I listened to Gang Colours' The Keychain Collection once. I didn't understand it. I didn't really like it, either. Then I listened to Gang Colours' The Keychain Collection again. The softly integrating fuzzes, whooing “oohs” and piano ballads soon began to make some sense. Then I listened to Gang Colours' The Keychain Collection a third time. That is when I fell in love with it.

It was only after the fourth of fifth listen that I began to ask myself why I had become so emotionally enthralled in The Keychain Collection. Listen after listen, again and again – I tried, but nothing. And then it hit me. Unlike some producers floating around “electronic music”-tagged tumblr dashboards, Gang Colours makes music with sentimental value. Each song carves a story. A story of untold experiences. A Dictaphone recording of worldy soundbites. A keychain of holiday contentment. That's what makes this album so personal. However, do not mistake Gang Colours - it's a give and take process, and you have to work for it too.

The curious title of 'Tissues And Fivers', a song complimenting his grandmother's dog's food digest, suggests little, but look deeper, or rather feel deeper, and inside its tearfully melancholy piano ballad and alleviating glitches and beams, there's something more to be found. Gang Colours carries himself with the same mystifying essence on each track, too. Kindly, he offers each tale on a Gold encrusted salver – 'Rollo's Ivory Tale', 'Botely In Bloom' and 'Forgive Me' to name some of many - all you need to do to understand them is reach out and take it, but remember to cast your own imagination on them.

Supporting his personal childhood snippets, Gang Colours exudes with his teenage obsession with the UK garage scene in the mid-2000's. The likes of Dizzee Rascal's 'Boy In Da Corner' and Streets' 'Original Pirate Material' playing in the car on the way home from school always springs to Will Ozanne's mind in his lists of musicians that would go on to inspire his bedroom productions. On The Keychain Collection, noticeably though, there tends to be even more contemporaneous adventure than before. UK garage, trip-hop and dubstep are never an ear away. 'I Don't Want You Calling' skips in the same poignant fashion as Jamie XX and Mount Kimbie, whilst 'Fancy Restaurant' and 'On Compton Bay's slow, ebbing piano and Ozanne's quivering vocals shyly nominate themselves for the B-side to James Blake's 'Enough Thunder'.

Somehow he manages to resist the temptation to maintain his earlier, dancier material and to slap on an easy-peasy up-tempo Garage-style Azealia Banks '212'/ Totally Enourmous Extinct Dinosaurs 'Dipper' beat that seems to be the only rhythm in use in the charts at the moment, which makes way for more mellow, chilled out listening. His alignment with Ghostpoet in the form of his early 2010 remix of 'Cash And Carry Me Home' evidently seeps within The Keychain Collection's computer designed, hand weaved entity; gradual, transparent beats dare to flirt a cozy relationship between the luscious, spontaneous swirls and echoes and piano ballads that define each track.

And that's what's so stunning. Gang Colours utilizes the power to make you – and dare I say it in these times – feel something. Truthfully though, this article is meaningless. I cannot tell you what the album is, I can only tell you what it isn't. Gang Colours' The Keychain Collection isn't an album you listen to once to conclude your verdict. It also isn't an album you rush through half an hour before going to a house party with some friends two blocks down, or when driving to work on a misty Winters morning. All I know is that it is an album that requires you to sit down comfortably, turn off your mobile phone and laptop and, unbelievably – listen. That is all The Keychain Collection requires. For you to listen.