They take their cue from a number of different genres, and if Caveman sound like a band that have been thrown together, that's because they were. The quintet's previous bands - 4 of them - all dissolved a few years ago; Jimmy Carbonetti (guitar) and Matthew Iwanusa (vocals) had previously played together, and the others (Sam Hopkins, keyboards; Jeff Berrall, bass; and Stefan Marolakachis) were drawn together by the time they spent at Carbonetti's custom guitar shop. That was 2010; fast forward two years or so and they've self-released an album, and then had that album, CoCo Beware, snapped up by reputable U.S. label Fat Possum, through whom they released this self-titled follow-up back in April. Communion, seemingly the folk-related label du jour, is putting it out over here.

What makes Caveman such an intriguing band is that their sound is tough to pin down; it fits under the umbrella of 'folk', but not much else. While fans of the likes of contemporaries Half Moon Run will enjoy the album's breezy, acoustic overtones and generally laid-back feel, Hopkins' keyboards have a strong presence, guiding the album's opening pair - the dreamy 'Strange to Suffer' and lead single 'The City', which set the bar high - and soaring over the top of even the intricate 4-part harmonies which the rest of the band frequently employ to great effect. Iwanusa has a rather Robin Pecknold-ish voice - he could pass for Pecknold's double on 'Where's the Time' - but blanket comparisons to Fleet Foxes will only get you so far. Besides, there's no Helplessness Blues-esque sophomore slump here: Caveman's sound is lush and supremely spacious, almost transportative at times, having grown to such an extent that when 'Chances' dissolves into noise, the sudden injection of chaos seems completely natural.

The quintet have been in the ascendancy for a few years, and will be around for plenty more if they keep this up. They seem content with mixing up their sound from one record to the next; CoCo Beware was looser, sometimes completely comfortable in its shapeshifting sound, but undefined and full of possibilities. Caveman itself is much clearer in its ambitions, its eponymity equally so - this is where they are now, and the closing pair of 'Pricey' and 'I See You' are particularly intriguing pointers as to where their sound may - or may not - be headed next. Conventional folk and Americana touchstones feature in a sound that is much more grandiose and layered than usual; the 5-piece may not have originally started out to push boundaries, but there is plenty on this beautiful album to suggest that they're doing just that.