I’ve been tinkering away on this blog for a few years now, and I can’t think of another artist I’ve discovered through it that makes me drop whatever I’m doing and flounder around in search of some headphones the moment I see there’s something new. It was the case earlier this year when Glasgow’s finest, Peter Cat, dropped the excellent title track of the album, and it’s the case again now that the whole thing is released into the world.

Bloody hell though. Where do you start with a record like Starchamber? That’s not a rhetorical question, by the way. It’s a genuine plea for help. Tell me where to start. My unschooled and somewhat flowery writing can handle most things, but this is going to be a challenge. It’s what a week or so living with this collection of songs will do to the human brain. I have a vague idea of many of the words that I want to use but they aren’t forming sentences yet. I’m processing. It’s good, very good, I know that much to be true… but how I can do justice to it in a few paragraphs is beyond me.

No matter which way you look at it this is a mad piece of work. Nine songs that push, pull, kick, scream, and squirm when you try to neatly categorise them. As a collection, it’s certainly a lot darker, denser, and heavier than what’s come before, although anyone that heard in-between-albums EP The Magus and standalone track Nicholas in the interim would know that something weird was germinating. And weird this certainly is. The knowing humour that courses through Graham Gillespie’s lyrics is mirrored by unwieldy structures that seemingly take great pleasure in going places you do not expect, and often at times you do not expect either. There are some absolutely thrilling moments that make you laugh at the audacity of it all… but then, why not? If you’re going to make music then why not make it as insane as possible. Perhaps what I love most about Peter Cat is that, more than anyone, it’s Gillespie that is aware of how preposterous all of it is. He’s taking a metaphorical hammer to everything that Peter Cat has put out previously and it’s a glorious thing.

Lyrically, it’s business as usual across the set. In this case business means the kind of astute wordplay that would not be out of place were it snuck onto a peak-era Pulp LP. All of the references and idiosyncrasies that stood out on the older material is still there, but now they’re embedded in dense and uncompromising arrangements with wild tonal shifts that elevate them to new levels of (for want of a better term) fucked up. Among all the chaos though, Gillespie still can’t help throwing in an instant classic-sounding pop song or two – notably album highlight The Power of Positive Thinking – that instantly feel like they’ve always been a part of your life. Although as simple and effortless as it feels, pay attention to how resolutely odd those chord changes are. It’s masterful stuff.

Elsewhere, the guitar work across the record is worth the price of admission alone. As demented as the songs can get, the guitar often tops them, with inventive lines that shape shift and run riot across the tracklist. It really is quite something; at times soft and melodic, at times mournful, at times synth-like, but never far from the kind of unexpected twist that leaves you with your mouth hanging open.

Look, there’s not really much more I can say about the record. I guess you really should listen to it and see for yourself. It’s worth it. If you’ve got this far and you’re interested, then you can find all the stuff you’ll need here.