Toronto's Picastro are criminally underrated. Despite existing since the balmy halcyon days of '98, back when the world was a simpler place and we still feared the Internet like cavemen scattering at the sight of flames, the folkgaze/shoe-rock collective (who counted Owen Pallett in their ranks at one stage) have never achieved the same global glory that, say, Arcade Fire have. Their sounds aren't furlongs apart, and though one boasts something like a thousand members (that's a rough estimate) and the other only - currently - three, they both share a propensity for titanic, operatic, action-packed melodrama of the highest grade.

For You, Picastro's fifth studio LP, Liz Hysen (guitars, vocals), Nick Storring (cello) and Brandon Valdivia (percussion) bear fruit like the twisted macabre tales of the Brothers Grimm at their most sadistic. It's organic, rustic, and superimposed with natural tones - such as the earthy cello, hi-hat swishes, flutes (if that's what they are?) and acoustic six-stringers - but consistently dark, like being lost in the Black Forest or Russian taiga. It's desolate, isolated, and sounds as though life-ending danger is lurking around each jagged corner.

You have to sleep with one eye open here, as Picastro aren't afraid to catapult hazards into your pallid mug. It's a somewhat camp darkness though, like B-Movies with bad make-up and low budgets, or a morbid fairytale full of hags and morals, or Buffy. It's not ostentatious, but in the inherent drama, there's a pantomime streak - a GSOH - and that's just spiffing. Though it's spooky'n'kooky, it's lovable. It's like a mogwai (not the band).

Featuring Great Lake Swimmers' Tony Dekker on vocal duties, 'Mountain Relief' opens the record, frothing with weaved clarinets and the subtle menace of dawdling cello. It's got a post-rock twang, distorted static burbling in the background, halftime drums marching alongside the gradually evolving guitar riffs - it's not as texturally thick as Godspeed or 65daysofstatic, but there's a climactic ascent that only post-rock structures deliver.

Following on, the otherworldly 'Two Women' bumbles through a thicket of Oriental folk hallmarks, and a midnight frisson embedded in the experimental folk milieu. Following that, 'Endlessly' swans in. A red-dust strewn bout of delta Americana, mixed with the avante-garde scraps that characterise the record, it succeeds in being vastly different from the preceding cuts, stylistically anyway. It's a theme throughout the LP: while all the tracks embody a similar tone - the aforementioned dark pantomime one - they go about doing so in wildly disparate ways; take 'State Man''s intrinsic folk nature, 'Vampires''s synthy particles and 'Baron In The Trees''s ambient electronica flavours.

Considering the level of fame Picastro have garnered is, you might expect the band to have given up the ghost by album number five. Tribes (and surely others) did, after only their second record tanked harder than anything starring Eddie Murphy. But, obviously, Picastro aren't Tribes. They've soldiered on powered by a love for the project, by a passion and artistic desire to chuck forth music based on their whims and qualms and intuition, unscuppered by mana derived from tabloids or TV slots. It's a genuine, honest approach to music that's sadly dwindling, and one therefore treasured immensely. Their labour of love, You, shows dedication, unencumbered enthusiasm and an eye for detail that perhaps under scrutiny of millions would not exist. Put simply: it's pretty bloody good.