrumental sibling and (to my ears) having shades of Grizzly Bear’s Daniel Rossen buried somewhere in its melodic phrasing, it drops us pretty much right back where we started. Much like the opening track that abruptly thrust us into the heart of Ytown, it feels as if it’s over in a flash, yet pulls off the impressive feat of packing some of the most astounding lyrics of the EP into its ninety-six seconds. I’d write them out, but that would be doing them a disservice. Ytown very much feels like a place you need to visit and experience for yourself.

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You can find Campbell Sibthorpe on Instagram, Twitter, Facebook and Bandcamp.