It's been two years since Norwegian troupe Maribel released their highly acclaimed debut album Aesthetics. Since then, a whole lot has happened: band hype pressure, break-ups, cast reformations, European tours and, most recently, the appearance of 'Deflowers' on the Revolution In Sound compilation. But that was then, and this is now. Maribel are back.

Grasping us by the neck this time is Maribel's new album Reveries; in its entity a box full of teary tissues and an ex-partner on speed dial is the first thing that springs to mind. Most prominently, Reveries continues in the same path as its predecessor, with dreamy shoegaze-rock casting dark shadows on anything remotely tangible. The slow abundance of each track signifies the consistency of its rueful frown, but this time round the euphoric ambience is structured more orientally, and although co-prouced like before, instrumental qualities are wickedly evident with synth and string arrangements as well as Big Bang's Nicolai Haengsle Eilertsen on organ.

As on 'Jezebel Live', swirls of reverb and distortion intertwine with the recently-added Rebekka Marstein's slow, aguish voice, but amid the vehemence of it all is the more unhinged 'You Bring The Sadness', seeping in aural shadows of melancholy whilst always pertaining to the bands characteristics. Given an abrupt listen the tracks could cohere dreamily, but on more analytical occasions, it's questionable that maybe the reason for this is that each exuding song sounds so similar to the next vapid attempt.

Disappointinly, Maribel aren't ones to value progression. Horrors got away with it, SCUM got away with it, hell – even Esben & The Witch pulled it off. Despite finding it difficult not to imagine these psychedelic guitar rhythms soundtracking the latest edition of Alejandro Jodorowsky's collection of avant-garde films, Maribel are too reliant on their physco-tripster nonsense that they seem to have forgeten where the music is at. The result is that it often sounds like they're are afraid. Afraid to try something new. Afraid to take a risk, even. Reveries' archaic sensibility is, like it or not, clearly visible; the troupe have gobbled down greedy amounts of My Bloody Valentine, Raveonettes, Dead Weather and those American chics that go by the name of Warpaint, regurgitating murky-coloured pools of their influences into a sleeping pill of nine languid dreamy hazes. But maybe that's what's so disappointing – the fact that they have the potential to do more.

Unfortunately for Maribel though, Orlando Weeks' guiding life morals “If you've got no kind words to say, then you should say nothing more at all” don't do them generously. It could've been worthy of a sigh of relief to complement Reveries to the hype machine it was manufactured through, but regrettably there seems to have been a malfunction in the cogs; every song, alike 'Devils Sigh', is effortlessly indolent, and it's not long before you find yourself escaping, wondering whether you've stocked enough eggs in the fridge for tomorrows fry-up or if you're in need of another dreadful bank loan. Indeed, Maribel are back in our grasp, but for how long, we do not know.