Much like some comparably restless acts such as Eels or Beck, the impatient pinging between back-of-the-schoolbus indie sing-alongs, such as that on the Los Campesinos!-collaborated album opener “I Was A Goalkeeper”, and boniness of its succeeding “Those Two Blokes From ABBA”, immediately suggest John MOuse is something of a playful character. They set the haphazard tone for The Death of John MOuse well. “Your Funny Little Ways” is more of the fizzy guitars and slack-jawed 00’s disco that would have been blasted out of The Inbetweeners’ shitty yellow car back in the day, as much in line with a Welsh Weezer as “That’s Just The Way Our Love Is” could have been a Pulp or late (or should that be very recent?) Suede number. But then there’s those edges again, the subtle ideas left a little casually at the curb which abrade any polish from it, in the same way that The Magnetic Fields offer a foretaste of a song for the listener to complete.

At no other time is that a truer approach than in “Robbie Savage” and “Once Upon A Time In Ynysmaerdy”, both oddly crooned songs that are lyrically hyper-personal to the point of alienation, but in that so beautiful, so inviting and because of it so adorable. Both songs lay something out there, and both have a gulping melody which are complete enough to stand this record up alone, but each take precarious turns into oblivion, blurring their veneer into emotionally scatterbrained thoughts. At times this album is dazzlingly big-band camp with trumpets and howls, at others it’s Mark E Smith settling into a comfy chair in a shit pub, and it does both angles so well you don’t realize you’re actually viewing it on multi-screen. Comparing one verse to Patrick Wolf and then a chorus to Howard Devoto it thrills you slightly when you put the jigsaw together a beat or two later and realize it’s a picture of Zelda Rubinstein giving you the middle finger.

The record is summed up in it’s centrepiece “Happy I Am Not” which is an impeccable rip-off of the internet’s “Being A Dickhead’s Cool” and a Smiths-ish, very non-London gibberish, as though the Manic Street Preachers did a Comic Relief song, complete with the hook “even Arsenal’s early exit from the Champions League couldn’t make me happy”. It’s stupid but works, as does The Death of John MOuse in its entirety. It’s arty and not afraid of whopping melodies, with hooky, guitar-headlining choruses that The Enemy wouldn’t shy away from, taken broadly could feature heavily on a new wave compilation alongside Elvis Costello or The Replacements.