That's Hervé, not Hergé – not the Belgian creator of Tintin, but London producer Joshua Harvey. That's Hervé, not The Count of Monte Cristal, or Dead Soul Brothers, or Sneaker Punks, or one of the many other pseudonyms Harvey has collected over the years, like an identity thief with OCD. That's Hervé, four albums under his belt, not a début by one of these bedroom-centric chillwave upstarts, which is what a lot of the album sounds like (in a good way). The Art Of Disappearing isn't quite what you think it is, is what I'm saying.

The thing with good dance producers is that, over the years, they accrue a pretty well-stocked toolbox to work from. Some will hold onto their sturdy, reliable, if out-dated apparatus - they do the job, but that's about it. Others will always be on the lookout for something new and interesting, without being gimmicky, and Harvey is an enthusiastic and curious DIYer. So, The Art Of Disappearing does have the chillwave feel blustering through its length, with crackling washed out samples, breakbeats, and draughty synths; then tracks like 'Worry Crow' include the speaker-rumbling low end he pioneered on his Bass Junky records, 'Feels Like I'm Coming Down' includes pitched-down, stretched-out vocals enveloping the track like a thick Clams Casino sludge.

The songs with guest vocalists bring still more: 'Lose Control' featuring Bristol's Seasfire is an R&B slow jam produced by Toro Y Moi, Niki & The Dove's Malin Dahlström does her best Début-era Björk on 'Mother', and Austra comes over all Zola Jesus on the atmospheric 'Save Me'.

For all the late night, blissed-out electronica that's seeing release into the cold dark evenings recently, Hervé manages to keep a tight handle of the reigns before it can bolt into well-trodden ground. He knows what works, what doesn't, what he thinks could work – and he's usually right. Well-curated collaborators, a consistent sound with surprises still, and probably the best stage name from his lot. And not mistake.