If there's one thing we've learned about Lau in the six years since they formed, it's that nothing comes out of left-field with them. That's not to say that they're dull, but rather that a band who releases a live album as their second ever LP is clearly a band who plays by their own rules, and there's no point trying to predict what they'll do next. Plus, winning Best Group at the BBC Radio Two Folk awards three times gives you a certain amount of license to whatever the hell you want.

All of which should mean the folk trio's decision to team up with experimental pop producer Adem shouldn't come as too much of a surprise. The result is this seven track EP of half folk, half pinball machine electro and it's kind of...strange. Lau versus Adem is a fitting name for this collaboration – rather than two acts working together to compliment one another, this is more like a battle for supremacy.

Seven minute descent into madness, 'Imporsa', plays like a microcosm of the EP as a whole. We start off with some non-threatening accordion led folk, before being plunged, without warning, into the electronic blip-blop soundtrack to a Space Invaders game. hen the fiddle fights back and after some limited inter-play between the two genres and several false finishes we fade out on a folk note.

When it works, it works well – album opener, 'Farewell To Whisky Chess' blends accordions and acoustic guitars plucked to sound like falling rain with synthesised bird song to create something really quite magical. In the mind's eye you're transported to some mystical far off rainforest, though the idyll is somewhat spoiled by some mobile phone interference and background breathing which could be deliberate or could be a problem with the promo copy – Adem's all the sounds of the synthesiser style makes it impossible to tell. Further into the EP, 'Mr Timothy' is a haunting number which puts good use to white noise and interference and the ethereal 'Last Ghost Alive' stays just on the right side of the divide between eerie and full-on creepy.

Elsewhere, 'Happy Sevens' is a jaunty but ultimately pointless one minute road to nowhere, and title track 'Ghosts', a straightforward folk number and the sole song on the EP to feature vocals by Kris Drever sounds as though it's on the wrong record altogether.

The sound is interesting, definitely, and feels quite cinematic – in another life it could have been something like British Sea Power's Man Of Aran, soundtrack to an old black and white movie (albeit one set in space at least half the time). Overall though, there are just too many contradictions – tracks that lull you to sleep then jolt you awake, start off mournful and end up jolly. The constant, merciless, switching between acoustic and electro, sometimes several times a song, combined with false starts, some songs that don't ever seem to end and others that shudder unexpectedly to a halt make listening quite exhausting, even with a total run time of 30 minutes.

I suspect Lau are playing to a small audience here. Aficionados of traditional folk music wont like it, and johnny-come-lately folk fans, drawn to the genre by the success of Mumford & Sons et al will probably run away screaming. Fans of both Lau and Adem will like it though, and expect praise from professional musos impressed by the technical competency of both the performance and the production. All in all, a mixed bag.