Head here to submit your own review of this album.

Egomaniacs are as likely to live peaceably among the mass of those of sounder equilibrium as many other kinds of obsessive: nymphomaniacs, kleptomaniacs, or compulsive liars. My Grey Horse exhibit a number of obsessive traits, channelled through an entirely comfortable aesthetic.

The real egotist - rather than the dully self-obsessed, who don't exhibit the same streak of insensitivity and callous disregard for the wellbeing of others - the real egotist excels in making the lives of others miserable, in sowing discontent and garnering culty followers. They often find notable success in executive roles. Because of their capacity for cruelty, they tend to rise to the surface through a mixture of sharp elbows and backstabbing.

As Jon Ronson noted while researching The Psychopath Test, most of us exhibit one or more of the traits. Enough to make you question yourself anyway. The key is that egotists, psychopaths - the charming, cold, dead-eyed killers - never question what they're doing. They just do it. Hence, artists that feel able to reveal themselves may not just be confident enough in their own ability, it may be indicative of deeper issues.

The Butler brothers, who wrote and recorded I Still Don't Understand in the suffocating environment of a hop kiln, show elements of mania. 'My Grey Horse' eschews any unnatural production tricks, living within itself to an impressive degree. Their immediate forbears, The Unicorns, a vocal flourish variously indebted to Roddy Woomble and Rivers Cuormo, these are not balanced parents. Patient 1 exhibits narcissistic tendencies. Unable to realise self-actualisation. Patient 2 is obsessively melancholic. Defines self by received negative perceptions. Patient couple 3 work constructively together, though the results show signs of destructive bi-polarism.

This is an overly dramatic way of saying that My Grey Horse are not, on the surface, iconoclasts. Quite the reverse - nothing here moves much beyond its precursors, and stylistically is barely a step from Stornoway. Where they succeed is in snatches of successful melody, an overarching completeness of narrative, and a pleasing blindness to the pressure of fashion. The result feels like a throwback - not an obvious pastiche like Jungle, but a melange of roughly turn-of-the-century indie. 'Days Shall Follow', 'About Time' and 'John D Longlake' are all perfectly fine guitar pop extrusions, familiarly moulded knick knacks. As mass-produced as waving cats, but also as inimitable in their own way.

In one aspect, Ronson was right; the corporate mind displays facets of psychosis even as it appears to function successfully. The obsessive honesty of I Still Don't Understand can wear thin when the instrumentation occasionally scrapes along the bottom of minimalist, but their refusal to revert to swirling, synthetic landscapes is at least a bold remove from what has become the absolute norm of the last 15 years. It's rare you see a band prepared to open themselves up so fully to the bright gaze of a critical audience trained to expect sturm und drang, without recourse to electronic manipulation or studio tricks. The song writing is strong enough to stand up - at times the arrangements are not.

This is the place you'll find reviews from 405 Readers. To join in, head here.