Geordie "cinematic indie" tykes Lanterns On The Lake are following up 2011's lauded debut, Gracious Tide, Take Me Home, after a two year absence from our lives. Last year we had a remix EP, but not really anything substantial enough to satiate our craving for the tender tones of the Newcastle quintet - though that would soon change with the release of 'Another Tale From An English Town'. News of a sophomore effort crept into our peripherals, and against all odds, we've got Until The Colours Run.

Described by singer-songwriter Hazel Wilde as "a personal journey through modern life - hope, despair, love and desperate times," the album's lyrical content borders on social commentary. In a time where the band underwent line-up alterations and financial torment, everything seemed to force the band into an early retirement. But, as born survivors are want to do, they trudged onwards with recordings, and deliver to us a politically charged LP that mirrors the working-class indie of '80s Thatcherite Britain.

It goes out to the downtrodden, those with nothing and those facing upheaval. However, flying in the face of oppression, it's also a record pulsing with hope. It's not exactly a positive anthology of tracks - frankly, there's a lot of stormy minor-key riffs and maudlin words - but they outfit summon a heroism to struggle onwards. There's a determination of spirit. A true Northern grit. Despite the mounting unemployment, the fading optimism and spiralling money troubles, Lanterns On The Lake provide the musical equivalent of a strong cuppa char. It's a sort of 'life sucks, but we'll carry on' mantra that worms it's way through the album.

The band has built a loyal cohort of die-hard disciples with their captivating post-rock noises, and those wooed before will swoon again. 'Green And Gold' is a piano ballad haunted by Gaelic echoes and the fragile narratives from Wilde. Instead of relying on conventions of the well-worn post-rock genre, Lanterns On The Lake jury-rig their own inspirations and stylistic bents onto the dramatic beast; the softly-softly opening that turns into an apocalyptic deluge of brick-wall-sound is glossed over - there's the occasional crescendo and climax, but you get dollops of dream-pop, country-folk and electronica cavorting with the layers which adds a fresh dimension. 'Green And Gold' bears resemblance to other Northern souls - Nadine Shah and M O N E Y both carve spectral paeans of torment and anguish via engrossing soundscapes.

'Our Cool Decay' bristles and shivers in anticipation of winter frost. Icy-cool spikes of guitar glisten amongst funeral march snares and the Cocteau Twins-esque coo of Wilde; it's ethereal and expansive, and, with the inclusion of sleigh bells, sort of Christmassy. 'Elodie' is a gushing tirade of I Like Trains style tremelo-ing and guitar-based furore. It's a chasm of six-string pain, forced wider by the earth-splitting vocals of Wilde; it's a destructive cut. The title is curious. The name Elodie is French, and is commonly known in the language to have a hidden meaning. 'Et l'eau dit', roughly pronounced Elodie, translates as 'and the water said/spoke' - it may mean absolutely sod all to Lanterns On The Lake, but given the aquatic timbre of the song, perhaps there's a bit of a metaphor going on.

'Picture Show' creaks and aches with vintage keys and static found-sound clips; you get the burble and crackle of archaic projectors; like The Romanovs or Kate Bush, it's deathly filmic with a cabaret twist. 'The Buffalo Days' is doused in duelling harmonies, the sardonic chortle of violin and Cajun slide-guitar; it sends a distinctly American message, which appears largely the point - Wilde seems to use the slaying of the plains herds as the impetus for her own message: "We spent days watching all the buffalo/ wondering if they felt the same."

Lead single 'Another Tale From Another English Town' leans towards Weekend In The City-era Bloc Party. It's an urban hymn with oodles of spacey axe and greyscale melodies. The band carry a sullen atmosphere; Wilde sounds downright distraught. This is a rousing picket line anthem; the strings may be dark, the vocals tortured, but it's an ode that's easy to identify with and something that sums up the feelings of a throng of dissatisfied people: "They won't stop until they see us in the ground."

Lanterns On The Lake have sculpted a record that's sodden with emotional fragments - it's angry, scared, sad at a great many moments, but you'll also feel emboldened by the experience of Until The Colours Run. It drags a courage from you. It's uplifting in the strangest ways, even set against the backdrop of crumbling societies, and you'll emerge from listening to it being able to stand tall.